By Emelinee

"Bring your own beverage"

Oliver Wood has changed. He is no longer the sweet innocent Scottie that we all grew to love. Here, Oliver has faced more than one hardships. Watch him as he struggles loosing battles with his mother, his best mate and the love of his life. Will anyone be able to help him? Warning for use of drugs, mild swearing and adult content. No sexual activity.

Disclaimer: The idea of the main characters parents were a creation of Hovizi; Oliver Wood, Katie Bell and all other Harry Potter characters and plots belong to J.K. Rowling and unfortunately… not me.

A/N: I'm kind of in a mourning feeling right now. I just saw War of the Worlds. Don't get me wrong—it's great. But I think it is just so sad and I think that Oliver feels like that right now. Don't ask me why… Listen to the song "Chop Suey" by System of a Down. It'll help the story sink in a little bit. Or "Whiskey Lullaby" by Brad Paisley feat. Allison K. What else…

I didn't feel like going over the… um… italics part (wink wink) like spell checking it and stuff 'cause I was too sad to do so and I am DEFINITELY not giving anything away. Yet. So. Yay. Let's see, you might need tissues for this one… not quite sure tho. So, ya. Mmmm. Lovas! RNR! MUAH!

Divination had always been my least favorite class. But of course, it was one of my firsts. I had it with Percy, but he didn't help all that much. Sure, we had our moments when we both agreed that this old bat was loony, but that didn't stop him from acing the class and barking at me for my lack of cooperation. Suck up.

I suppose McGonagall has something against me, giving me this class first off. I had had a hard enough day yesterday. Well, at least I got to catch up on my sleeping.

This would have to be first in the list of classes that I absolutely loathed with the utmost passion. It's boring, worthless and I don't learn anything from it. I don't even know why I took it.

Pretty much, right about now, I felt like standing up on the desk, unfortunately knocking off the crystal ball in my haste and declare my love for Divination.

My ass.

I wondered vaguely if I could feign getting sick and having to go to the Infirmary or something. Well, I didn't feel like going there and I doubted the all seeing queen of weirdness herself would believe me (or shall I say queer?) My thoughts began drifting to a lovely scene where this whole turret where the Divination class boringly sat burst into flames and Percy and I running out of it, throwing our books every where and dancing to the music "Chariots of Fire" and relishing in the glory of a burnt to crisp classroom.

I shouldn't get my hopes up.

I sighed, for possibly the billionth time. I was shaken from my reverie—or dreams of me leaving this class, as I call it—as I saw Professor Treloony coming around, I quickly pretended to pay attention as Percy declared that the ball said that I would soon be chased by a rabid animal and my insides torn out and death and all that noise. I wasn't paying attention, just looking concerned at all the right places and sighing as though I were depressed—which I was, don't get me wrong—but for entirely different reasons. Treloony accepted it and went on to the next person.

I mean what was the—oh. Percy had finally finished so it was my turn but I didn't understood the whole purpose of it all. I stared into the crystal ball utterly bored out of my gored and wondered vaguely if I had zipped my pants up. Then my mind switched to Quidditch—at this point, my face looked like it was concentrating extremely hard; that made Percy gasp slightly—and I wondered if our team would be ready to battle out Slytherin. I began forming different strategies in my mind, having to constantly remind myself to look in the ball while doing so, and other jargon as such.

Everything was going fine until suddenly the room went cold and the light began to fade. I looked around, startled (and glad that I had an excuse to get away from the ball), but then I noticed that Percy was still staring intently at me and the other in the room hadn't noticed anything. My eyes were shifted and I was scared for a moment. What was—oh…

Realization dawned on my and I sadly resigned to the fact that I had fallen victim to something that I had tried to avoid—a vision. I tried to get the image out of my mind because I didn't feel like seeing Percy miraculously hook up with a girl and then become rich and famous or something stupid like that. I stopped, seeing the vision flash across my mind. I thought I had recognized but it was hard to tell because the vision was scratchy. I looked back at the ball and let my mind drift.

The vision came through clearly then and I recognized the place immediately. I gasped to see that it wasn't about Percy at all, but instead my old family home had settled into the vision. My heart seemed to stop as I watched the vision as it neared on the door. It was night and it looked like a party was happening at my house. I saw the lights and I saw inside the window that my father and I were playing a game with a kitten that I had received. Dipstick…

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Dipstick had been a present from my father. Yes, the little twit was twelve. Actually, he was about to be thirteen by this Christmas. It had been one of the happiest Christmas' I had ever experienced. I don't know why, it had just been different. I was five and my dad was on Puddlemere United. My life couldn't have gotten any better. The feared Lord Voldemort had been defeated by none other than a little boy. Apparently, my parents were friends with his parents—the Potters, I think. I was grateful that the evil man was dead but I felt sorry for the boy, knowing that had it been me, I wouldn't be able to live without my parents and I prayed that I never would have to. This was the first Christmas that my parents and I didn't have to worry about the Dark Lord attacking us. For the first time in my life, I was happier than I could remember.

We had our annual family Christmas Eve party at our home where everyone who ever had been in our family soiled themselves getting piss drunk and have a down right merry time. Train tickets arrived with the invitation. I had been able to open one present that night like I also did and this time my father had gotten me a broomstick. It was a Comet and then it was top of the line. It had been the best Christmas present ever.

I had forced my dad to teach to fly it that night and he could never stop smiling. He hadn't been drunk then. Mother had video taped it with a Muggle video camera that we received from Auntie Marie the Christmas before. My dad had ran behind me and he even soared up to the stars with me. There I was. In my favorite Ninja Turtles pajamas (hey, I liked Muggle things too), having just stuffed my face with apple pie and flying through the skies with my father.

I laughed with my father as we soared over the forest near our house. I looked at his aging face and felt the stubble of his five-o'clock shadow. He had small bags under his eyes and I noticed that he had a quite a few strands of gray hair speckled throughout his balding red mat of hair. It was growing long and reached almost below his ears. I knew that mum would have to cut it soon. I laughed as my dad swerved the broom a little bit.

"You alright there, sparky?" he called to me.

I nodded as I watched the stars flying at me full throttle. He kicked it into a higher gear and thrill of flying washed over me once more. From that point on, I knew that I wanted to fly a broomstick and play on a Quidditch team like my dad had done. I wanted to be a Keeper like my dad and fly for Puddlemere United, the best team in the world as far as I was concerned. He promised me that he would teach me how to play Quidditch later this week. I smiled. My dad went through with everything he said.

We touched down a few minutes later and my mum fussed dreadfully me about me getting a cold. I didn't really care.

I woke excitedly like every other child does on Christmas day. I was bouncing on my mum's bed before my dad tackled me and began tickling. I raced down the stairs to skid in front of the tree. It was brighter this year. There were more presents under the tree. Mum and dad were happier. Mum was expecting a daughter, my sister. She was going to be named Dana. Or Claire—they hadn't really decided. She was seven months and I loved sticking my ear up against her ear.

The attack came unexpected. We could feel the magic disappear from the air as I was unwrapping my third present. My father, with his ears like a hawk, look outside to see a hoard of Deatheaters outside of on our lawn.

"Quick, Adeline, take Oliver—they're here!" he shouted.

"Nathan, I—"

"I love you, Adeline, now, please. Save Oliver for me."

"I love you, Nathan."

I stared at my father scared. I stared into his eyes and that imagine froze in my mind. My dad was a fearless man. He was courage; he was what I wanted to be when I grew up. I couldn't get the look of my father's eyes and face out of my head as my mom and I went streaming upstairs. I heard a lout explosions and sound of magic was in the air. I knew that my father would try to defend them as best he could but I knew that that would never be good enough.

My fathers face burned in my mind. I realized that he wasn't only scared of what was happening but also confused. Voldemort was supposed to be gone, yet here was our house being attack. To him, it was unheard of. That is why I believe that he fought off the Deatheaters so that this wouldn't become true.

Mother bundled me and placed a number of spell over me that I didn't know.

"Oliver, listen to me. You need to hide. Hide in the safest spot you can think of, okay?" her voice was quivering.

"Like when Daddy and I play Hide-and-Seek?" I asked innocent.

My mum immediately began choking up and struggled to nod her head. "And you know—you know how… sometimes your-your daddy can't f-find you?" she asked, tears spilling down her beautiful porcelain face. I nodded innocently. "I want you to do that, okay? And don't come out for anyone, okay? Only Daddy. Daddy can only find you. It's a game of Hide-and-Seek and I want you to win okay, Oliver. I love you so much. Now, go; go behind he finds you!"

"I love you, mummy! I'll win for you!"

"I know, just go sweetie!"

That had been the last that I had seen of my mum before I went tearing down the hallway to my secret hiding spot. I had this spot on occasions. I had found it when my dad and I had been playing before. There was this nook in my room where we kept our armoire. At age five, I was small enough to slide behind it and slid it out a couple inches. The floorboards beneath it lifted up to reveal an extremely tiny hole and small staircase. I would in my way down there, pull the armoire a little ways back so that it didn't look suspicious. I could fit in this whole and was dead silent, especially when men came stomping through my room, thrashing it to bits and moving furniture searching for me. They tore up the whole house, I found out later, and broke the glass. As I sat in my hole and was startled by a sudden high-pitched screaming from the other room. I knew that it was my mother and I began crying. Her screams continued and continued and I thought that my head was going to explode.

The Aurors came searching our house that day after they seized almost all of the Deatheaters that had been there, except for the few, they found out later, that had tortured my mother. We had thought that she was a vegetable at first but later knew that she just didn't respond to anything but was alive and breathing. I was found and a nanny or protector took us into foster care and that was how I lived my life. All my presents had been destroyed save for my broomstick that my father had cleverly hidden in the safe along with our other precious items. I thank him later for that.

Every night, whether I know it or not, I am haunted by the screams of my mother and the fear that was set upon my fathers face. I was also gifted with the fear of claustrophobia from staying that whole for over two hours. I also received a permanent scar on my back from a nail that had been sticking in my back the whole two hours. I had gotten some sort of infection but the Healers had to fix it up without any problems.

I will always miss my mother.

The last thing that I heard before I woke up was the piercing scream of my mother as she was endlessly tortured.

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For a second time in my life, I found the white light unbearable. Except, I don't even think that there was a white light. In fact, I wasn't in the Infirmary and there was barely any light at all. Oh, thank God, I thought. I quickly looked around, my eyes adjusting to the little light in the Divination room, and I sat there horrified.

Professor Treloony was looking at me like she was looking a totally different person for the first time in her life—as though I had sprouted wings and told her I was happily gay. Percy looked like he had just failed a test, or better yet, his NEWTs and I knew that something was wrong. Don't get me wrong, the silence was enough… this just confirms it.

"What?" I asked groggily.

I felt as if I had just woken up from a well deserved nap and that I had bed head and bad breath to boot. Oh. Wait, I have confirmation on the latter.

The room was silent and I felt like an encased lion at the zoo. Or perhaps a really ugly animal.

But I wasn't thinking about that. All I could think about was the piercing scream that echoed through my head.

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A/N: Sorry, it's a little too short for my liking and it just popped up. I hope its good. I was very sad when I wrote this, but whatev. So, this is Chapter 6 and I just kinda wanted to put up some background info. I'll go back to Katie and Oliver and Quidditch. Don't worry. Thanks! Review, please! Muah!

Emelie.