Panacea

Panacea

Oliver Edward Wood was twenty years-old, but felt like he was twelve as he breathed out slowly, obstructing the windowpane in a small compartment onboard the Hogwarts Express.

His finger made a low squeaking sound as he dragged it solidly through the foggy glass, bristling a bit as a cold water droplet beaded in the crook of his knuckle before edging its way under his sleeve and down his arm.

"D'you mind?" the disgruntled-looking witch, who was seated across from him asked, running her hands through her neatly-coiffed head of grey hair. She proceeded to look him up and down, taking in his bright quidditch robes before snorting in disgust.

"Oh, sorry," Oliver replied flatly. The woman gave him another melodramatic snort, turning up her nose as if he suddenly reeked of a tremendous smell. He turned away from her, and her disapproval of him, to stare out the window. The fog from his breath had faded, leaving a crystal-clear windowpane as the warm morning rays of the sun were beginning to peek through the trees.

Smiling slowly, Oliver lowered his head to look down at his brilliantly-colored crimson and gold robes. Mindlessly fingering the gold piping at the edge of his sleeve, he watched the sun lazily glint off of his polished leather gloves. It had taken him a while to find his old Gryffindor quidditch uniform, but to Oliver, wearing it on this day had become oddly important. He figured if Headmaster Dumbledore was somewhere, wherever the hell dead people ended up, he'd smile knowing that one of his former quidditch captains was returning to Hogwarts in full regalia.

Oliver inhaled deeply and, in mid-sigh, suddenly remembered just how tight his old uniform was. The jersey had barely fit over his broad shoulders, and he'd found it necessary to unbutton a few more buttons at the color in order to breathe.

Coughing, he tugged his collar out a bit more, which earned him another annoyed stare from the grey-haired witch. Oliver swallowed furiously and choked down the urge to continue coughing. It was, admittedly, a hard time for everyone, and he didn't want to make her any more upset. Although, judging by the approaching bridge, Oliver only had to spend a few more minutes in her company.

Surely enough, five minutes later, the Hogwarts Express pulled in to the station at the school. Oliver stretched and yawned as he stumbled out of the traincar. The sun had risen above the trees, warming the cool morning air, but adding little comfort to the scene on the platform. Wizards and witches, in drab black and grey dress robes, were streaming off of the train and into each other's arms. Some were throwing themselves at one another in tight embraces, openly weeping, while others simply wandered about lost, too focused on their anguish and grief to look where they were going.

Sighing, Oliver ran his fingers through his brown hair nervously and clenched his broom, the only piece of luggage he had, under his arm. His robes fluttered softly in the breeze as he walked towards the carriages, a bright scarlet spot in the somber-colored crowd. He made sure to keep his head down, studying his leather shin-protectors intently as he waited for a free carriage to take him up to the castle. Oliver didn't want to meet the stares and disapproving glances he was certain of receiving. How was someone to explain their actions on a day like this, he thought to himself, and why should he have to explain himself at all.

Continuing to duck his head, Oliver boarded the nearest carriage, wedging himself between a pretty blonde-haired witch and a tired-looking man, whose flecks of grey hair at the temples seemed to contrast with his youthful face.

Suddenly, the pale witch beside him burst into tears. Oliver averted his eyes, in pretense that the approaching castle, which he had seen every school year, was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Shaking and sobbing, the woman, rather presumptuously in Oliver's opinion, leaned on his shoulder and cried.

Oliver looked at the witch awkwardly. Feeling a bit annoyed, he patted her on the back lightly, while steering her towards the young man with the salt and pepper hair. She opened her clear blue eyes and looked at Oliver imploringly.

"Uh...it's, err, It'll be okay," Oliver finally said as he inched slowly away from her, plastering himself to the side of the carriage. Apparently this was not what she wanted to hear, as she burst into a fresh round of tears, leaning away from Oliver this time. The young man, with a good amount of patience and grace, began to rub her back and murmur soothing words under his breath as the carriage continued to jaunt and bounce down the bumpy road.

At the sight of the emerging castle from the quickly evaporating mist, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. He slid a glance over at the pretty witch once more, who was now snuffling into the dark-haired man's sleeve. Her red-rimmed eyes were closed, but tears still trickled down her cheeks.

The carriage lurched as it made its final turn in the ascent towards the castle, following the winding path that led around the edge of the lake. Oliver pressed himself away from the witch, white knuckles gripping the side of the carriage. He hoped that the other occupants weren't offended, he just wasn't very good at dealing with other people's emotions.

As the carriage abruptly came to a halt near the gates to the expansive grounds, Oliver jumped out quickly, grasping his broom underneath his arm, and nearly bolted towards the lawn. A large array of chairs had been set up, peppering the grass in front of a small podium and a marble table. Keeping his head down in order to avoid seeing any schoolmates he knew, Oliver sought a seat in the row farthest away from the front. If he was getting stares for his attire now, at least he wouldn't have to see them.

Sighing, Oliver slumped down in his folding chair. It was nearly as comfortable as the hard-backed chair Professor McGonagall had conjured for him when he was called to her office for detention after a minor skirmish with Marcus Flint.

"Wood!?"

Oliver turned around from one of his many contortions to find a comfortable seating position to see one of his former team members, Katie Bell, walking towards him. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, much like the blonde witch on the carriage.

"Hi Katie," Oliver said simply, inwardly cursing. He really hadn't wanted to talk to anyone he knew. Katie sniffled as she sat down in the folding chair next to him, and wiped her nose with a handkerchief. Oliver regarded her wearily. He hoped that she wouldn't burst into tears like the girl in the carriage.

"How are you?" Katie asked, sniffling again and dabbing at her eyes. Oliver couldn't help but notice that it was with the same handkerchief she'd used to blow her nose.

"I'm okay," Oliver said, wracking his brain for something else appropriate to say. "Erm...so I guess you're feeling better, y'know, from the ugh...curse?" He kicked himself as soon as he'd said it.

Katie sniffed and nodded. "St. Mungo's is really good," she said simply.

"Yeah," Oliver slowly replied, shuffling his feet in the awkward silence. Katie blew her nose as Oliver looked up to see Katie's friend Leanne headed towards them. Unlike Katie, who was commendably stifling her urge to cry, Leanne was sobbing openly, her shoulders shaking as she rushed towards them. Oliver quickly stood.

"Erm...I've got to go," he said rapidly to Katie. She blinked up at him, confused.

"But it's about to start," she said, pointing at a squat but soberly-dressed wizard who was walking towards the podium. "Where are you going?"

"I've got to go to...to the...uh...loo!" Oliver exclaimed before gathering up his broom under his arm and running away. He slowed to a brisk walk when he was positive that he was out of Katie's sight, keeping his head down and weaving through the crowds of people headed down to the lawn.

As he reached the now deserted road, Oliver darted into the imposing shadow of the castle. He inhaled quickly and let out a long, slow breath. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his thumb against the smooth handle of his broomstick as he looked up into the cloudless sky.

"I should go back," he said aloud to himself, regarding his broomstick with newfound interest.

Oliver suddenly found himself taking off, and circling high above the Hogwarts castle. For the first time since yesterday, when he had received a tawny Hogwarts owl into his flat bringing the news of Dumbledore's death, Oliver relaxed. His scarlet quidditch robes flapped and fluttered in the wind as he lowered his broom to skim across the lake's glassy surface, flying farther and farther away from the weeping crowd. Following him over the lake was the soft echo of birdsong. Oliver felt a twinge in his chest as he heard its sorrowful tone.

Alighting softly on a grassy knoll at the edge of the lake, he ducked behind a nearby elm. Despite the overwhelming sense of grief that had settled on the school grounds, Oliver knew that security was tight. He didn't want to somehow be mistaken for a Death Eater crashing the funeral.

Oliver sighed and sank to the ground at the trunk of the tree, tugging at his tight collar. Unclasping his crimson cloak, he watched as it slid from his fingers, pooling at his feet and dappled with the spotty shade of the rustling leaves. It was a pristine summery day, but Oliver felt stifled, as if the heat and brightness were bearing down on him, pinning him to the trunk of the tree.

He gritted his teeth, and looking across the lake, he could no longer hear the low drone of the black-robed speaker. Instead, the beautiful but eerie lament, that he had heard when he had first mounted his broomstick, was echoing inside his head. It grew louder and louder until it rushed and roared in his ears.

He heard himself whimper, a noise Oliver hadn't emitted since he entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as he held his head in his hands and writhed on the ground from the effort of attempting to block the sound.

"You'll feel better if you just let it out."

Oliver heard a cool, but not unfriendly, female voice above him and he looked up to see a concerned Hogwarts witch leaning over him and offering her hand.

He shook his head and pulled himself up, taking time to study her face. The girl was undeniably beautiful, but what struck Oliver most was her eyes. Although the witch was smiling kindly at him, they seemed dull and lifeless. She didn't seem sad, but her eyes held a pain that compelled Oliver to stare at her for several minutes.

The girl turned away and blushed, looking out across the lake at the ongoing funeral with an accepting sort of sadness. As she brushed her dark hair back from her robes and tucked it behind her ear, Oliver noticed her Ravenclaw tie.

"I know you!" he blurted out. "You're that Ravenclaw seeker...erm...Cho Chang!"

The girl laughed softly without turning around.

"And I know you, Oliver Wood," she said, looking back at him and taking in his colored Gryffindor robes. "Even if you hadn't decided to dress like that."

Oliver at least had the good grace to blush and look sheepish. He still wasn't embarrassed about what he had worn to his former Headmaster's funeral, but there was no denying that he should have recognized her immediately. He paused for a moment, thinking of what to say. What did one say at a funeral. He couldn't very well start off with, 'Hey how's it going?'

As Oliver was mentally kicking himself for his social ineptitude, Cho smiled shyly and leaned up against the tree, as she looked back across the lake.

"Oh!" she remarked suddenly, and Oliver turned towards the funeral just in time to see what appeared to be Dumbledore's body, wrapped in a purple cloak, burst into flames. Oliver covered his ears in an attempt to block out the thunderous song. Cho merely looked at Oliver.

"As I said before, it will be better if you let it out," she said, turning back to watch what resembled a phoenix rising from the disappearing flames.

"It's a phoenix song," Cho explained. "It will only get worse until you express your emotions." Oliver regarded Cho with a disbelieving look before uncovering his ears. The song had died off.

"How do you...erm, yeah...I mean...Cedric. He was an amazing quidditch player." Oliver mentally kicked himself as the words stumbled from his mouth. Despite the fact that he had meant what he said wholeheartedly, he couldn't stop them from sounding superficial and fake.

"What I mean is," he trailed off when he looked into Cho's eyes.

"I know," she said coolly, looking out across the lake again. "It's okay. In a way..." She paused and turned to him with a sad but radiant smile. "It's not at all contrived. I know that you feel badly. So many people..." Here she stopped, choking back a soft sob and shaking her head.

Oliver felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. The song was impossibly loud to bear. Instead of reaching towards Cho to offer comfort, or condolences, or whatever he should have done to ease her pain, he crumpled at the foot of the tree sobbing. All of the emotion he had been bottling in from the moment he had curiously opened the Hogwarts wax seal on an envelope, tearing through the paper messily and leaving it in shreads on his welcome mat, rolled over him in waves.

Sniffling, he vainly tried to dry his eyes and nose with his cape. He felt a soft touch at his back and a salty tear drip onto his cheek that wasn't his own. Oliver looked up into Cho's glistening eyes and buried his head into her shoulder, grasping her tightly. Slowly, a laugh began to build inside him as he stared at the grass until it bubbled up and he broke away falling back against the elm and continuing to laugh. Cho rubbed at her eyes with her hands and looked at him quizzically.

"I don't even know you," he said, continuing to laugh. She shrugged and let out a soft chuckle.

"It all seems so pointless now." Oliver looked across the lake at the black-robed crowd shuffling around the lawn aimlessly. He pulled farther away from her, brushing at her wet shoulder with his leather gloves.

Cho reached up and grasped his hand in hers, softly rubbing her thumb across the buckle on his glove.

"It comes and goes."

Oliver sighed, somewhere between laughing and crying, but he chose to smile as he lead Cho away from the lake and back towards the funeral.