Bit of a shorty, mainly because I'm now posting as I write, I can't seem to plan ahead on this fic. So DH kind of shed some new light on Oliver for me, he now has hidden depths! I'll be honest I probably wouldn't have written him into the final battle, but thank Merlin JKR did or else Olly boy would probably be stuck whining about Kate the entire time. Enjoy.
Chapter twelve.
Oliver gazed around the wide hall, the walls were softly lit with early morning light and only a few students graced the House tables. It was a little disorientating to sit at the staff table and look down on the place where he had spent a considerable amount of his time during Hogwarts. While he had never especially reminisced about his past meal-times after leaving the school, he now found his memory flooded with so many occasions that had seemed trivial at the time. Supper's the night before big games, poor excuses for breakfasts on the mornings of said games, and the celebratory feasts every Halloween. Every year they had seemed less special, less eagerly anticipated, yet now he felt a rush to know that the Autumnal feast would soon be upon him.
He was an early riser by nature, always had been. He was always one of the very few in the Great Hall for breakfast just after dawn, even now. And it seemed very little changed. There was still a small knot of Ravenclaws', with books perched against jugs of milk and pumpkin juice getting in some preparatory reading before classes. As well as a few students from each house here and there, frantically trying to catch up on their summer reading in the short hours before classes started again. There was the odd Slytherin plotting away in a corner, and a Gryffindor paying close, but covert attention to his scheming peer.
Few things about Hogwarts had really changed. The grounds bore the marks of a battle field of course, there was a quietness about the open spaces that hinted of loss and death. It was however not quite as eerie as you would expect it to be. A peacefulness had settled over the castle, which he had not known even in his own time here.
He knew, of course, that parts of the castle had been rebuilt. He knew the exact places where walls had fallen, but to look at them with fresh eyes he supposed it would be hard to tell the difference between old and new. The young ones wouldn't know of course, he doubted all but a few of the older ones were in the same position. The large hourglasses that held precious gems representing the points of each house had each been replaced, the glass was as clear and as imposing as he had always remembered them. No jewels littered the floor now, though he sometimes felt his eyes played tricks on him. At certain times of the day he would swear that he could see the light reflecting off a stray emerald from the corner of his eye.
It was hard for him to stand in the entrance to Hogwarts for very long. He still dreamt of carrying the fallen through foyer and sometimes imagined he could still feel the weight of them in his arms. There had never been any doubt in his mind about joining the fight that day, it was his duty as a free wizard. He did not even consider sitting back and leaving the task to others. He had fought for his own future as much as anyone else had. And yet, though he was probably wrong, the students of Hogwarts seemed oblivious to the sacrifices their teachers and school had made for them.
The history of the battle was on the curriculum naturally. Though it was still taught by good old Professor Binns. This was one thing about Hogwarts that Oliver knew would never change. Binns was still teaching the History of Magic, while his lessons now contained some more modern aspects of their culture, wizarding children, generation after generation, would continue to be bored to tears by their professor's wheezing lectures on subjects that had the potential, albeit with a little dose of life added to them, to inspire them to do some good in the world. He did not know if any of the teachers were mentioned by name, Oliver was doubtful that this would make any difference if they were. Binns had not once gotten his name right in the seven years he had been a student, playing a part in a major war might not be enough for the professor to change a habit of a lifetime.
He had, so far, had little opportunity to meet his colleagues. His own history with the school made him avoid certain areas of the castle, the staff room in particular. This room was still the place where he expected to be reprimanded by one of his teachers, not an area to relax in between lessons. He stuck mainly to his office and living quarters, they were liveable enough, though they lacked the warmth and camaraderie of the Gryffindor common room. It was slightly jarring to be back in the castle and sleeping in a room of his own. While he hadn't expected to be sharing a room with four other boys, he found the silence of his own bedroom slightly annoying. Nights at Hogwarts were supposed to be filled with the sounds of gentle snores, yet there was only him.
While the silence was a little grating, Oliver would readily admit that he loved the solitude. He inhabited a world of his own. No wife. That was definitely one of the many plus points of coming back to Hogwarts. He could still here Kate's whining voice, protesting his plans to move into the castle when he could easily apparate or floo home each evening. She still seemed to be under the impression that they both lived a happily married life. The truth was the only time Oliver was happy in his marriage was when he was left alone to imagine that the joining had never actually happened. She had tried several tactics to prevent him from leaving, even going so far as to promise him she could get him back on the Puddlemere team. He had jokingly told her that if she could he would never again complain about being married to her, and would come straight home the minute she got confirmation. He knew that she could no more get him his job back than he could love her. It was impossible.
But he had to give her credit for the idea. Of all the things that she could offer him, that was the one that would sorely tempt him, no matter what the situation.
But Hogwarts, that was his home now. It's walls were a haven, and though he sometimes saw the ghosts of what he had witnessed so long ago. He would not change one single brick of the place. It comforted him, to remember that his life had not been a complete waste. That he had been of use then, and was being of use now. True the two were poles apart, but it felt good to be back.
There was one other reason, one other aspect of life at Hogwarts that Kate, with all her ways, could not tempt him to give up. His son. He had known him straight away, before Professor Brown had called his name at the sorting. One glance at the boy's face among so many, and yet he had known him. Oliver couldn't help but wonder at it. He had not seen his son in nearly eleven years and yet he knew him without a moment's hesitation.
Jake was tall for his age, probably something he got from his mother. Oliver had always been of average height and quite burly. But his son was tall, at least in a few years he would be, and lean. He had the potential build of a good Chaser. His hair was a sandy brown, like Oliver's own, and while he had not seen the boys eyes close up he would hazard a guess that he had inherited Oliver's murky brown ones, which he had gotten from his father. His features were all Ayla though, soft and delicate still with the edging of baby fat.
And strangest of all, Oliver longed to hear his voice. His son's voice. He couldn't help but wonder what it would sound like. The opportunity had not yet arisen for him to speak with the boy. His first practice with the first years would not come until Friday, of all the years for September first to fall on a Saturday it had to be the year Oliver, and his son, started Hogwarts. There were moments when he would think about stopping Jake in a corridor, maybe asking him to deliver a note to another teacher, or else ask him what lesson he was on his way to. Anything, just to hear his voice. Just so he wouldn't have to wait until Friday. It couldn't come soon enough, his first lesson with his son. His first opportunity to teach his son how to fly. Friday couldn't come soon enough.
Ok my darling lovelies, (who I neglect on a regular basis) I know I said I'd be more regular at posting, and then completely failed. And that I owe you a lot more posts, and better ones at that. BUT...I'm going to New Zealand on Saturday (01/09/07) and I won't be back for three weeks (23/09/07) so I won't be posting for a while. So in the interest of keeping you all occupied I'm going to give you a little plot point to mull over, and maybe come up with a few suggestions for (honestly I'm flummoxed). I'M GOING TO KILL KATE. Kind of like homework over the summer, how should I kill her? I have the why's down. It's just the how's and the who's that are causing me problems. Best idea gets in the fic with full credit going to the suggester. I'll try and keep a blog of my travels, if anyone's interested the link's on my profile page. But no promises, cos I break them
Also someone said I should be more descriptive (BattleStations I think), look up there points upwards there was no dialogue. NONE! Hows we liking that?!