Oliver Wood and the Muggleborn's Wand
Chapter 6
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After his rather disastrous conversation with Percy, Oliver really needed some time to chill out. Practice with Puddlemere United started soon, and he couldn't afford to be a head-case. He had to get off the edge.

As such, when he finally apparated back, he didn't land in his flat, he landed at the end of Woodland Road. He knew he shouldn't have done it out in public like that, but he wanted to make the walk. He figured it would do him good.

It might not have been the best idea. There was a light mist settled over the area now, and it was a little muggy. Still, Oliver walked, tugging his jacket off and throwing it over his shoulder. The thick air was the first indication that it was still the middle of Summer he could remember since he'd moved here.

The walk did little to assuage Oliver's troubled mind. By the time he reached his door in the building, his back was sore from the slumped posture he'd walked with, and his trainers were scuffed from his feet dragging across the ground. He put his key in the lock, forgetting that it wouldn't work.

Upon not being able to make the door budge, he glanced up and down the hallway, pulling his wand. "Alohamora."

Much to his disappointment, the humidity followed him inside. Not understanding how, Oliver kicked off his trainers - an effort that was more trouble than bending down to untie them probably would've been - and mulled over this fact. Usually, the indoors was always a little more calm than the outdoors.

Plodding into his room, pulling his shirt off so violently he almost tore it, Oliver found the source of the issue; the window was open. He could've sworn he'd closed it, what with his fondness for magically sealing the door.

Giving up on his bedroom for a place of comfort, Oliver shut the window and went back to the kitchen table. He didn't have the strength for an atmospheric charm right at the moment, and he didn't want to make things worse by fudging it. The last thing he needed to do was make an indoor rain storm.

Letting his head thunk down onto the cool wood of the table, Oliver kept track of his own breathing. About the twentieth time he counted himself exhailing, he had a wild idea and reached into his pocket.

Flipping his phone open, he found the speed-dial menu and clicked 'call' over his parents' number. Briefly, he wondered if his parents had figured out how to answer the thing, since no one had ever really called them before. This seemed to have been a valid worry, as it rang a good seven times before it was finally picked up.

What Oliver heard was not the customary "hello" of standard Muggle phone usage, but rather, his mother's voice in the distance, saying, "No, flip it around, Elric..."

Followed by his father's voice, sounding very distant, "Like this? Oh, you take the thing then, Oakley..."

"No," his mother's voice came again. "You've got it backwards andupside down...here we go! Hello? Oliver?"

"Mum?" Oliver said. "Yeah, it's me...how are you'n Dad doing?"

"Oh, we're fine, Ollie," she said, and Oliver was sure she knew he was cringing at hearing that nickname. "How are you doing? How's the Muggle town? You're not having trouble adjusting, are you? Your father is worried you might afoul of those Muggle chav gangs. Or any Death Eaters that weren't caught, you are keeping up with the news, right? We'll get you a subscription to the Daily Prophet. Do you have enough money? Conversion rates weren't too bad?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Oliver couldn't help but smile, despite himself. As exasperated as his parents made him feel, it was normal. "Really. It's a nice neighborhood, and I have enough to hold me over until I start getting paid."

Most of the conversation was like this; Oliver's father never did take the phone, afraid he was going to break it, apparently. Instead, he shouted from the background, things like, "Ask him if he needs any food," to which his mother would promptly repeat by starting with "Your father wants to know if..."

Finally, Oliver remembered the biggest, most important thing he should probably tell. "Mum, listen...no, really, I have enough money, listen...I'm not on the Puddlemere reserve anymore." This proved to be a bad way to start the story, because his mother freaked out, told his father, who also freaked out, and even more clearly assumed something bad had happened. "Mum, calm down! I got moved to the team! I'll be playing when the season starts!"

Once his mother relayed this information to his father, Oliver heard nothing but dead silence for ten seconds. Followed immediately by cheering and congratulating that was even louder than the previous misguided anger.

At this point, Oliver decided it was best to hang up. "Yes, Mum...yes, I'll tell you when my first game is, of course," he wondered if he would 'conveniently' forget, "I have to go now, yes, I'll call again...I love you too."

Clicking the 'end call' button, Oliver set his phone down on the table, a smile on his face. His parents were overbearing, annoying, loud, and angry, and he was sure plenty of people would sum that up by saying "they're Scottish."

He didn't care. They were his parents, after all. It was normal for them. All was right with the world.

A knock on the door brought Oliver out of his reverie, but he didn't mind. He was feeling better, even if he was making a mental note to apologize to Percy later. Opening the door revealed Conner, who looked quite happy as well. He was wearing pants that he only could've gotten from his workplace. "Hey, Ollie! Jess and I are going to grab a bite and watch the game, care to join us?"

Remembering what Jessica had told him earlier about how Conner had dragged her into football, Oliver started wondering just what Muggle sports were all about, anyway. Besides, it couldn't hurt to spend time with friends. At least, it couldn't be any worse than spending time with Percy had been. He didn't even feel an urge to deck the poor guy for channeling his mother and calling him 'Ollie.' "Sure. Just let me get dressed..."