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Only a Piece of Wood by daliha
Chapter 1 : Prologue: Unexpected
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 32

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Chapter Image: onlyInvetiability@TDA

October 20, 1975

The stars shone over them as the couple, hand in hand, walked briskly down the streets of London. She pulled her cloak close to her skin careful to keep a tight grip on her wand. “Charles,” she whispered as her husband suddenly stopped. “Charles, is everything alright?” She asked suddenly, hearing him emit a soft shocked sob. Her husband turned his brown eyes gave him an exhausted look and his hair stood on end.

“I think he's sick,” he answered, handing her the small bundle he held in his arms. She looked up, her eyes stared back at Charles who ran a shaky hand through his hair.  The woman took the baby holding him close; Charles could only stare as he’d never understand his son like Elaine could.

“No, he's just hungry, aren't you Oliver?” she cooed with a small smile. The baby kept his eyes closed but moved his small hands. Charles looked around noticing at the end of the streets a pair of men dressed in black robes.

“Elaine, hurry” he exclaimed and pushed her into an alleyway nearby. With Death Eaters all over, he couldn't afford to have his wife and child out in the open.

 In fact, Charles couldn't afford having a child, yet Elaine had different plans. It was all she had wanted ever since they had gotten married ten years ago.

Young and carefree they had been until Elaine decided to have a family in the middle of a war. The baby boy, to Charles Wood, was in no way a blessing.

“Charles, I need a chair” he turned and with a lazy flick in the dark, conjured a small fluffy loveseat. “Thank you,” she sat. Clearly she was as exhausted as he was. Giving birth a week ago had certainly taken a toll on his wife. She could barely use magic, even the most simple of spells had become too difficult for her to cast.

His head throbbed, Charles had no idea what else to do. He had fled with his wife and newborn child, what else could he do?

The Death Eaters, they stood outside his door, lit his house on fire when he refused to fight for his cause. If the Dark Lord called this purification, Charles called it murder, and there was no way he'd want any part of it. That night Charles stood his ground and managed to get his then pregnant wife out of the house safely, if any harm ever came to Elaine… he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He turned towards his wife who was whispering something to their child.

Charles had to keep them away form harm but where could he go?

With his parents dead, her's in hiding....

“Elaine!” he called, his sudden idea taking him over. How could Charles never have thought of it before?

The home of his grandparents! The Glen of Ravenclaw!

She stood up slowly putting a finger to her lips “Charles he's-”

“Take a hold of me,” he held her hand. She stared panicked at his sudden excitement.


“I know where we'll be safe!” With those words he closed his eyes, ignoring his wife's protest, knowing the second she'd open her eyes Elaine would smile. With a loud POP the couple disapparated from the spot.

“Keep your eyes closed” said Charles excited, the woman keep her eyes closed he held her leading her through the darkness until they stood in front of a small cottage.

“Charles!” she exclaimed holding Oliver close. They stood outside a small cottage surrounded by grassland and a nearby river. “Where are we?” she asked, walking towards the river. Her husband wrapped his arms around her waist laying his face on her shoulder.


October 31 1981

The terrible war had ended and little Oliver wasn't so little any more. He had just turned five years old when his parents had finally taken him outside.

They said today was a celebration; they said that today the Dark Lord had been defeated. Oliver could care less, his eyes were glued to the night sky where he witnessed witches and wizards flying, shooting different colored sparks out of their wands.

He loved the colors, they were beautiful but most of all he was mesmerized by the dives and other tricks the wizards had done on their brooms. “Mummy, can I fly?” he asked pulling on her robes. She looked down at him with a smile.

“Of course you can.” He smiled, running towards his father who was about to mount his broom.

His father smiled as he floated a few feet off the ground. Oliver felt his mother pick him up and put him into his father's arms.

“Hold on tight Oliver.”

He nodded as the broom went higher and higher into the night sky. The cold wind whipped itself against his face as they soared past the celebrating wizards. Oliver looked down everything seemed so small, the people looked like ants. He laughed as his father shot blue sparks out of his wand like the other wizards. Oliver though forgot about the sparks and instead focused on the wind whipping through his hair, suddenly his father spoke. “Someday, my son, this will be yours...”

Oliver turned to his father surprised, “Everything daddy?”


Though Oliver wouldn't dare say it, he could care less about the lands that sat beneath him. All that he knew was that he never wanted to stop flying.

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