Oliver Wood and the Muggleborn's Wand
Chapter 12
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Not For Profit work. Harry Potter and related materials © J.K. Rowling.

"Well?"

Feeling rather pleased with himself as he walked out, Oliver fished the piece of paper that would function as his temporary license out of his pocket. He was smiling. "I didn't even have to Confund the examiner."

He knew Jessica had no idea what a Confundus Charm was, but he also knew that she was smart enough to work with context clues, so he didn't insult her intelligence. He was, however, a little surprised when she hugged him. "Oliver, that's great."

"Thanks for coming with me," he said. "After yesterday...it was a lot of stress."

It was a pathetic excuse for his behavior, and he knew it. He imagined that, had she been a witch, her attitude towards him would've irrevocably changed the second she'd heard him say 'Crucio.'

"Yeah, a little," she said, somewhat sarcastic, somewhat serious. "And you did promise to tell me more about magic, remember."

"Right," Oliver nodded. Conner hadn't gotten beyond 'magic is real' before he'd heard enough. There'd been something almost comical in the way he'd stormed off that made Oliver worry less than he felt like he should be worrying, but...still. Walking to Jessica's car, he found a set of keys being thrown at him.

"Go for it," she said. Hopping into the passenger's side, she reached to the back and, with a lot of stretching, yanked the red "L" off.

Putting his seatbelt on, Oliver couldn't help but feel accomplished. Even then, he couldn't go the entire drive without asking. "Does Conner hate me?"

"Oh, give that time," she answered. "He was raised in a really religious household, proud of being Protestant...sometimes he feels righteously indignant, sometimes he's just silly. He used to think you were Pagan."

"Pagan," Oliver almost missed stopping at a red light. "Magic isn't really a..."

"Well," she sighed, "You do use 'Merlin' as a curse, that's a little weird...he'd always asked me if I heard it once you weren't around. And then, you know. The magic wand and the chanting and the ghost sheep."

"Hey, it's not my fault spells need incantations," he answered. "Non-verbal magic is hard, you know...and my Patronus is not a ghost!" The word 'ghost' was forever associated with the ghosts of Hogwarts for him. He was sure there were nastier ghosts in the world, but after that time Percy had let him use the Prefect's bath and Moaning Myrtle had tried to molest him, well...the word just meant something different than it did for most people. "Sorry. Guess that one needs a little explaining."

"Is it...why is it a sheep, though," she asked, as if she'd been dying to ask it all day. "Why does a sheep...banish whatever was going on in that room?"

Of course, the simple answer to this question would've been a brief explanation of what a Patronus Charm did and what a Dementor was. It wasn't that simple for Oliver. "It's...complicated."

Getting out of the car, Oliver led her to his door. Trying to open it and failing miserably, he could feel his face turn red as he fumbled for his wand. "Eh heh...I really outta stop doing this, just being paranoid, really...Alohamora."

She seemed to take it in stride...a simple unlocking charm wasn't much compared to what she'd already seen. Taking off his jacket, Oliver tried to figure out where to start. He imagined that she would've liked him to start talking anytime now.

He decided to try being simple. "C'mon..."

He led her to his bedroom, and didn't say anything. Letting her walk in, Oliver simply watched as she realized what would be so interesting about it. "What's...wait a minute..."

He didn't have that much stuff, but it was enough. His old Puddlemere United poster - he was certainly not in it - hanging next to a set of Gryffindor banners on the far wall near the window were more than enough to give it away. Two of the banners were enchanted to ripple about as if out in the wind, while the one in the middle switched off between saying 'Gryffindor!" and "With Courage and Honor!"

The somewhat outdated Puddlemere roster nudging about for camera space and waving every now and then really sent the point home, though. Cautiously, she walked around the bed. "Weren't you...weren't you afraid anyone would see this?"

"Nah," Oliver sat down. He reached for the nightstand, picking up a framed photograph. "Everything's bewitched so Muggles won't see it unless you already know about magic." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "Er...a Muggle is just someone non-magical. C'mere." Eager to change the subject, he motioned for her to sit down next to him. He hadn't meant to launch into personal memories instead of outright talking about magic, but it was all he could think of doing. "This was my team at school...this was...four years ago. I was team captain," he pointed at himself, and then to the surprise Seeker he'd had for his last three years at Hogwarts. "That's Harry Potter, right there, bit of a hero, killed the Dark Lord a few months back. That's...a whole different story, there was a war, see."

"War?" She repeated. It hadn't been something she'd been expecting, to say the least, and like any Muggle suddenly hearing 'there was a war,' her next question was automatic. "What war?"

Oliver really hadn't intended to go there. He'd been thinking he could talk about Hogwarts, which was, the Chamber of Secrets and the fiasco with Sirius Black notwithstanding, a harmless topic. "Um...it was bad. Real bad. You remember a few months back...even last year when a lot of bad things happened? I remember he knocked down a bridge, in the beginning he was threatening to kill Muggles left and right if the...well, it's a long story."

"That was," the look on Jessica's face told him she knew exactly what he was trying to think of. "That was a...wizard?"

"Yeah," Oliver said. Bad enough he'd thrown an Unforgivable Curse around in front of her, now he was giving her a History of Magic lesson by focusing on Voldemort. He went back to his team photo. "That's Fred Weasley...I think that's Fred, could never tell them apart. He died in battle." There was only one place to go from there. "That's...that's Kate. She got hit with a Killing Curse when we went to fight, right in front of me. Just...dropped." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jessica looking at the larger, stationary picture of Katie on the bureau. He knew she'd put it together if he didn't say anything anyway. He had to fight back tears. "We were going to get married, me and Kate...I, uh...I'm sorry, this can't be at all what you expected, I just didn't know where to start, and...big tough wizard I am, huh?"

He didn't really notice, but Jessica was as much at a loss for words as he was. "Oliver...I had no idea...you were in the war? Are you, like...a soldier?"

"Hah," he actually laughed. "Hardly. I doubt I'd be much of an Auror. I didn't want anything to do with it at first, I thought Kate and I could just hide out until it was over...it wasn't like a war over countries is...He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named got into the government and used it to lord over everything without ever showing his face. It was like the thing that was supposed to protect everyone turned into this monster that would eat you alive."

After an awkward pause, she didn't even try to find a subtle way of changing the topic. Oliver's hand went slack and she took the photo in her own lest it hit the ground. She said, "So...where do you learn all this stuff, anyway?"

He tried his best to put the war out of his mind. It helped that he knew she would find the answer a little silly, and he smiled. "We go to school, where else? I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, class of ninety-four." At her incredulous look, he continued, "Sorted into Gryffindor House, a talking hat does that on your first day...Quidditch captain for four years, earned nine O.W.L.s my fifth year, that's a test for different subjects. Graduated with seven N.E.W.T.s, those are even harder tests. And seven, if I do say so myself, isn't too shabby, signed onto Puddlemere United as reserve Keeper, first game on the main team is this Saturday."

Letting the silly acronyms slide, Jessica said, "So...you're a good wizard?"

"Well," Oliver said, "I figured I'd need to keep my options open. Professional athletes in any sport retire pretty early, right?"

"That's not what I meant," she said. She was too embarrassed to ask, thinking either it should've been obvious or it would've been insulting.

The tone in her voice wasn't lost on Oliver, though. "Oh...oh. Well, lately, I wonder...sometimes I have nightmares...Muggle soldiers sometimes have a hard time after they're in a fight, don't they? Maybe that's my problem...I don't...I don't go around torturing people, I'm not usually like that, I..."

"Oliver," Cutting him off, she said, "I'm sorry, I didn't think you were, I just...don't really understand how this whole thing works, is all. Where do you even get a magic wand?"

Wondering how to explain wizarding society in a simple manner, Oliver stumbled over words. "Well...it's like...wizards and Muggles aren't that different, you know? We get up in the morning, go to work, try to have fun..."

"But with magic," Jessica said. At his nod, she added, "And some wizards are bad news, like some...Muggles are chavs?"

"Right," Oliver said. "I have to see a friend of mine tomorrow, he works at the Ministry, he's going to take my statement about yesterday personally. You can come if you want, see a little of it...he won't mind as long as you're not planning to try telling the world."

Much like Oliver's rambling about his time in school, she found this amusing in an absurd kind of way. "Oliver, who in the world would believe me!"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "We rely on that a little. We buy our wands, by the way. Most of Wizarding Britain, Ireland and Scotland get wands from Ollivander, he's got a shop here in London, but it's on an all-wizard street. He's really good, he makes sure everyone gets a wand that works well for them before we start school," turning his wand over in his hand, Oliver used it as a distraction to avoid looking at Katie's picture again. "Kate's wand and mine are twins...we say that 'cause the cores are from the same place. Unicorn hairs from the same Unicorn. It's not totally unheard of, right? But we used to joke that it was a sign about how we were made for each other..."

He could see when Jessica said the word 'Unicorn' to herself was pretty stuck on the whole Unicorn thing; he hadn't thought of how talking about Unicorns like Muggles talked about dogs and cats would surprise her. Before he could say more on the subject, a knock came on the door. Jessica followed as he walked out of the bedroom, wand out. Pointing it at the door, Oliver realized that he'd never put the locking charm back on. Flustered, he opened the door. "Conner!"

Behind him, Jessica looked at her roommate over Oliver's shoulder. For his part, Conner did the same, before he tugged at his coat. It wasn't terribly warm outside, and he looked like he was fighting the urge to walk inside where there would be more heat in favor of standing there and glowering. "So, you, uh," he looked at Oliver, "You really aren't on the Curling team, are you?"

"What?" Oliver blinked. From the way he shuffled his feet, Oliver wondered if this was his way of delivering a roundabout apology for leaving them to consider the whole magic thing in a rather crude manner. "Er...no, no I'm not."

Jessica, of course, knew Conner better than Oliver did. From her reaction, it seemed like this was part of the natural cycle he went through when he felt slightly wronged. She rolled her eyes, and she made sure he could see it. "Don't be dense, Conner. He plays Quidditch."

Passing him the picture, she didn't think anything of the moving people in it. Conner, however, did not handle this particular surprise well. Apparently, it was more frightful than the Dementor had been, because, a second after he took it with an air of apathy, he screamed and dropped it.

The picture wasn't visibly damaged, but the glass of the frame shattered spectacularly. Just as horrified, mostly because it had been partially her fault, Jessica couldn't help but stare at it, dumbstruck. Conner, for his part, didn't seem angry anymore. He was just freaking out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just, holy shit, I wasn't expecting that!"

Oliver's seventh year Quidditch team, now that they had recovered from jumping into each others' arms for protection, were all doing their best to give Conner some rude hand gestures. Even Harry, but he was distracted, hopping around the photo trying to catch the snitch he'd dropped in the fall.

Nudging his way behind Conner, Oliver shut the door and aimed his wand at the wreckage. "S'okay, wouldn't be much of a wizard if this was a problem. Reparo." Conner jumped when the glass flew back together. Just to get him back for the Pagan thing, Oliver didn't bend down to pick it up, he just flourished his wand again. "Accio Picture."

After it jumped from the floor to his waiting, empty hand, Oliver regarded his friends with as much casualness as he could manage. "What? So I'm good with charms...most wizards my age can't produce a Patronus at all, you know."

"The sheep," Jessica mouthed to Conner.

"Oh," Conner kept looking at Oliver without blinking. "What was going on there, anyway? What grabbed me? What's it got to do with sheep?"

For all the baggage associated with talking about the war, Oliver found it much easier to talk about this particular subject. He felt like he was channeling Professor Lupin. "It's called a 'Dementor.' Muggles...non-magical folk can't see them. They look like...a man without legs, they float around dressed like Death, and they feed on misery. If you're in the room with one, it's like they suck the happiness right out of you." Oliver noticed Jessica shuddering at the memory. "If they kiss you, they'll eat your soul and leave the body empty."

After considering this for a moment, Conner, who seemed to figure out that he'd been much closer to the 'kiss' part than he dared imagine, blurted out, "And a sheep gets rid of them?"

"Well, the Patronus," Oliver was absolutely not going to get specific about the sheep; it was bad enough that it had something to do with Katie, and he really, really wanted to avoid sheep jokes about being Scottish. "It's really the exact opposite...it's so hard to conjure, because you have to think of something happy, happiest memory you've got, really, and focus on that, and you have to do it while you feel that thing nearby..."

"Oh," Conner said, again. Eager to talk about something that wasn't as serious or blatantly frightening, he changed the topic. "Right, then. What the hell's 'Quidditch,' anyway?"

He half looked at Jessica as he said it, but she gave him a shrug and a look that questioned why he would think she knew this. He didn't feel a need to remind her that she'd been the one to say it.

"Quidditch is," Oliver scrubbed a hand through his hair, again trying to think of a simple explanation that wouldn't take an hour. "It's kind of like football. Only...it's also kind of like that sport...what's the one...basketball. And in the air on brooms." When they both looked at him like he'd grown three extra heads, he jabbed a thumb towards his Firebolt, propped up in the corner. "What, you don't think I use that to sweep, do you? You know how much that thing costs?" Again, they were silent. Maybe Quidditch was a little too much magic for one day. Then again, there was certainly a day coming up where Oliver was going to have all the Quidditch he ever dreamed of having. "Hey, my first game this season is Saturday...I can still get tickets, you guys want to come?"

He had Conner instantly. Jessica was even more confused than when he'd started talking about broomsticks, if only because she hadn't expected the invitation. Conner, however, didn't need to say anything. The idea of going to an actual sporting event, not even going into the fact that it involved wizards and flying broomsticks, was something he lived for. "Hell yes!"

Looking at Jessica, Oliver imagined that this must've been what she was like when Conner had convinced her to watch football with him. She seemed intrigued - he imagined the magic part helped, in this case - and nowhere near as willing to admit it as Conner was. It didn't matter, though. "Well, it's not like I have class on the weekend..."

"Great!" Oliver smiled. All, it seemed, was finally well. He could send an owl to ask for their tickets tomorrow when he met Percy. "Just one thing...what is Curling, anyway? I actually haven't got a clue..."