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.

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

A/N: Lalalala. Writing gibberish… and not really wanting to do my English essay. Wee!

MICAH! THIS IS FOR YOUUUUUUUU! BECAUSE I ONLY GOT TO TALK TO YOU ONE :) SORRY THAT THE NEXT ONE WONT BE FOR LIKE ANOTHER MONTH! TEE HEE! ENJOY!

I was shocked to find myself lying to all that I ever knew. Hell, I knew that they'd understand that I was leaving to "visit my near-death mother", but honestly, what would they think if I told them the truth. The truth being the fact that my delinquent best friend was in jail and I had to bail him out somehow.

Not so convincing.

For a second there, I had almost convinced myself that I was actually meeting a teacher at the main gates, but my brain quickly turned on. I jogged down the small hill and made my march to Hogsmeade. Even if the wards, or whatever they have waiting for me, detect me, I only have to get it to the Hogsmeade borders and I am Apparate free, leaving a dodgy trail for the reps to follow.

The wind was blowing harder than about two hours ago and my hair was now ruffled and, hopefully, extremely sexy—just the way I like it.

The walk was long and I was getting really sick of it. Well, you can imagine, that I took this time to brainstorm and think of lovely things such as daffodils and butterflies, only to get the images of the past week out of my head. I had yet to deal with my girlfriend of a total of—what was it?—a week and I had been avoiding her extremely well, if I do say so myself.

Can you blame me?
And for some reason, Katie had decided to be the bigger man—er, woman—and repent just several minutes ago, although I am still entirely confused. For starters, why had she approached me in the first place? Wasn't I the one that royally screwed up and messed up her cheek, that delicate, golden cheek? She should be hating me—and slapping if she desired—for the rest of her life. And I wouldn't blame her. Of course, I would always despise her for not falling in love with me and drinking my love potion… I mean pumpkin juice,

I suppose that the way to fix all this was to somehow understand Katie and Roger's relationship, hoping that is fundamentally unsound and shall be easily broken; and then further to explain to Katie how desperately in love with her I am… and how Alix is in love with Roger and I hate his guts. So help me god.

That, however, wasn't going to happen anytime in the near future. Katie and I were back at square one and were acquaintances now. Jolly. (Do Scotties say jolly?)

There was also my drunkenness and Percy witnessing it… and me doing whatever I did then. I really needed to talk to him. Hopefully, I can, perhaps, trap him in the hallway on the way from Advanced Estute Freakishly Hard Trying to Blow up my Balls Potions to Try and Freaking Pass this Class Honorary Period with Freaking Short Pimp Daddy by the Name of, um, Flitwick Charms… baby. I wonder how he does it…

I hope he doesn't become Minister of Magic.

…

So. I'll deal with all them later and hopefully forget all about it so that I don't really care and, yes, on to better things.

I rounded another hill and I could see the town in sight… thank god.

The only thought that was really impounded in my head was what happened a mere three hours ago when I was cornered by three ominously looking Ministry officials requesting my unfortunate presence at a meeting with the Headmaster of my school.

Oh, how I'd love to repeat that:

"Thank you for coming, gentlemen," the Headmaster greeted kindly. We were all placed in comfy little poufs with little tables surrounding us as silence caved in around us.

The three gentlemen responded with silence and a tip of their head, acknowledging his greeting. The ringleader, a Mister Ronaldo Smethmine and his rare ethnicity, spoke up boldly, "We are very glad to have come here, Albus, and would like to commence immediately."

The old man simply nodded.

"Very well," Ronaldo continued. "My name is a Mr. Ronaldo Smethmine, Ministry Official under Mr. Cornelius Fudge, and these are my two assistants: Mr. Colin Hangerly and a Mr. Mathias Greenland. We are here on the business of a Mr. Dreyus Reynolds who is currently residing in the London penitentiary for three years under the charge of cold-blooded murder."

Oh. Was that my cue?

I seemed to have stopped and didn't pay attention all that much. Did they say Wood?

Wait—

"DREYUS?" my voice came out large and unexpected, however they welcomed it calmly and as though it was anticipated.

"Yes, Mr. Wood," Smethmine continued, "is it not true that Mr. Reynolds is currently at the penitentiary for three years under the charge of cold-blooded murder?"

I simply nodded numbly. But something struck me…

"It was self-defense," I said certainly. The man stared me, perhaps shocked that I had spoken again—although it was most definitely quieter.

"No, Mr. Wood, it was pure murder. The man had no right to die and was in no way harming your friend or another person within the distance," replied Smethmine.

I stared at him for a long while before he decided to ignore me and continue on with his little memorized rant that annoyed so many people in so many words.

I couldn't get it out of my mind that Dreyus had killed a man without a cause. Of course, I knew that Dreyus was having some issues, but I would have thought the man his mother was with that night would have attacked him first or something. I never truly got to find out. They never let me visit him.

"We have reason to believe that this Mr. Reynolds is under the influence of magic and either possesses under his own will or was force magic into him. However, his body is being manipulated by some outside source, notably a wizard."

I went silent for a moment before I spoke up, "Do you have any idea who it might be—the wizard?"

The man swallowed slightly. "Of course. He goes by the name of Lord Voldemort."

The thought of the man who I used to sit on street corners and smoke fag after fag being controlled by a monster tortured me. I couldn't bear it.

The pub was crowded, to say the least, and I was slightly surprised. Was it a weekend?

…

I couldn't remember.

Okay, that's sad. This simple forgetfulness made me remember (how ironic) that my life was so confused. Lately, I had been trying to organize the different problems that has happened but I knew that it was impossible.

I went up to the bar where Rosmerta was patiently serving and took a stool, trying to peer as inconspicuous. Luckily, the bar was full of hags and older men so the younger women weren't ogling… that much. I asked a Firewhiskey—I was of age—and she gladly served me one within a matter of seconds.

I sighed. I had decided to take my time because these things had to be planned very well. Of course, no professor would be able to catch me now and even if they did, I could easily Apparate away, even to a different point of Hogsmeade and make it back before them.

Oh, yes.

I had them beat.

Rock on.

My Firewhiskey was gone and I ended up just sitting there. I had suddenly lost my urge to move and I felt like I was wasting a night of beautiful sleep.

No.

That urge came back as quick as a stomach ache and I was moving. I paid my small check and exited the bar quietly. I made my way down the street a little bit, not really paying attention to where I was going, and then turned on a alley.

I had obviously picked the wrong alley because there was already two recipients there, moaning rather obnoxiously and seemingly taking up the whole alley. I ignored them and concentrated on my destination and, with a pop, was gone.

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The stars hit me with an intensity that I didn't know existed. I noticed that where I was deserted and no lights were flickering. I was in a uninhabited small cobblestone road and the buildings were old and rickety. My mind switching on, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the best friend that I didn't know I had: a fag.

I quickly made my way down the road and onto a few others, somehow knowing my way to my destination. But it took too long.

I took another long drag and reached the large iron gates that resided behind the middle-of-nowhere that I just emerged from. I noticed to the left that there was an intercom that was available and I quickly made use of it.

The gates clanged open and I was soon escorted by no less than two men in uniform until I was given a thorough search and pat down that also held that airy, awkward silence. The man, who had a dainty little mustache that was too small for his over-bearing large face, sniffed around and boasted out his gruff voice, ordering me about.

A few checks later, a few more blah blah… I was through. The same officer, who I realized held the name Timothy, was escorting me down a long, narrow, and depressing hallway, leading me past numerous containment centers or cages. The iron bars barred me again the men inside them and left me out in the world, safe.

The walk was long and I got tired fairly easily.

A clank and a loud grating noise woke me from my trance and I stood to face the man whom I had once trusted with my own life. The bars no longer separated us and I stared at the lump of flesh that was resting on the ground. He was sleeping and I hated to have to wake up.

"REYNOLDS!"

The sound was ear-splitting and after the initial shock, I was astonished to notice that the man before me hadn't moved an inch.

The silence in the dead darkness was torture. The stone walls seemed to be closing in on us and the feeling was unbearable. I just stared at the man who remained still and I wondered at how long he sustained this torture.

The bar clanged once more and a loud sound was made. I couldn't make out what it was because I was just staring at the mass that is a human sitting before me.

Move, dammit!

Suddenly, the man coughed roughly and it lasted for approximately a minute. Finally, once I thought that I couldn't stand the horrendous sound any longer, it stopped. The officer beside me took no more time in doing his job. Within seconds, the officer had stridden across the cell, his bat at the ready, and, with a flash, winding the bat backwards and striking the man.

I didn't wince as the man cowered and the officer hit him once more. I looked away quickly, realizing that my body was shaking terribly. The officer continued to beat the prisoner until I could sense the faint sight of blood oozing from the jumble of parts. I thought that the officer was going to beat him to death as another blow came down. Then he stopped—just like that. Before he left, the officer cast a look at the poor convict and spat in his face leaving to the edge of the cell and finally leaving myself with the beaten man.

For a moment, I didn't move.

I stood there, seemingly frozen to the spot as I stared at what I knew used to be the man that I could nothing except confide in.

And there he was.

Dying.

And I felt as if it was my entire fault.

Suddenly, the hoarse voice broke through the shattered room, "That you, Oliver."

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A/N: And I'm not even sad. So, this is what happens. I know I left you hanging from last chapter, but that's who I am, right? Don't worry about it. Oliver is going through a tough time right now, so he'll get through it.

:D

Muchas gracias reviewers!

And HOVIZI and my little Italian. ;D Um.

Sorry, but I dont have time to do the reviewers right now... like telling you how much i love you, so...

Micahmouse: Did you catch it? LoL!
The BrassPotato: THanks!
Drew: ... I have nothing more to say.
armr4sleep16
Apathetically Interested
Pokethepenguin01
Valterra!

I'll write something for you later... right now... i have to take a showder. AH! HURRY MY MOM IS GOING TO KILL ME! AHAHAHHAHA. Later!

I love Tom... :D
Emelie