Chapter 1 : Wood & Wild
| ||Rating: 12+||Chapter Reviews: 8|
Background: Font color:
Disclaimer: Everyone that you donít know belongs to me, otherwise, they are the invention of the wonderful JK Rowling.
Rating: Iím making this PG-13, for innuendo and the contents of later chapters.
Spoilers: This fic takes place during "Prisoner of Azkaban," and so there are spoilers for that.
Reviews: Please review, Iíd love to know what you think. Either email me at firstname.lastname@example.org or join my Yahoo group (the address is at the end of the chapter).
Chapter One: Arrival at Hogwarts
Fiona Wild stretched and opened her eyes. Pipit, her tawny owl, gave a small hoot as Fiona turned over in her direction to look at the clock. It was an ordinary Muggle one, which said that the time was 8:30. Fiona yawned, and stretched again, before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, and standing up. She opened her green curtains, and stared out of the window to the countryside surrounding her house.
She lived in a small village not far outside Glasgow. There were not many houses in it at all, and, when they met, Muggles and wizards intermingled quite well. All the Muggles were concentrated at one end of the village, and this meant that magic could be used with discretion.
Fiona smiled as she thought back on the times her friend Oliver Wood and herself had got into trouble for provoking other wizards into using their magic. Oliver had turned seventeen over the summer holidays, and Fiona was soon to have her birthday, and then they would have tremendous fun, for they would both be allowed to use magic at all times, not just while they were at school.
Fiona and Oliver were going to be entering their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the only magical school in Britain, and today was their last day of freedom. Fiona smiled wryly. She didnít think of going to school as a chore, though. In fact, she knew she was going to miss it once she left.
Most of Hogwartsí students caught the Hogwarts Express from London, but as the school was situated in Scotland somewhere (itís true whereabouts was unknown, due the wards placed upon it), Fiona, Oliver, and the other Hogwarts students that lived closer to the school used Floo Powder to get to Hogsmeade, a village close to Hogwarts. It was the only magical village in Britain. They then walked up to the school from the village.
Since the train didnít arrive until the evening, none of the students were expected until then, and as using the Floo Network took minutes, Fiona didnít have to rush around, getting ready to leave. Instead, she stretched again, and tied the curtains back, the light flashing off her necklace as she turned away from the window. She absentmindedly fingered the three gold hoops that hung, fused, from the silver chain around her neck, as she surveyed her room. Fiona figured that she might as well start packing before getting dressed, that way if she got hot and sweaty, as she was bound to do since her cauldron was quite heavy, she wouldnít be taking two showers.
She quickly made her bed, and began to pack her books into her cauldron, along with her spare robes and Muggle clothes. She was eternally grateful that seventh year students were allowed to wear Muggle clothing, as long as they wore their school robes. Muggle clothing was much more comfortable than the Hogwarts uniform, in Fionaís opinion.
Soon, her trunk was packed, and her broomstick, a Nimbus Seventeen Hundred, was resting on top of it. She nodded her head in satisfaction, and grabbing her dressing gown, raced to get to the bathroom before her younger sister, Morna.
Feeling refreshed from her shower, Fiona walked happily down the corridor to her bedroom, drying her long hair as she went. Her brown-green eyes grew greener as she thought back over the summerís adventures. Her eyes always took on a green tinge when she was happy. As she entered her room, she saw Pipit chattering away noisily to a barn owl. It was Gryffin, Oliverís owl, and, when he saw her, he flew over to her to deliver Oliverís note.
"Thanks, Gryffin." Fiona stroked his soft pale brown feathers before he returned to Pipitís perch.
Hi, Fiona, once you get your lazy arse out of bed, want to bring your stuff over here, so we can Floo together? Oliver
Fiona rolled her eyes at the lazy arse comment. She knew that heíd probably only just got out of bed himself. After all, he had to make up the sleep he lost during term time due to his gruelling Quidditch schedule somehow.
She scribbled a note back, saying sheíd be over within the hour, and to leave some food for her. Fiona attached it to the leg that Gryffin offered her, and watched the barn owl wing his way across the woods to Oliverís house.
She finished drying her brown-red waist length hair, and put it into a practical braid. Putting on her black jeans and a soft green top, she then began to heft her trunk down the stairs.
She met Morna at the bottom. "Where are you going so early?" her sister asked, her green eyes curious.
"Help me with this, and Iíll tell you," Fiona instructed, and the two girls heaved the trunk into the living room.
"Oliver, huh?" Morna said, with a sparkle in her eye. "The gorgeous Quidditch captain?" she smirked. "Whose necklace I noticed you havenít taken off since he gave it to you?"
Fiona just looked at her. "I donít know what youíre going on about. Iíve been friends with him since we were five." She pointed to the fireplace. "Could you light that so I can Floo over to his place? Iím going to get my broomstick and Pipitís cage."
Morna stuck her tongue out at her sister and tossed her head, throwing her dark hair over a shoulder. Fiona just gave her sister a dirty look and walked out. By the time Fiona returned with Pipit flying in front of her, there was a roaring fire.
Fiona put the broomstick and cage down beside her trunk, and entered the kitchen, to see her mother reading the Daily Prophet. "Oh, morning, Fiona. Ready for your last year?" Then she frowned. "Iím not sure about letting Morna go, though."
Fiona looked worried, and Morna looked outraged. "Why not?" the younger sister demanded.
"Because of Sirius Black, thatís why," her mother shot back.
Fiona put a comforting hand on her motherís shoulder. "Donít worry, Mum. Nobodyís going to get into Hogwarts with Dumbledore as Headmaster. And, besides, theyíre bound to catch Black soon, arenít they?"
Mrs Wildís face brightened slightly. "Youíre right, Fiona. Still, I want you to keep an eye on Morna. You will, wonít you?"
Morna snorted. "She wonít have time, sheíll be too busy keeping both eyes on our Keeper."
Fiona rolled her eyes. "Morna," she started.
Mrs Wild looked startled. "Keeper? You mean, Oliver? You could do worse, Fiona. Heís a nice-looking boy, and he has prospects."
Fiona groaned. "Mum, stop it. Of course, Iíll keep an eye on Morna, although I think itís more Harry Potter Blackíll be after."
Morna frowned. "Why?" Suddenly, her face dropped. "Heavens, Ginny wonít be happy about that." She was going into her second year, where she was a friend of Ginny Weasley, who, it was widely known, had had a crush on Harry since last year.
"I shouldnít imagine Harry would be, either," Mrs Wild retorted. "Youíre right again, though, Fiona. That poor boy always seems to attract trouble."
"Itís not his fault, though, Mum," Morna defended. "He canít help what happened when he was one."
Fiona smiled behind her hand. She knew that Morna had probably heard that directly from Ginny. But she also knew that the little redhead, and indeed her own sister, was right. Fiona admired the boy for putting up with it all while managing to keep his head.
"Well, whoever heís after, keep an eye on your sister."
Fiona smiled, and gave her mother a small kiss. "I always do, Mum. Donít worry, sheíll be fine. Sheís quite adept at hexes now, you know. I saw her sic one on a Slytherin classmate last year. It was quite impressive."
"Morna!" Mrs Wild turned to her youngest child, as Fiona grinned at her sisterís chagrined face.
"Mum," she said, before her mother could start on a tirade, "Iím heading over to Oliverís. Iíll get something to eat there. Iím taking my stuff with me now, since weíre planning to Floo from his house."
"Okay, dear," her mother agreed readily. "Iíll see you at Christmas," she said absently as she turned to Morna again.
Fiona grinned, and made her escape before her mother realised that she had left. Sending Pipit flying out the window, placing the owlís cage and her broom precariously on top of her trunk, she grabbed a handle, took a pinch of Floo Powder, and yelled, "Wood House."
She emerged at Oliverís house, coughing and gasping. Despite having to use the Floo Network a lot, Fiona always hated it. It made her feel as though she couldnít breathe. She couldnít wait until she could Apparate.
Brushing herself down, she looked up into Oliverís amused grey eyes. "Hello, Fiona. Have a nice trip?"
Fiona just growled at him, and let Pipit in through the living room window. "You got any food, Wood, Ďcause Iím starving. I had to make my escape without breakfast."
Oliver stood up straighter. "Food, Wild? You must be joking. You would have eaten hours ago, if youíd got up at a reasonable hour."
Fiona just raised an eyebrow, and pushed past him to go to the kitchen. Oliver turned to follow her, looking slightly abashed when Fiona looked around the kitchen, noticing the bread out, ready for toasting. "I see. So, were you preparing an early lunch, then, Oliver?" she grinned.
Oliver smiled then and held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. This was the last day I could lie in, all right?"
Fiona grinned, and grabbed a piece of bread, buttering it quickly. "Whereís your Mum?"
Oliver joined her at the table, reaching for the jam. "Sheís outside, gardening. Did you get to see your Dad before he left?"
Fiona shook her head, and swallowed. "I got up early enough," she glanced pointedly at him, but Oliver ignored her, "but then I packed, so I didnít get a chance. You?"
"No, me neither. I think with this Black business, theyíre a bit overworked at the Ministry," Oliver replied.
Fiona nodded. Both Mr Wood and Mr Wild worked at the Ministry for Magic. Her father worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Mr Wood worked in the Department of Accidental Magic Reversal. The escape of Sirius Black had meant that all departments of the Ministry were required to put in more hours, and they hadnít seen their fathers much over the recent months.
"Well, weíll be safe enough once we get to Hogwarts," Fiona said, draining her glass of milk.
"Hogwarts." Oliverís eyes misted over. "You know, itís our last year to win the Quidditch Cup."
Fiona smiled softly. You couldnít be around Oliver for very long without the conversation turning to Quidditch. She didnít mind, though, she liked the game almost as much as her friend did.
"They stand a good chance next year as well, as long as they can find a good enough Keeper," Fiona pointed out.
Oliverís face fell, until she added, "Of course, weíre bound to win this year. We shouldíve won it the last two years, ever since Harryís been on the team, but itís just been bad luck."
Oliver perked up at Harryís name. "Heís such a wonderful Seeker. Iíve never seen his equal." Then he placed his chin on his right hand, and he frowned. "Still, with Black loose, thereís no doubt heíll try and get to Harry. Thatís the trouble with being so famous. Hopefully, it wonít distract him, but maybe youíd better put the Reserves through more Seeker training."
Fiona groaned. She was the Reserve Keeper for Gryffindor, and captain of the Reserve team. They had a whole Reserve team, apart from a Seeker, so sheíd hit upon the idea of training up the members of the Reserve who had a bit of talent when it came to Seeking, in case anything should happen to Harry.
Two years ago, Harry had caught Professor Quirrell attempting to steal the Philosopherís Stone, and ended up unconscious while the Quidditch Final took place. They had been going to play Mary Price, who normally played as a Chaser, as Seeker. Unfortunately, Mary had come down with a bad case of the flu, and couldnít play. So Gryffindor had had to play one player short, and were steamrollered. Both Oliver and Fiona were hoping that, should they have to substitute another Seeker again, the results would be better than last time.
Still, when it came to Quidditch, Oliver was a hard taskmaster, and that meant, as Reserve Captain, Fiona had to be as well. She didnít know how he kept it up. Every year, she ended up exhausted. And, since Oliver was a brilliant Keeper, and had never been injured enough to be taken off the pitch whilst sheíd been the Reserve Keeper, Fiona had never actually played in a match. Still, she preferred it that way, if it meant Oliver was safe and well. She remembered the fear that stopped up her throat when, the first time he played Quidditch for Gryffindor, heíd ended up in the hospital wing for a week.
The previous year, Quidditch had been cancelled due to the suspicious attacks and other goings-on that been occurring at school. Oliver had been furious, and Fiona hadnít been much happier. Again, Harry Potter had discovered that it had been You-Know-Whoís doing, and everything had turned out right in the end, but, as Oliver pointed out, it meant that this year was the last year that Gryffindor, with him as Captain, could win the Quidditch Cup. Fiona hoped with all her heart that Black wouldnít somehow interfere with that.
She looked up into Oliverís serious grey eyes. "Iíll do my best, but there isnít anyone on that team whoís any better than Mary. Guess Iíll just have to take a leaf out of your book and push her." She smiled at him, but he didnít rise to the teasing, instead remaining serious.
"Fiona," he said, "youíre not that bad as a Seeker, you know."
Fiona looked horrified. "What? Iíve always been a Keeper, you know that. And, if I ever had to play another position, it was Beater. Admittedly, Iím a better Seeker than a Chaser, but thatís not saying much."
Oliver grinned. "Youíre right, you really are bloody awful as a Chaser, but itís not a Chaser we need. Youíre slight enough to be a Seeker, and all those tricks you used to pull on a broomstick when we were younger certainly shows your agility. And, Iíve seen you putting Mary through her paces. Youíre better than her, at any rate."
A light suddenly shone in Fionaís eyes. "You reckon? Hmm, maybe. Iíll think about it, although, we might get a brilliant Seeker for the Reserves from the trials."
Oliver shrugged. "Youíre in charge of them this year, arenít you? We donít need anyone else for the team, so I guess itís up to you."
Fiona nodded. "Weíll see. I donít hold out too much hope, though. Everyone knows theyíll only end up on the Reserve team, anyway, but I guess we should think about what happens next year, once weíre gone." She laughed. "Theyíre going to be lost without their captains!"
"Well, the Weasleys would make good joint captains, despite taking nothing seriously," Oliver reflected. "Still, I think it might be Alicia. Sheís got a good head on her shoulders."
"Yeah, sheíd make a good Captain, if only for a couple of years," Fiona agreed. Alicia was one of their friends, and it was Fionaís training that had advanced her level of playing to a top-notch Chaser, enabling Oliver to choose her for the third Chaserís position a couple of years ago. "But, in a few years time, Harryíll be the only one left of the current team. Guess that makes him Captain by default."
"Heíll make a good Captain," Oliver said. "Heís got guts, and talent, and determination."
"He might go a little easier on his team than you, though," Fiona chuckled, and then stopped at Oliverís glare. "Oh, probably not, though, after all, heís been taught by the best."
Oliver had the grace to blush slightly, and then looked out the window. The clouds were rolling in, covering what had been a clear blue sky with dark grey clouds. "Looks like the weatherís taking a turn for the worse just as school starts," he commented.
Fiona turned, and groaned. "Great. I donít fancy lugging my trunk, broom, and Pipit up to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade in that."
"Why donít we just let Pipit and Gryffin fly to Hogwarts?" Oliver suggested. "Itís not like weíd use the cages when weíre there anyway, and weíre close enough for them to fly it, no problem."
Fiona brightened. "Thatís a good idea. Phew, I was dreading dragging her through the rain. Itís been great having her, though. I canít imagine how we managed without owls before." Both her and Oliver had got their owls for their last year at Hogwarts, their parents hoping that their children would keep in touch with them more often.
Oliver grinned. "We just got more exercise, and surprised each other more, thatís all." All summer, the two of them had been owling each other their plans. Before, as Oliver said, they ran over to each otherís houses, without knowing whether the other was there or not.
"As for getting rained on, we donít have to worry about that," Oliver smirked.
"Why? I donít have enough arms to carry an umbrella as well, Ollie," Fiona asked, a twinkle in her eyes. She knew he hated being called Ollie.
"You forget, dear Fifi, that Iím already of age, and can easily cast a spell over us both," he answered, returning the favour of a hated name.
Fiona grinned. "Youíre right, I had forgotten. I canít wait until Iím seventeen as well, although, of course, Iíll be at Hogwarts, so it wonít make any difference, but I think Iíll feel better, somehow."
"I know what you mean," Oliver agreed. He glanced out of the window again. "You want to have a quick fly around before it starts to pour?"
Fiona rolled her eyes. "You starting on me already, Captain?" She laughed. "All right, itíll be a laugh. And this time, Iíll get one past you."
The two friends joked with each other as they went outside into the Woodsí back garden, meeting his mother on her way in. "Hello, Fiona," she greeted her. "Donít you two stay out too long. We wouldnít want you getting a cold before youíve even got to Hogwarts."
Fiona snorted as Mrs Wood went in. "Obviously, she doesnít know what you put your team through."
Oliver smiled beatifically. "But Gryffindor are the hardiest team there is, thanks to me."
"Aha, finally, you admit it! You do put your team through hell," Fiona laughed as she mounted her broom.
"Now, I never mentioned hell." Oliver grinned, and he soared up into the air, looping around the Quidditch hoops at the furthest end of the garden. Fiona swooped down and grabbed the Quaffle with one hand. She attempted to score, but Oliver blocked each and every attempt.
"This is ridiculous," Fiona gasped, after half an hour of playing. "I think Iím getting worse!" She hadnít scored once, and was tired of throwing the Quaffle, only to have to go chasing after it once Oliver had hit it away. She always tried to catch it before it hit the ground. Many a time before, theyíd spent a few good hours searching for the Quaffle when itíd landed and got lost amongst the thick grass that surrounded the pitch.
She retuned to the hoops, where Oliver was grinning. "What are you smiling at?"
"Your catching abilityís getting better. Youíd make a half decent Seeker, I tell you," Oliver answered.
"Here." She threw the Quaffle at him. "Your turn. I still have to be the second best Keeper Gryffindor has. Give me your best shot."
Oliver complied, and Fiona fielded it easily. Oliver managed to get a few goals, but, as he was a better Chaser, there wasnít actually much to set them apart in their Keeping ability.
"Youíre getting better, Fiona," Oliver complimented. "Itís a shame youíve never had a chance to play in a match," he said, completely forgetting that that wouldíve required him having a serious injury.
Fiona shrugged. "I wish I couldíve done, but thereís no point in dwelling on it. The only way I couldíve done that was by being in another House, and I think Iíd rather stay in Gryffindor, thanks."
As theyíd been playing, the sky had darkened, unnoticed by them, and Oliver had just tossed the Quaffle to Fiona when they felt the first drops of rain. Oliver looked up. "Looks like we should head inside."
Fiona pretended to look amazed. "Excuse me, but did Captain Wood just suggest cutting short practise because of a little rain?" She held her hand to her heart, and flew without hands. "Why, good sir, youíve revealed yourself. What have you done with the dastardly, but dashing, Oliver, that I know and love?"
Oliver flew over to her and snatched the Quaffle out of her hand, throwing her off balance. She ended up flying upside down. "Thanks, Oliver," she said sarcastically.
"Youíre welcome. And, just to prove itís me, the only reason Iím suggesting going inside is because weíre not dressed to be out in the rain, and Gryffindor canít afford both of us to be ill as soon as we get there." Oliver smiled, and flew off to return the Quaffle to its box.
Fiona growled, "Bloody boy. Why I hang around with him, Iíll never know." But, as she followed him to the ground, she knew in her heart the answer to that. He was her best friend. He was the only wizarding child her age that lived in the village, so it was natural that theyíd become friends. Heíd developed in her a passion for Quidditch, and theyíd spent each summer having a great time, playing tricks on the adults, and playing Quidditch from as soon as theyíd got their first brooms. For the past few years, though, Fiona was beginning to realise that she didnít just like him as a friend. Although she ignored the ribbing that Morna always gave her concerning Oliver, Fiona had to reluctantly admit that her little sister was right. Oliver was gorgeous, and she did have a thing for him. A major thing.
But, Fiona reflected, Iím not about to tell him, and ruin our whole friendship. Itís not like we have a lot of time left together, anyway. Just this year. Her heart sank as she thought about the end of an era at Hogwarts. She hadnít a clue what she was going to do once sheíd left. Sheíd been in the top half of the year in classes, but the best thing she could do was play Quidditch, and, as Oliver had pointed out, sheíd never played a match. Maybe she could be a coach. No, Iíd have to have played first, Fiona told herself sadly. Sheíd always been Oliverís second, and, once he left and went on his way, which she was sure was going to involve playing professional Quidditch, sheíd be on her own.
It was with these sad thoughts running through her head that she landed, and helped Oliver carry the Quidditch Ball box back into the garden shed. She couldnít stay in a bad mood for long around Oliver, though. He soon had her laughing and smiling again.
When they went inside, they found that Mrs Wood had prepared a nice lunch for them, and the three chatted happily in the kitchen. Until, that is, Mrs Wood brought up the future. Oliver grew quiet, and kept a close eye on Fiona. He knew he wanted to play Quidditch professionally, but he wasnít sure what Fiona wanted to do. She never talked about it. He knew her marks were good enough to be able to get a lot of jobs, but, he reflected, he couldnít imagine life without her. Whenever heíd been involved in anything to do with Quidditch, she was there, encouraging and helping him, challenging him. He knew he wouldnít be as good as he was without Fionaís help, although it worked both ways. They had had many an argument when she thought he had pushed her too hard. In the end, though, her accomplishments as a Keeper were because of his coaching.
Oliver noticed her frowning, and awaited her reply to his motherís question with bated breath. "I, uh, I donít know, exactly, Mrs Wood," she answered hesitantly. "All Iíve ever really been interested in was Quidditch, but Iím not good enough to join a team."
"Rubbish," Mrs Wood brushed aside Fionaís last comment. "Iíve seen you playing, and youíre near as good as Oliver here. You could get on a team if you really tried." Oliverís mother had played professional Quidditch herself, before she was married, so her opinion counted for a lot, and Oliverís first flight on a broom had been under her encouragement. His passion for the game had been originally fired by his mother, and he knew she respected Fionaís flying abilities.
Oliver watched as Fionaís face visibly brightened. "You really think so, Mrs Wood? Iíd love that. Only, I donít want to leaveÖ" she trailed off, glancing sideways at Oliver as she did so.
Mrs Wood noticed her look, and covered her hand with her own. "Iím sure itíll all work out all right in the end, Fiona. Maybe youíll end up on the same team, you never know."
Fiona blushed, and smiled at his mother, whilst Oliver looked bewildered between the two of them. He was sure something had passed between them that heíd missed. He shrugged inwardly, and then looked at the clock. It was pointing towards ĎGet a move on, or youíll be late!í
"Right, weíd better get going." He jumped up, and pointed at the clock. "Come on, Fiona. Weíd better find our owls, and tell them weíre off."
Mrs Wood followed them into the living room. "Iíll tell them youíve gone, donít worry. Come here, Oliver." Her son made his way, somewhat reluctantly, over to his mother, who gave him a fierce hug. She then turned to Fiona, and gave her a hug as well. "Now, I donít want to hear that you twoíve got into trouble again." Oliver and Fiona glanced at each other, and smiled. "Still, I reckon youíll be too busy with Quidditch to worry about anything else. Donít forget youíve got NEWTs to take this year as well."
Both teenagers groaned in unison, and Oliver said, "Mum, please donít mention them. Weíve got till June to worry about that."
Mrs Wood gave her son another quick hug, and said, as he grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder, "I want an owl winging itís way here next summer, telling me youíve won the Quidditch Cup this year, mind!"
Oliver grinned. "Count on it!" and jumped into the fire, yelling "Three Broomsticks" as he did so.
Fiona was about to follow him, when she felt his motherís hand on her shoulder. "Donít worry, dear. Oliver thinks more of you than even he realises at the moment. I have a feeling this yearís going to bring him a few surprises." She winked and smiled warmly.
Fiona smiled back, and followed Oliver into the fire. He caught her as she came stumbling out, coughing. His hands held her arms firmly until she stopped coughing, and then he gave her a swift hug. Fiona rested her head for a moment on his hard chest, relishing the feeling of him breathing, and hearing his heart beating.
"You okay?" he then asked, pulling her away from him, and looking down into her eyes.
She nodded, and silently wished that he wouldnít look straight at her when he was so worried about her. It made her melt. "Iíll be fine. Itís just, two trips in one day. Not good for the nerves."
"Here, dearie." Madam Rosmerta came striding up to them, holding a small glass of Butterbeer. "You get worse every year, Fiona Wild. Iíll bet youíll be glad when you can Apparate."
Fiona laughed, and accepted the Butterbeer gratefully. "Thanks, Madam Rosmerta. Yes, Iím waiting with bated breath. Although, Iím bound to have to take the test dozens of times before I pass, but anythingís better than the Floo Network."
Oliver still held one of Fionaís arms, relishing the feel of her muscles underneath his palm. "Youíll pass first time, and you know it. You can do pretty much anything, if you put your mind to it." He smiled at her, and then let go of her arm. He tried to ignore the tingling feeling heíd experienced when sheíd rested her head on his chest, and opened his trunk to fish out his school robes. "Weíd better put these on."
Fiona nodded, and handed the unfinished Butterbeer to Oliver whilst she dug out her own. He finished the drink without question, and helped Fiona into her robes. Madam Rosmerta observed silently, reflecting that the two people in front of her acted as though theyíd been married for years. Sheíd thought that theyíd end up with each other the first time that theyíd burst into her bar, but it seemed they were taking their own sweet time about it. Perhaps, Madam Rosmerta thought, the thought of not seeing each other again after the end of school might kick-start things.
"Weíll head up now, but Morna should be here soon. I think sheíll probably wait for Sean, but could you please make sure she stays until everyone else arrives?" Fiona asked, naming another second year who was friends with Morna.
Madam Rosmerta nodded. "Of course, dearie, donít trouble yourself. Now, be off with you. Donít want you cluttering up the fireplace, now do we?" she smiled.
She watched as the two of them dragged their trunks towards the front door, holding their brooms in their other hand. "Thank you, and see you at the first weekend," they chorused, as they always had. She smiled in return, and watched as Oliver put a spell to deflect the rain from them on them.
Fiona looked up towards the castle, surrounded by black clouds, lightening cracking around it. "Looks impressive, doesnít it?"
Oliver agreed, and added, "Looks like weíre early. The Hogwarts Express isnít here yet."
"Good, Iíd rather get settled before everyone else arrives," Fiona said.
They trudged up the hill to the castle in silence. When they arrived, Professor McGonagall met them on the steps. "Welcome back, you two," she smiled. Despite her stern nature, McGonagall was quite fond of the pair, although she would never let this on to them. They would take terrible advantage of it. "I trust youíre going to ensure that we win this year," she added quietly.
Fiona and Oliver grinned, and nodded. Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor, and, whilst being a strict Housemistress, was also an avid Quidditch enthusiast, and wanted to win just as much as everyone else.
"Come in, and take your things up to your dorms. Lucky Woodís of age now, otherwise youíd be soaking and freezing," she commented. "I canít think of what state the first years are going to be in after coming across the lake."
Fiona shuddered. She didnít want to think about it. It was bad enough out there with Oliverís spells surrounding them, but that lake had a vicious streak, she was sure. She was very thankful that the year they crossed the lake, it had been a gorgeous evening.
Fiona took out her wand, 9 inches, yew, with a unicorn hair core, and levitated her trunk. Mounting her broom, she zoomed up to the Fat Ladyís painting, Oliver and their trunks following, along with Professor McGonagallís voice yelling, "Wild, Wood, youíve not been here two minutes, and alreadyÖ. I donít know what to do with you!"
Fiona grinned as she dismounted, and then stood in front of the Fat Lady. "Um, Oliver, she didnít happen to tell you the password, did she?" she asked.
Oliver returned the grin. "Yes, luckily she did. Itís Fortuna Major."
The Fat Lady swung open, and the pair walked into the Gryffindor common room. "The look on her face when you took off was priceless," Oliver laughed.
Fiona smiled. "Iím glad you saw it. Iíve been dying to do that for years, but never had the guts." She began to head up the stairs. "Meet down here in a minute, okay?"
They floated their trunks up the spiral staircases. Fiona smiled at her bed, the one with the window overlooking the Quidditch pitch, and shoved her trunk against the end of it. Taking a happy look round her dorm, she strode out, and met Oliver in the common room. Together, they made their way down the many stairs, to see the rest of the school entering, wet and bedraggled.
Someone was talking about Dementors, and Fiona caught the tail end of a conversation that mentioned some being stationed at the entrance gates. "They must have been there just after we passed through. I certainly didnít feel anything," she commented to Oliver. She glanced round the Gryffindor table as they all sat down, looking for her sister. When she saw her, she was sitting with Ginny, who looked a little shaken, but Morna was fine. Fiona waved at her, and then sat with Oliver and their friends.
After the Sorting, which Oliver and herself watched carefully to see whether there were any potential Quidditch players amongst the new Gryffindors, Fiona noticed Harry Potter and his friend, Hermione, enter the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. Fiona frowned, but didnít think that much about it. Harry was always doing unusual things. She turned to the conversation Oliver had started with Joe OíKeefe, a Reserve Chaser, about, strangely enough, Quidditch.
Come along to Oliver and Fionaís Quidditch Practise (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/wood_and_wild), for discussion and new updates of Wood & Wild. The more the merrier.
Other Similar Stories
The Story of...
Iron Chef Dobby