CHAPTER THREE
I first found out about Oliver's sister during my third year. It was a cold autumn morning and I could see Oliver gazing at his hands peculiarly. He didn't respond when people greeted him cheerfully. No wave hellos. Not even a blink of an eye. No recognition whatsoever. It frustrated me. Oliver could at least have the decency to acknowledge others around him. He was thinking about Quidditch plays, no doubt.
Or at least, that's what I assumed.
I continued watching him for a while, but was interrupted by a voice behind me. "You know, he's not doing this on purpose. Avoiding people, I mean." I turned around to see Percy Weasley standing before me. I knew that Percy was Oliver's roommate. And while they were interested in completely different things, the odd pair seemed to get along well.
"What would you know about this?" I inquired.
"Well…I can tell you, but I need to make sure this information isn't going to go around Hogwarts. It's a personal matter, you see." He said this in a very matter-of-fact kind of way.
"I promise I won't say a word," I assured him.
Percy sighed heavily. "Oliver Wood isn't what you think he is. He doesn't ignore people or stare off into the distance because he is arrogant or Quidditch-obsessed. Though, often, that is the case. But this time-" his voice caught in his throat and after clearing it, he continued, "No, you see, this time…it's something else. It's because he misses someone who was very dear to him. A couple of years ago, his sister died. Severe spell damage. Since she was a small girl at the time, she couldn't make it."
I stood there like a bloody idiot. I just stood there. You can't very well blame me, can you? It was a lot to take in. With a start, I realized Percy was still standing there so I felt like I should say something. I racked my brain to formulate the words, but they just simply refused to come out of my mouth. "Oh," was all I could say. And for the rest of the day, I was overcome by guilt.
That night, on a crazy whim, I decided to talk to Oliver. We may not have exactly been close friends, but I sure as hell needed to get rid of the accumulating guilt that seemed to disperse within me, causing my stomach to feel queasy. The only way to get rid of this feeling was to talk to him. So, I set out searching for Oliver.
It didn't take very long at all, actually. I just went to the one place where I knew he felt he truly belonged.
The Quidditch pitch.
I found him flying around the pitch and he didn't even seem to notice me at first. His robe fluttered behind him against the wind as he increased in speed.
I hopped onto my broomstick and set off after him into the dark night. The wind that night was abnormally strong and hit my face with an immense force. The wind roared in my ears as I gained momentum on my broom. High off the ground, in the middle of the pitch, I stopped and hovered slightly. There were no lights on, so there was blackness all around me. Even though I was soaring quietly through the air, searching for Oliver, I couldn't help gazing at my surroundings for a moment. The stars were bright silver and shone brilliantly against the dark sky, and the stadium looked grand around me. I distantly wondered how many games had been played in this pitch for the last few centuries. Hundreds? Thousands? I continued my search and finally spotted him below me.
We met twenty feet above the ground.
"Katie…" he whispered breathlessly. His face looked flushed and tired. I couldn't help but notice that he was shivering slightly. It actually was pretty cold that night. But for some strange reason, something told me that the reason for his shivering had nothing to do with the weather. "I didn't think anyone would be out here."
I grinned up at him. "You know me. I'm always looking for an excuse for extra practice."
He smiled. "Well, okay. Now that you're here, you want to shoot against me?" I nodded and caught the quaffle that he chucked to me, while still maintaining balance on my broom. We experimented with and perfected many Quidditch maneuvers. I shot a few long goals and tried a reverse pass to no avail, while Oliver managed to successfully pull off a Double Eight Loop and even a Starfish and Stick.
"Show off," I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. He laughed openly and only then did I realize that that was the first time I'd heard Oliver laugh in a long time.
After an hour or so of shooting practice, we decided to call it a night and pack up. He was placing the quaffle into the equipment crate, when I decided to pop the question.
Taking a deep breath, I sauntered over to wear he was busy packing up. Kneeling next to him on the ground, I looked him square in the eyes and asked, "Are you okay?"
He turned his body towards mine and had a confused expression on his face. "Why wouldn't I be?"
I sighed and let it out fast, like ripping off a band-aid. "Well...I know about your sister," then I braced myself for his reaction.
But much to my astonishment, his reaction was very…mature. He exhaled and nodded, and probably was aware that Percy had told me everything. "On this very day, three years ago, she died. I found her lying on the bed with blood trickling from her mouth. She was only four years old."
I could feel the water works coming, but before I completely broke down, I wanted to find out more. "How did it happen?"
"My dad left his wand out. She got really curious and started playing with it. She accidentally hexed herself."
"I'm sorry." We were silent for a few moments and then I asked, "What was her name?" We were sitting cross-legged from each other and even though it was dark outside, I could still see the way his face and eyes glazed over, as if lost in the memory.
"Emily Wood," he replied.
I know that it probably was hard for Oliver to open up to me, and I really wasn't helping by asking questions, but I couldn't help myself. So, I went on.
"What was she like?" I asked gently.
He wasn't looking at me anymore. His eyes were focused on the memory of his little sister. "Emily was beautiful. She had soft light brown hair and the biggest grayish-blue eyes you'd ever seen. She was always getting into mischief. Like a little female version of Fred and George. Emily was just like any other little kid in the sense that she loved having fun. She and I used to play games all the time and she loved dressing up. She'd always wear my mother's high heels and necklaces and say, 'Look at me Oliver! Look! I'm a big girl!'
"But most of all, the thing I miss most about her is her passion for magic. Emily loved watching me do simple little spells. She couldn't wait until she was old enough to do magic herself. Every day she would ask me 'Oliver, how much longer till I can learn magic?' and I would keep telling her 'Not that much longer Emily, you're getting closer every single day.
"It's actually ironic if you think about it, the very thing she loved eventually led to her undoing. She wasn't supposed to die, you know. She was only four. Emily was supposed to grow up and come to Hogwarts like everyone else. She would have become a great witch; I could feel it in my gut, even when she was just a little girl."
I nodded slowly. "I'm sorry." I knew Oliver was hurting on the inside, and I could sincerely feel his pain. His face looked so worn out and sick. My heart ached just looking at him. I desperately wished there was some way I could take away all of his pain and keep it within myself. "You are a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for, Oliver. I know you can get through this."
By now, the tears were streaming down my face. My vision became blurry, and my nose started getting runny. God, I hated crying. Oliver looked up from the ground and noticed my current condition. Silently, he turned so he was sitting next to me, put his arms around me and let my head rest against his shoulder while the tears came pouring out. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. Absently, he started stroking my hair gently and whispered noncommittal things like "Shh…" or "It's okay," every so often.
After what felt like forever, I lifted my head up and noticed that I'd nearly drenched his sweater! We both noticed his sweater and started laughing at the same time. Our arms were still wrapped around one another and neither of us felt the need to let go, nor did either of us want to. I looked up from his moist chest and met his gaze. Looking into his eyes made me feel like I was getting lost in some other dimension.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, taking notice that my voice sounded hoarse and dry.
"For what?" he asked, incredulous.
"For your sweater," I replied. He smiled and moved his face closer to mine. To kiss me? But then, just inches away from my lips, Oliver stopped and sighed, "Katie…"
"Yes?" I couldn't breathe.
He didn't answer. Instead, he put one hand under my chin, moved my face up to his and lightly kissed my cheek.
It all ended just as quickly as it had begun. He let go of me altogether and stood up. I followed his lead.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to head to bed. I suggest you do the same." I was stunned at how nonchalant he sounded. As if nothing had just happened between us. Oliver started to walk towards the castle but then stopped and turned back to face me. His expression softened. "Katie, I am really glad we had this conversation. You really are a great friend." And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.
I stood there, in the middle of the field, feeling helpless and utterly confused.
