Oliver Wood and the Muggleborn's Wand
Chapter 11
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Not For Profit work. Harry Potter and related materials © J.K. Rowling.

Oliver had never showered so fast in his life. He knew he was cutting his schedule for the day close, with practice ending very nearly when he had to be at his driving test, but it was all working out so far. He was more excited than anything. Changing into his Muggle clothes, pulling on his trainers and shrugging on his jacket all left him with a sense of needing to do more, like he had more energy to burn even after all of the fancy broomwork he'd been improving upon for many hours of the morning.

Being a Chaser was certainly more direct physical effort than being a Keeper, but he was up to that challenge. Still, he was grinning like a doofus, and it didn't go unnoticed by his teammates as they went about their business. Dollie, in particular, hadn't even made it to the shower yet. "Oi, Wood! What's the rush, anyway?"

Tugging at his laces one more time for good measure, Oliver said, "Just feels weird being around so many guys flaunting their nudity." Glancing up, Oliver was pleased with himself when he noticed his fellow Chaser straightening the towel around his waist. "Seriously? Promise not to laugh?"

"Okay," Dollie took on the patronizing tone now, "I promise I won't laugh..."

"Taking my Muggle driving test today," Oliver stood up, beginning the process of stowing his Quidditch gear into his bag. "Been studying all week."

"Ohhh, one of those." His tone of voice lightening considerably, Dollie seemed fascinated. "My brother did that, keeps trying to get me to do it..."

Puddlemere's Seeker, a thin, wiry girl who very much reminded Oliver of Harry Potter in terms of Quidditch, caught the conversation. She jumped right in. "Hey, Wood, don't be afraid to Confund the examiner! Not worth going through the whole thing over if you just miss something stupid, eh?"

"I'll...keep that in mind," said Oliver. He wondered if she spoke from personal experience.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Oliver threw his rucksack over his shoulder and headed out. Precisely one step out of the locker room, he apparated home.

It was mildly humid at Woodland Road. Oliver could see a light haze outside through the window, so he pulled the cuffs of his jacket down to his knuckles and buttoned it. He imagined it was going to start snowing soon. Setting his rucksack down, he left the flat, and looked both ways down the hall before he bewitched the door. "Colloportus."

Marching up one flight of stairs to the flat shared by Jessica and Conner, he knocked on the door...

...and was more than a little surprised when it budged; it wasn't closed. Confused, Oliver opened it slowly and took a step inside. "Guys? Jess, Conner?"

He knew something was wrong instantly. The flat had two rooms compared to his one, and the living room was larger. Jessica and Conner also had more furniture than Oliver did, and when he saw their glass coffee table completely shattered, it drove the point home. "Guys?!"

Pulling his wand, Oliver stalked through the living room and into the hall. Whatever was going on, he wasn't worried about any magic use he might find necessary to be in violation of the law. When he passed the kitchen, things got worse.

Conner lay sprawled on the floor, his head propped up against a cupboard. A trail of blood started halfway up to the counter and smeared down, ending close to where Conner's head had ended up. He had a violent gash on the side of his head, and it was still bleeding. Oliver practically dived onto the floor next to him. "What in...Episkey!"

The basic spell was the only healing magic he knew. It was apparently sufficient; the wound closed, and a good amount of the bruising around it faded away. Oliver knew he should've brought him to St. Mungo's...a Muggle hospital wouldn't do, he needed answers. Making a judgment call, Oliver decided to go for broke. "Reenervate!"

Conner startled awake, and Oliver figured he must've been more than a little confused, probably feeling like whatever had knocked him happened less than five seconds ago. He tried to lunge up at Oliver, but considering his position on the floor and the state of his head, Oliver restrained him easily. "Conner, Conner! It's me!"

"Ollie?" He blinked, raising a hand to the side of his head. The look on his face slowly turned from surprise to pained . "Ohhh...for a headache like this I should've at least gotten hammered..."

"Conner," Oliver nudged him, "What happened?"

The question seemed to bring Conner out of his stupor; Oliver could see it in his eyes, as the memories came flooding back. Again, he tried to get up, albeit in a more cooperative manner. Oliver helped him stay steady as he rose. "Fuck! That fucking nutter came at me with a fucking baseball bat!"

Oliver didn't need to ask which nutter he was talking about, especially considering his next question. "Where's Jess?"

"Oh, shit." Terrified, Conner stumbled out of the kitchen, as if he hoped that Oliver's question didn't mean that she was nowhere to be found. He moved "Shit, I don't know! She was behind me when..."

It really wasn't hard to figure it out. The feeling Oliver had in his stomach as he put the pieces together made him want to deny it, made him wish as hard as he could that it wasn't true. It wasn't possible, though. There was a struggle, Jessica wasn't in the flat, and her roommate had been left unconscious. Maybe even left for dead. "He took her."

It was automatic; they both broke into a dead run, the situation sobering Conner up enough for him to at least stay on his feet. Oliver hoped he had a better idea of where they were going to go as they started down the stairs. "You know where he could've gone?"

"I know where he lives," Conner was gasping for breath already, his stamina severely worn down by the blow he'd taken to the head, but it didn't stop him. "Only place I can think of..."

Trusting him on this, Oliver followed him to his car. He was betting that the way Conner and Jessica talked about David not being nearly as notable of a person as he liked to think meant he was also dimwitted. That way, it was actually fairly likely that they were on the right track.

The hazy fog outside made the drive seem ominous. Oliver started to wonder what could happen if they were wrong, what he might get away with if they didn't find him in the next few minutes. "Cops, we should call the cops."

One hand off the wheel to reach for his pocket, Conner suddenly became angry. "Fuck, fuck, I forgot he smashed my fucking phone when I went for it..."

That feeling in Oliver's stomach was getting more unpleasant. He never brought his phone with him to practice, there was no point. "Mine's...mine's at home..."

Cursing again, Conner didn't let it deter him. "If he's not there we'll bang on someone's door...not like people don't do the smart thing and not answer their doors when they don't know who it is..."

The double-meaning in that statement wasn't lost on Oliver, but he contemplated it in silence. As Conner's driving started to verge on 'wreckless,' he pulled his seatbelt on, suddenly realizing that he was going to have to reschedule his driving test.

It was certainly an odd, random thought to have, but he ignored it. There was a more important thought entering his mind; the fact that he needed to consider what was going to happen if they actually found Jessica and her ex, especially if he was still armed with a large, blunt object. There was a certain amount of inevitability in what Oliver would be doing, especially considering the distinct lack of Muggle police they now faced. "Conner, I need to ask you something."

"Yeah?" He didn't spare Oliver a glance, taking a turn at an intersection through a red light. It was a miracle they weren't being pulled over.

"This is going to sound weird, but can you keep a secret?"

This time, Conner glanced over, but only briefly. "What?"

"Yes or no," Oliver said. "Don't ask me to explain. If we find them and something, say, weird happens, can you keep it secret?"

This might not have been an effective way of dealing with the issue, because how did someone swear they could keep magic a secret when they didn't know it existed? Still, Oliver had to try. He didn't want to resign himself to the idea that he was going to have to report his friends to the Ministry so a qualified wizard could work some memory charms. As such, he was slightly uplifted when Conner said, "Sure, why not? Fucker, that's his car!"

David's car was parked badly in the little driveway to his house. It wasn't a bad place or a bad neighborhood, really, though it was a sparsely populated stretch. Oliver figured he must've lived with his parents, though it was doubtful they were home. Conner came to an unceremonious, screeching stop at the curb, and they practically dived out.

The second they were out, sound reached their ears; someone screaming, and someone else swearing. The screaming sounded a lot like it was coming from Jessica, and both sounded like they were coming from in back. Oliver followed Conner around, catching up as they rounded the corner into the backyard.

Even through the fog, they could just see the door slamming shut. Conner managed to bound up the stairs and onto the back porch, tugging at the doorknob uselessly. "He had to think to lock it!"

Stepping back, he looked quite prepared to charge and break it down, even at the risk of exacerbating his head injury. Oliver beat him to this, though. Shoving Conner to one side, he yanked his wand from his pocket and pointed it straight for the door. "Alohamora!"

"What?"

He was sure Conner would say that word again, several times, in the near future. As far as right now was concerned, Oliver didn't stop. As soon as the click sounded from the door, Oliver took one step towards it and kicked it open. He hit it so hard that it slammed into the inside wall louder than it had slammed shut to begin with.

Charging into the kitchen, Oliver was just in time to see David shove Jessica rather violently into a chair near the table, baseball bat in one hand. He was so busy screaming obscenities at her, he hadn't even noticed Oliver had charged in.

When that bat came up, Oliver had quite enough. It was bad enough he was screaming about how she deserved this for not answering when he called her. That he was actually about to go through with the act sent him over the edge. "Expelliarmus!"

Finally, David noticed something was wrong. His weapon flying clear out of his hand and crashing to the floor on the other side of the room was enough to get him to spin around and see what was going on.

"Incarcerous!" Watching the rope spring from his wand and tie the man up, part of it nicely sealing off his mouth, Oliver felt a vindictive kind of satisfaction. That Jessica was fine no longer mattered. That she was staring at him and his wand as if the world had just gone mad didn't matter either. Watching David topple over and struggle, Oliver couldn't help but feel like this wasn't nearly enough to teach him a lesson. "You think you're bad, eh? I'll show you what bad is! Crucio!" It was strange, that a man screaming and writing in agony while his mouth was gagged could be such an utterly satisfying sight. "Crucio!"

Oliver was almost fascinated, the way a man bound in ropes struggled to get away from the Cruciatus Curse. He tried to scream but couldn't, tried to roll away but could only twitch and thrash. It was like watching the end of some monster's long tentacle be severed as it continued to wiggle around.

Proud of discovering this interesting combination of spells, Oliver smiled at his friends, wondering at their thoughts on the matter. When he saw the looks on their faces, his wand fell out of his hand.

All at once, reality came rushing in. It felt like he'd warped in from another dimension; had he really just done that? Had he really just used the Cruciatus Curse on a Muggle like that?

Backing up, Oliver made for one of the table's chairs. He missed, and landed on the floor, unable to look Conner or Jessica in the eye. Conner was standing in front of her, an arm holding her back as if she was trying to fight through. The looks on their faces told Oliver all he needed to know; they didn't need to know about magic to realize he'd just tortured a man.

David had blacked out just before Oliver dropped his wand. Oliver swallowed hard; he stared at it sitting on the floor not five feet away. Like it was for all wizards, his wand was a treasure to him, a priceless combination of Holly wood and a unicorn hair from Ollivander's. Right now, he couldn't bear to reach for it.

Seconds ticked by. Jessica and Conner eventually moved; she approached Oliver, unsure of what to say or do. Picking up the wand, Conner waved it about a few times, apparently trying to make more rope come out. "But it's just a stick..."

Oliver knew he should've taken it back, but he couldn't muster the will to stand up. Slowly, Jessica knelt down beside him. "Oliver?"

"I," he started to say. Staring at his hands, watching himself shake, Oliver felt ashamed of himself. "I...I can't believe I did that...that's not me...I don't...I don't do that..."

"Bloody hell," Conner was still jabbing at the air with his wand. "Then what do you do? Unlock doors and fire off silly string and," he looked closely at the wand's tip, careful to keep it pointed away from himself. "There's a taser in here, right?"

Not less than five minutes ago, Oliver had been more than prepared for this scene, for having to explain magic. Now, it was the thing he'd felt the least prepared for in his entire life. How was he supposed to explain magic and wizards when he'd just shown them what Dark Wizards did to someone they didn't like? "It's...raining?"

The water hitting him from the nearby open window completely distracted Oliver. The sheer randomness of it struck him hard; sure, there'd been fog, but it had been bright out, without clouds in the sky above. Now, the sun was gone, and the drizzle seemed to gravitate towards the window.

Feeling somehow wrong, Oliver finally stood up. He poked his head out the window, seeing the clouds up above blotting out the sun. They weren't very high, and that feeling was overpowering him. He was shaking not from what he'd just done anymore, but from simple, primal fear. When he look straight up, Oliver realized, all too late, that there was a very good reason for it.

The Dementor skimmed down the side of the house, plowing through Oliver to dive in the window. It's black, tattered cloak whooshed by Oliver's eyes as he fell, gone from his sight by the time his back hit the floor.

He wished, he prayed that it was gone entirely, but even as he began the process of standing up, he knew it wasn't true. The kitchen was darker, either from the sunlight being all blocked or because there was a Dementor in the room. Or, Oliver figured, a combination of both.

The looks on his friends' faces added to Oliver's despair; being Muggles, they couldn't see it, they could only feel it, and they'd certainly seen him knocked flat on his arse. Jessica was backing towards a wall, Conner was rooted to his spot, Oliver's wand held out. He thought he could somehow defend himself with it. "What's...what's going on?"

Oliver said nothing. He didn't move, didn't breath, he just watched the Dementor hover there, it's eyeless head moving about, looking at Jessica, then himself, before it turned to 'glance' at Conner.

He remembered seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts more clearly than anything else in his life, remembered Professor Lupin telling them that Dementors couldn't see, they could only sense. What was it trying to sense, then?

Nervously, Conner waved Oliver's wand out. He poked the Dementor as it was turning to Jessica again. Instantly, the dark creature sprang on him, grabbing him by the neck and holding on all the way to the ground. Conner, being assaulted by the air as far as he was concerned, yelped in shock.

"No," Oliver muttered. He tried to move, tried to will himself into action, but the Dementor's effect was bogging him down so much...what was the point? They already hated him, they'd probably turn him in for the Unforgivable Curse if anyone from the Ministry came knocking. And now, he couldn't save them. Could I be anymore useless...

"Oliver!" That was Jessica. He turned to her, and her face was still a mixture of fright and shock, but not because of him, anymore. She was begging, pleading for an explanation, or, god willing, for him to fix it. "What's going on?"

Looking back, the sight that greeted Oliver snapped him clear out of it. The Dementor still had Conner on the ground, wringing his neck. It was lowering itself down...it was going to kiss him. "Conner...throw me the wand!"

So very thankful that Conner could understand that one thing through everything he must've felt right then, so very thankful that he wouldn't have to get closer, Oliver dived for his wand when Conner made a feeble attempt at throwing it from his place on the ground and it didn't quite reach. He pointed it and thought of Katie. "Expecto Patronum!"

Silver light formed at the tip...and then fizzled out. It seemed only natural to think of Katie's death, given the thing in the room. Or the look in her eyes when he kept trying to convince her that running from the Death Eaters was better than fighting.

That wasn't going to work. It wasn't going to work at all. Oliver bolted to his feet and pointed his wand again, banishing those thoughts from his mind. He thought of Quidditch and the game he would be playing, the actual, professional-level game, in less than a week. He thought of Fred Weasley, all the fun things he'd pulled at school with his brother. He thought of his Muggle friends and how they'd let him into their lives so kindly.

He thought of the night he proposed to Katie, and he didn't even remember the Death Eaters breaking down the door. "Expecto Patronum!"

And this time, it worked. The silver, iridescent sheep that he'd once seen dive out of Katie's wand now dove out of his own, charging straight for the Dementor and crashing into it so hard that it bounced off the wall.

Righting itself, the Dementor regarded his Patronus with caution, but it had nowhere to go. Flicking his wand, Oliver directed his charm to attack again; this time, the sheep charged the Dementor from the side, forcing it through the air and clear out the window.

Almost immediately, light returned to David's kitchen. The Dementor had clearly decided it had enough of that, and had gone.

Of course, this left Oliver in an interesting situation; in a room with an unconscious Muggle and two others watching his Patronus trot back and forth. Still, he couldn't help but be relieved, all things considered. "Wow...I guess all those N.E.W.T.s were worth it after all..."