Name: Oliver "I've Been a Right Bastard to My Whole Team" Wood
Age: Last day of being 17! I'd feel elated, if I weren't so damn terrified Weasely's stupid count down timer is going to kill me the instant I turn 18.
Hair: Don't look at me. I don't want you to see my hair like this! It's….flat…(sob)
Mood: Interchanging between total euphoria I'm now undrugged (and won the Cup to boot!) and extreme dejection. Somehow I don't think the misery has anything to do with the downer from Cally's absence.
Location: Common Room
Damn, it feels like it's been forever.
Since everything.
It was like Cally was my whole world, some sort of shining beacon that made everything else dull and blurry. And now she's gone… it's weird. It's like a cloud's been lifted – everything's loud and bright and normal again. Which would be great, except it's a bit sudden and full on, seeing as tonight's my birthday and the Weasley's are throwing a party to rival all parties. They're determined that no-one short of Dumbledore is going to be able to shut down this celebration.
I can't explain – I don't want to explain - what it was like, being Cally's bitch, her love puppet. A mere toy. Seriously, I'm repressing rather well. Madame Pomfrey is prescribing hourly doses of Butterbeer and chocolate, so I haven't had a chance to feel angry at Cally. Or myself.
But enough of that. I'm here to repress. To be happy. To do the funky Grindylow.
Oh sweet Merlin, is that Bell on the staircase?
Oliver James Wood is BACK, ladies and gentlemen. Shazam. And like he says, damn, it feels like forever since I've written his POV.