Oliver Wood and the Muggleborn's Wand
Chapter 13
Alhazred - ssjDOTalhazredATgmailDOTcom - alhazredDOTlivejournalDOTcom
Not For Profit work. Harry Potter and related materials © J.K. Rowling.

"Conner's at work...you don't need him to give a statement or anything, right?"

Jessica seemed genuinely concerned, but Oliver wasn't taking the whole thing nearly as seriously as he probably should have. It was, after all, 'just' Percy, and Jessica wasn't going to say anything about his flagrant use of Cruciatus. He hoped.

After all, Percy might've forgiven the Killing Curse in war, but he might not give even his friends the benefit of looking the other way on repeat offenses now that the war was done with. Especially considering how Oliver had acted the last time they'd spoken. "Ah, no. Truth be told I don't really need you either, it'll just help. And, you'll get to see stuff."

The fact that she didn't say anything about that made him wonder if she was thinking that she really wanted to see a slice of wizarding life, and then felt ashamed over thinking that ahead of Oliver's legal 'trouble.' She nicely avoided that subject, though. "Right, so...where are we going, anyway? And how are we getting there? Can you, like...teleport?"

"I can," Oliver said, his head slightly tilted. He hadn't actually thought of this yet. "But I'm not terribly good at it...can't manage it well, I always end up making noise, so I wouldn't want to try bringing someone along. We can fly," he pointed to his Firebolt, still leaning in the corner near the door. "It's a twenty minute broom flight, at most."

She hadn't really gotten over the whole idea of flying brooms yet, though. The idea of flying on a broom in tandem made her blanch. "Isn't there...anything else?"

"Well, maybe," Oliver said. "C'mon, let's find out." Throwing his jacket on, Oliver took the time to get his feet snugly into his Quidditch boots. They functioned well enough for the winter and the snow on the ground, and he was planning on getting a new pair soon, anyway, so wear and tear didn't concern him much. Jessica had boots that were much easier for her to slip on; they were violently purple, a fact that Oliver found ironic, given the method of transportation he was going to try. "Oh, wait, they won't take Muggle money..."

He plodded back to his bedroom, realizing he'd have to do a cleaning charm to get rid of the dirt he was tracking around, but that could wait until later. Digging in his nightstand for the little sack he kept a supply if wizarding cash in, he returned in short order. He grabbed his old Gryffindor scarf on the way out as an afterthought, throwing it over his shoulder.

Once he and Jessica were in the hall, he closed the door and bothered with his wand instead of the key. "I don't know why, this just makes me feel better...Colloportus."

She laughed when the door squelched.

Throwing his scarf around his neck as one last precaution against the cold, Oliver led Jessica out of their building's front doors and over to the curb. There were a few Muggles about on Woodland Road, but no one was really looking in his direction. Even if they were, they wouldn't see much. "Muggles aren't supposed to be able to see this, but I imagine it's like the enchantment I put on my pictures...should be fine since you're with me."

"Why doesn't this sound good?" Jessica buried her hands in her pockets.

"Oh, don't worry," Oliver leaned over the curb slightly, wand in hand. "This is going to be so uncomfortable, but it's not the worst thing in the world." He raised his wand into the air, as if hailing a taxi.

No taxi came, but the sudden appearance of an honest-to-god triple-decker bus at the end of the road had Jessica resisting an urge to hide behind him. "But that's...that's a dead end."

"Oh good," Oliver breathed a sigh of relief, "You can see it...here's where it gets frightening...you don't get motion sickness, do you?"

"No, not really," she said. "Why?"

"You'll see," Oliver sighed. He'd ridden on the Knight Bus once in his life, and he knew what he was in for. "You probably wouldn't believe how this is going to work if I told you."

Before she could prod him, the Knight Bus came to a screeching halt, stopping with the door perfectly in front of them. Stan Shunpike stood haphazardly there, looking at them. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," he eyed Jessica with subdued confusion, "And their 'ccasional Muggle companions, my name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for the afternoon."

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn't a problem, then. His distraction didn't go unnoticed by Stan, who was quick to hustle them inside. Oliver reached into his pocket for the sickles he would need. "We're going to the Ministry of Magic."

"Thirteen sickles each, that'll be," Stan handed them their tickets, taking Oliver's money as he turned towards the front. "Ernie! Ministry of Magic!" Turning back, Stan smiled, "Lucky for the pair of ya, that's the only destination right at the moment. Go on then, have a seat..."

Jessica surveyed the bus, eying the upper levels through the gap in the center, but Oliver was quick to usher her to the nearest set of chairs. He never understood why they couldn't conjure something that was bolted down. "Trust me, you want to sit as fast as possible...here, let's do this." Approaching a window with several mismatched chairs, Oliver turned one right-side-up and set it with its back facing another. He arranged another pair like this, and motioned for Jessica to sit. "Hang on, it's gonna get bumpy."

Taking his advice and hugging the chair in front of her, Jessica watched as Oliver sat and did the same. She wondered if the fact that he was so much larger than she was would help him hold on or just help him tip over faster from whatever bumps might happen. "It's really that bad?"

"I guess it's the tradeoff for fast travel," Oliver said. When Stan called back that the Ministry of Magic was the next stop, he tightened his grip. "And...here we go..."

BANG.

The massive jolt through the bus sent both of them sliding back quite a bit, but the chairs they were holding onto came with them, and weighed them down considerably. Instantly, Jessica realized what Oliver had meant. "You're right, I wouldn't have believed this!"

Fascinated and frightened, she watched the landscape zoom by the window. By the time she first looked, Woodland Road was long gone.

"I'm just glad it's a short trip," Oliver said. The bus lurched again, this time because the brakes had been hit and it was taking a hairpin turn while running a red light further on the way into London. "Oh, Merlin's beard, I should've thought about whether or not I get motion sickness!"

BANG.

Tearing her eyes away from the sight of the busy London street zooming by like nothing was rocketing through the middle of it, Jessica answered, "Where are going, anyway!"

"Ministry of Magic," Oliver said. "The bus outta leave us at the visitor's entrance any second-"

Before he could finish, the Knight Bus came to a complete and very abrupt stop. Someone on the middle level must've fallen, from the thumping going on. Oliver did more than fall; he wiped out in true Quidditch fashion, his weight working against him and sending him clear over the chair he was holding on to. Maintaining an iron grip on it, Oliver ended up flipping over, taking the chair down on top of himself when he landed on his back.

"Oliver!" Jessica's chairs had slid forward, but she stood as soon as the floor stopped lurching and pulled the errant chair off of him. "Are you alright?"

"I've had worse," Oliver blinked. He was just realizing that he was, indeed, on the floor. Standing up, he brushed himself off. "And we still have the trip home to look forward to..."

"Ministry of Magic, visitor's entrance!" Stan announced.

Oliver and Jessica couldn't have gotten off the bus fast enough. They weren't a step each away from it when it bounced away, down the street and out of sight in an instant. Staring at the spot in the road where it had vanished, Jessica said, "That was..."

"I know," Oliver said, "Not the best ride in the world..."

"I just," she shook her head, "I wasn't expecting magic to be so..."

"Mundane?" Oliver scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, not everything's flashy, even with wizards...c'mon, let's get inside before we freeze to death, though." He could see his breath so well that it was almost like walking through fog whenever he exhaled. Sliding into the normal-looking phone booth, Oliver motioned for her to follow. "C'mon, I know it's cramped, but it's the way in."

Once she crammed in next to him and closed the door, she looked around the inside, as if wondering when it was going to take off. Oliver dialed the numbers, and soon enough, a calm, professional, female voice spoke out of thin air. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Oliver Wood and Jessica," he began, suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that not once he'd met her had he ever bothered to ask her last name.

With Oliver looking at her desperately, Jessica stopped glancing around for the source of the voice and filled in, "Carver."

"Muggle, here to file a report on an Improper Use of Magic incident," Oliver finished, deliberately not giving away the fact that he'd been directly involved in the aforementioned incident. He wasn't keen on confirming Jessica's status as a Muggle, but he knew his options were doing it now or explaining to the security guards why she didn't have a wand to check in.

The Welcome Witch didn't seem suspicious, and she continued. "Thank you. Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes." He took the badges when the phone's coin return spit them out; aside from their names, they were each labeled with the same thing; 'IUM Report.' On Jessica's badge, the word "Muggle" displayed itself in the middle. Oliver stuck his badge onto his jacket, and put Jessica's on for her, so he wouldn't have to explain that it would magically stick without a pin. All the while, the operator kept talking. "Wizarding visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and check your wand at the security desk, located at the far end of the Atrium. Muggle visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and sign a non-disclosure agreement at the security desk. Failure to comply with this agreement will result in memory modification."

Mortified, she shot Oliver a look. He tried to wave his hand once, not being very successful in the cramped space. "Don't worry, they'll only send Obliviators after you if you do anything to give it away..."

"Oh," she said, half-heartedly. "Well, that makes it less scary..."

Oliver would've jumped when the floor of the phone booth started to move down, if he had room. He'd been to the Ministry before, mostly to register as a professional Quidditch player and to fill out any of the paper work involved, but it always startled him without fail.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

Jessica, being closer to the door, stepped out first. The Atrium awed her as much as any wizard coming through for the first time. "That...that's a big fountain."

"Hmm," Oliver nodded, standing next to her when she paused. He'd heard stories about the 'Magic is Might' monument, and he was glad he didn't have to see it. Random parts of the fountain looked brand new, the legs of every statue where shinier than the rest of them, to say nothing of the basin. A team of architectural wizards was working on it, trying to transfigure the color of the new metal to match the aged, antique look of the parts that had survived. The water was running, at least. "We're heading past it, too..."

As they passed the fountain, he handed Jessica a sickle and threw in one of his own, prompting her to do the same. At midday, the Atrium wasn't crowded with wizards just coming into work, although the fireplaces lining either wall had enough traffic for Jessica to watch them intently even when she had to look behind, just to make sure she was really seeing it.

The moment was cut short when they reached the security desk not far away from the golden archway that led farther in.

The wizard posted here was the same one Oliver had met on his previous visits to the place, and that didn't thrill him. He didn't know the guy's name, only that he was very, very sick of his job. Oliver had to clear his throat to get his attention. "I'm here to register my wand?"

With a sigh, the guard put down his copy of the Daily Prophet, picked up the Probity Probe sitting on the desk, and stood. Quickly running it over Oliver's front and back, the guard glanced at Jessica's badge and did the same to her before sitting back down. "Let's have it, then."

Handing over his wand, Oliver watched him go into a drawer in the desk and pull out a piece of paper. He turned it around and pushed it towards the edge, his other hand putting Oliver's wand on the scale while he talked. "Miss, do you understand that anything you see, do, hear or say while at Ministry headquarters is to be kept strictly confidential from Muggles unaware of magic?"

Seeing the sense in that, Jessica nodded. "Yes."

"Do you understand," the guard added, his voice becoming more and more of a monotone, "That failure to do so will result in consequences up to and including your sponsoring wizard suffering standard penalties as provided by the International Statute for Magical Secrecy and a qualified Ministry Obliviator modifying your memory to remove your knowledge of magic-related events?"

Jessica hadn't known she could get Oliver into trouble by association. Sparing him a glance at that, she said, again, "Yes."

Holding out a quill, the guard finished with, "Sign at the X, please." As she did so, the scale finished with Oliver's wand and spit out the report. The guard read off it, "Holly, fourteen inches even, unicorn hair for a core, been in use for about ten years...yes?"

"That's right," Oliver nodded. He gratefully took his wand back while the guard filed the receipt, and wasted no time leading Jessica to the lifts. "Sorry about that...that guy's always a real prat every time I'm here."

To his surprise, she didn't comment on the guard's lack of people skills. "You...keep track of how long your wands are?"

"Aye, it's one of the things that sets different wands apart for different people," Oliver nodded. He couldn't quite figure out why she was giggling, so he kept on with his explanation. "Mine's a little longer than the average..."

At this, she nearly burst out laughing, one hand over her mouth. "You have a bigger staff than most wizards?"

"But they're wands," he said, contemplating what she was saying. "Not staves..."

Before Oliver could contemplate this any further, a voice he hadn't heard since the battle called out his name from further back in the hall. Turning, Oliver found himself staring at a familiar lightning-shaped scar as Harry Potter weaved his way around a pair of witches talking under the archway, Floo power still dusted over his shoulders. Oliver imagined that Harry must've caught a glimpse of him just as he'd emerged from the fireplace. "Harry!"

The hug was automatic for both of them, though Oliver's idea of a hug might've broken Harry's ribs. He was all grown up since Oliver had last played Quidditch with him, but he'd seen enough of Harry when Voldemort died to know he was just as lanky as ever. Still, this allowed him to wiggle away from Oliver with little difficulty. "It's good to see you, Oliver. I read about you in the Prophet this morning, Puddlemere Chaser and all. Wish I could I could make it to your game this Saturday."

"In the," Oliver stuttered, more than a little stunned. He hadn't picked up the Daily Prophet regularly when he wasn't in a Muggle neighborhood. Surely, with all the deaths in the war and the work involved in reorganizing the league in the United Kingdom, wouldn't there be more important things than one replacement player? "In the Prophet? I'm in the paper?"

"Well." Shifting his weight, Harry tried to avoid eye contact. "It's a Rita Skeeter article, so it's three-quarters rubbish, but I figured the part about you being the new Chaser was the one-quarter that's truth."

"Oh," Oliver said. He didn't know what to think of that. How would Rita Skeeter trash him in the newspaper? For a moment, Oliver grew sick to his stomach. Did she somehow know? Had she found out he'd used the Killing Curse during the battle? Worse, could she possibly know that he'd used Cruciatus on a Muggle? Calm down, of course she doesn't know...and if she did, no one obviously cares much what she says, you just walked into the Ministry of Magic unnoticed, didn't you? "Well, any publicity is good publicity, I guess." Remembering that Jessica was standing next to him, Oliver stopped worrying. "I'm being rude...Jessica...Harry Potter."

"Hi," Harry said. His eyes briefly glanced over her visitor's badge as he reached out his hand.

"I've seen you," she said.

It reminded Oliver of the first day he'd met her. Harry, on the other hand, appeared dismal about it. "Yeah, well..."

"You're in Oliver's picture of his old school team," she said, shaking his hand and smiling.

"Why yes," Harry was suddenly elated, if not outright ecstatic. He gave her hand one more good shake before she could let go. "Yes, I suppose I am! And it's a pleasure to meet you!"

Oliver had to move to avoid a wizard in a particular rush to get by. "Let's find us a lift, shall we?"

At this time of the day, the lifts weren't over crowded. The three of them easily found one to themselves once passing the golden gates. After it started moving, Oliver made notice of Harry lacking a visitor's badge. "So, what are you here for, Harry?"

"Auror training," Harry said. He paused, as if he had to remember that it needed further explanation. Nudging his glasses further up onto his nose, he said, "I was anxious to start, but I just started seventh year at Hogwarts, too...McGonagall pulled some strings and got me enrolled for school credit, so I'm being graded like I'm in class, as well. Between this and Quidditch I haven't got any free time anymore, but I don't mind."

Shaking his head, Oliver wondered if Harry knew how absurd some of the things he was saying were. "Harry...after what you did, I'm shocked anyone thinks you still need to go to school. You should be a full Auror."

"Everyone keeps telling me that," Harry grinned ever so slightly, just enough to show that he didn't hold a grudge over the idea. "But you know, out of everyone, the only one who really knows what I need is me."

Still unable to comprehend how the one who had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord needed to go back to school, Oliver nevertheless conceded the point. "I guess...for what it's worth, I hope you have an uneventful year for once."

The first time the lift opened, it was time for Oliver and Jessica to get out. Harry bid them one more farewell, and when the doors closed, Jessica said, "He's a nice guy...seems more excited about the day than anyone else going to work I've ever met."

"Nah," chuckled Oliver. "He was just excited you only recognized him from my pictures. C'mon, this way...we're meeting Percy at Oblivator Headquarters."

"Aren't those the guys who do the memory thing?" She asked.

"Yeah, but it's just because he needs to borrow an office. This isn't his usual job," Oliver assured her. "Don't worry...Memory Charms are the last resort...they're supposed to trust my judgment on it. I had to prove I could do a Memory Charm when I got my license to live in a Muggle neighborhood, so if I didn't do it, there shouldn't be a reason."

"Is that what you did you did to David," she asked, knowing full well there were a few things Oliver had done to him. "After we untied him?"

"Yeah," Oliver nodded, opening the door into their target department. "I was halfway tempted to make him totally forget you, but that's beyond my level." Walking up to the receptionist, a tall witch with a pointed hat, Oliver said, "We have an appointment with Percy Weasley?"

"Go right in," she nodded, pointing to the next door behind her desk. "Second door to the left, Mr. Weasley is expecting you."

Getting this done may have been inconvenient for Percy, but Oliver didn't mind so much. He didn't have to wait, didn't even have to give his name, since Percy usually didn't work here and had likely just told her to send in the first person who knew to say his name. The second door on the left had the name "Alastor Grumboil" on it; it was left somewhat ajar.

Percy was sitting at the desk inside, organizing paper work between a pair of folders that he had sitting on top of Grumboil's own plethora of things. The door creaked when it opened, and Percy looked up. "Oliver! Good, I was just making sure everything was in order, go ahead and take a seat...and you must be Jessica? No," Percy flipped through some of his parchment, "No Conner?"

"He had to work today," she said, sitting down.

"Shouldn't matter," Percy mumbled. "I want to hand-wave this as much as possible." Oliver practically fell into his chair, hearing Percy say something like that. He was an emotional basket case after the war was over. Not Percy, though...Percy had just turned into a rogue. Even when he tried to put a serious tone into his voice, it still sounded a little fake. "Right, then. On the day in question, you attacked a Muggle with magic, in plain view of two others, for the purposes of defense?"

"He was defending me," Jessica became more than a little defensive about it herself. "He was going to hit me with a bat. I'd probably be dead otherwise."

"So," Percy scribbled something on a parchment, and went on reading over another. "According to the preliminary report you filed, you tied him up with a rope-bind curse, and then," Percy's eyes narrowed; he stared intently at the parchment. It was instantly clear that he hadn't had time to read it yet. "And then a Dementor flew in through the window? What?"

"Yeah," Oliver said. "Pretty much exactly what happened. I know it sounds crazy..."

"Well, I suppose it's not so unbelievable these days, with the Dementors scattered," Percy answered. "But Dementors don't...just fly into random windows. Not that I don't believe you, but it's not very likely for one of them to just happen upon the only wizard living in the area...and it attacked the other Muggle in the room?"

"He was waving around Oliver's wand," Jessica told him. "He was...he was just curious, tried to make more rope come out of it, and then he was just...on the floor."

"Well, that certainly justifies the use of a Patronus charm in front of Muggles who've already seen magic anyway, albeit for five minutes," Percy grabbed a stamp that read 'Acceptable Use' and banged it on the parchment. He signed it, and handed it over to Oliver. "Both of you sign that under my name. And put your signature on this," Percy rummaged in the desk drawers, eventually coming out with a blank form. "This man is so unorganized...here. I'll fill it in later and leave it with the Aurors. If they can ever spare someone, little things like Dementors randomly attacking people in Muggle communities ought to be investigated, I think."

"Right," Oliver did so. He watched Percy close his folder, holding the last form on top so he wouldn't forget it.

"That'll do it," Percy said, getting up. "You shouldn't hear from anyone again unless the Aurors find out anything noteworthy about the Dementor...sorry I have to cut and run, Oliver, I really didn't have room for this in my schedule," Percy quickly added, "Not that I mind, but you know how it is...keep in touch, will you, let me know how your game goes?"

"Will do," Oliver answered. Percy was out the door before he and Jessica were on their feet. "Well, it pays to have friends in high places, doesn't it?"

"That wasn't nearly as...involved as I thought it would be," she confessed.

"He wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to hand-wave it." As they made their way back to the lifts, Oliver said, "Percy's changed a lot...back in school, he'd drop dead before breaking rules, or even bending them like that. His brother," Oliver stopped himself. "Nevermind...let's do some light shopping."

"Shopping?" Jessica seemed amused by this idea. Following him into the lift, she didn't say anything more until it came to a stop at the Atrium and they walked out. She felt self-concious with other wizards in the cramped space, and didn't want to say anything childish in front of anyone but Oliver. "What are we shopping for?"

"Couple of small things," Oliver said. "And I need to stop at the post and send an Owl to my team's manager, so I can get those tickets." Halfway down the Atrium, after they passed the fountain, Oliver veered off to an exit fireplace with a small line. He reached for the communal Floo powder, and handed her a pinch. "Okay...first you throw it in...then you say where you're going nice and loud, then just walk. We're going to Diagon Alley."

Staring at the wizard ahead of him as he walked through the flames, Jessica said, "Is it...hot, at all?"

"Nah, just tickles. Watch," Oliver tossed his Floo powder in. "Diagon Alley!" He took the step through, and came out nicely in the Leaky Cauldron. No one in the pub gave him a glance. Stepping away from the fireplace, Oliver waited a few seconds. When a few more passed, he started to worry, but soon enough, Jessica came spinning out. He caught her before she could fall. "Whoa, there!"

"Wow," she said. "That was so much better than the bus."

"Too bad my flat doesn't have a fireplace, isn't it," Oliver chuckled, as she reached up and brushed some powder from his shoulder. "This way..."

Once at the wall, Oliver started counting bricks. "One...two...three, one, two, here we go." Three taps with his wand, and the archway opened.

Jessica was long beyond the point where a magical archway surprised her. Oliver's Patronus had been more absurd. The cobbled street beyond was pretty impressive, though. Oliver still thought it was impressive. Being a pureblood, he never saw Diagon Alley quite the same as a Muggleborn would, but it was still a wonder in its own right. "Here we are, then...Diagon Alley, center of commerce. This won't take long..."

One look at her as they walked down the street told him that she would have all the patience in the world, though. She was positively endearing, with the look of a Hogwarts first year coming to buy her school supplies plastered all over her face. To her credit, she went for a long time before she saw something so absurd that she couldn't help but point it out. "Is that...is that store advertising self-stirring cauldrons?"

"Yeah," Oliver said. "Never did try one of those. My old Potions teacher probably would've failed us just for bringing it into his classroom...anyway, there's the first stop..."

The trip to the Public Owlry was quick and painless. Oliver wrote the letter to the team manager, paid the clerk, and watched the owl fly off. While they were walking back outside, Jessica dug her hands into her pockets, trying not to shiver. It was really too early yet, for it to be this cold. "You know, when you said you had to send an owl out...I kept telling myself it was just a figure of speech."

"Heh, some things are simple." Feeling sympathetic, Oliver yanked his scarf off of his neck, and wrapped it around hers. She looked like she wanted to tell him not to bother, but he did it so fast that it would've been an awkward thing to say. "Some things aren't. I'm sorry, I can't resist this, I have to see it." Taking the few steps over to the news stand, Oliver paid for a copy of the Daily Prophet and opened it right to the sports section, with Jessica reading over his shoulder by the time he'd found Rita Skeeter's bi-line. The headline read, "Puddlemere's New Chaser; Excellent or Ecto-friskey?"

Having absolutely no idea what in the world that was supposed to mean, Oliver began reading. Halfway down, he was finished with Rita's usual suspense-building introduction and made it to the part that sent his head spinning. He could not, in any way, believe it.

Although no one would deny Oliver Wood's skill at the game, this reporter did find something completely unexpected during a visit to Hogwarts in order to get the full scoop on Mr. Wood direct from his teachers.

Instead, a ghost infamous at the school for haunting several bathrooms recounted an unbelievable story of a visit Mr. Wood once had to a tub she frequented, where he had been eager to...

Forcing himself to stop reading, Oliver nearly yelled, 'Are you kidding me?! Myrtle came on to me!' But, he didn't. In fact, Oliver found that he wasn't nearly as upset as the blatant lie probably should've made him feel. After everything he'd been through, a Rita Skeeter interpretation of the facts just seemed petty and maybe even the opposite of noteworthy.

From the fact that he hadn't heard a word about this from his coach or the manager, he wondered if they felt the same. "Well, that's a load of bull. Merlin's pants, that woman couldn't write the truth to save her life."

"She reads like a tabloid," Jessica added.

"She's never written a sports article in her life, either," Oliver rolled his eyes. "Not even supposed to be allowed in Hogwarts anymore...if McGonagall finds out how she does it, there'll be hell to pay." Folding the paper over twice, Oliver summarily tossed it into the newstand's rubbish bin. "That's enough of that."

His real stop for the day, the one that wasn't necessitated by responsibility and things he had to do in order to keep reality functioning properly, was right across the street. 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' was, by and large, Oliver's favorite place in the world to spend money. Not two seconds after walking in, he spied a manager behind the counter he was on a first name basis with, unfortunately hunched over his own copy of the Daily Prophet. Letting out a sigh, Oliver nevertheless said, "Lester!"

Looking up, the clerk shoved the paper aside. "Oi, Wood! You see yourself in the paper?"

"Yes," Oliver drawled, his voice low. He could hear Jessica trying not to laugh and failing, somewhat. "I need to pick up a couple of things...you got any Puddlemere T-Shirts left in," he turned to Jessica, "What's Conner's size?"

"Medium," she filled in.

Turning back to Lester, Oliver repeated, "Medium?"

"Are you kidding?" For a second, Oliver was worried his plans at a gift had fallen flat, but Lester went on. "We stocked up on everything Puddlemere and Tornados so much we'll have surplus for a year...the merch is going like mad, what with it being the first game since You-Know-Who's been gone. Hang on, let me find the damned T-Shirts..."

As Lester went off into the T-shirt section, Jessica started looking around. She noticed, immediately, that the shop was bigger inside than outside, and she also noticed that Lester hadn't been kidding; merchandise, from action figures to posters to team-themed robes labeled either "Puddlemere United" or "Tutshill Tornados" dominated the store, eclipsing the other teams. Everyone else in the store was digging through someone with one of those names on it.

Inching her way down the line of robes, she guessed they must've been the equivalent to wearing a jersey with a football player's name and number on it. That wasn't what interested her, though. "Oliver, look!"

She actually grabbed him and tried to make him spin around faster. She had to pull him over, and Oliver came without a fight, curious as to what had gotten her excited. When he saw it, he couldn't believe his eyes. "I...I haven't even played a game yet!"

The Navy-blue Puddlemere robe stared right back at him, its number and Name reading "667" and Wood.

"Oh, hey," Lester took this moment to come back, a fresh, packaged T-shirt under one arm. "We just got those in. Why don't you take one? On the house, just tell anyone who interviews you about it, eh?

"Les," Oliver said, "I already have one!"

"I'll take it." Jessica already had the robe off the hanger. "I can't wait to see Conner's face when he sees me being a crazier fan than he is."

Opening his mouth to say something, perhaps to protest somehow, Oliver was at a loss for words. He'd been playing Quidditch all his life. He was in the pitch infinitely more than he was in the stands, and he suddenly wondered if, perhaps, he had no idea what fan culture actually was. Sure, he'd loved being in the stands for the end of the World Cup a few years back, but he hadn't practically jumped into the pitch.

And now, people were buying copies of his game robes. One of his friends would be wearing it. All at once, Oliver realized how out of the loop he'd been since moving to a Muggle neighborhood and not even keeping up with the news. He realized his parents were going to kill him when they found out he didn't tell them he had his own merchandise.

"You need anything else, Mate?"

Blinking himself back to reality, Oliver looked at Lester for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he was forgetting. "Omnioculars...two sets...my parents already have some, I know that much, at least..."

"Phew," Lester went back behind the desk, where the item in question was stocked high up, out of typical customer reach. He had to climb on a ladder. "I remember when you bought your first broomstick here, Oliver. You were all excited, said you'd been saving up for a Nimbus since your first year at school so you could get one when you made the team..."

Again, Oliver had to think about that. He wasn't filthy rich, to be sure, but his salary from being the reserve Keeper had let him be more than well-off. And the substantial raise meant he would be financially secure for the foreseeable future if he didn't blow it all needlessly.

He did not plan on doing that. He certainly wasn't going to be one of those athletes who had no concept of saving for the future. What was the point of the work he'd put into it already, if he just did that?

Oliver's comment made Jessica realize that he was buying things solely for her and Conner's benefit. She didn't know much about Quidditch, but she had a hard time imagining that it was any harder to enjoy than a Muggle sport without having the best seats in the house. "Oliver, you don't have to..."

"It's alright," he said, already in the process of paying. "I got a nice enough raise when I was put on the main team...and plenty of it goes into savings as it is. I'm fine as long as I don't do this every day."

Lester gave Oliver one last wish for good luck, and Oliver left the store with that. The other customers were starting to stare at him, and he really didn't know how he would take it if someone actually asked for an autograph. Or, worse still, if someone asked him about Rita Skeeter's article.

Still, he wondered how obvious he might be, anyway, considering that Jessica was now following him with Oliver Wood Quidditch robes folded under her arm. As absurd as it was, he couldn't help but smile at her.

That smile faded when he remembered how they were getting home, though. "Ugh...we have to get back on the Knight Bus..."