Memories of Michael

When Katie Bell had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team in her second year, three years had seemed such an impassable age gap. Hell, it was more of a chasm than a gap. So, at the time she said nothing. Once she was in her third year, things just felt worse. Now he was sixteen. Any relationship they might have had the year before would have just been innocent fun, now it was serious. Again, she said nothing. Her third year was nothing short of a nightmare. Yes, it was the year they won the Quidditch cup, but it was also the year that he left Hogwarts. All year long she endeavoured to build up the courage to try and tell him how she felt, but it all collapsed around her every time she tried. For two years she told herself all the usual things; it would have never worked, he was too old for her, he probably didn't feel the same way. She never believed a word of it, but she told it to herself all the same.

It wasn't until the nightmarish encounter with the necklace that she saw Oliver Wood again. Towards the end of her stay in St. Mungo's, as she started to recover and could actually acknowledge her visitors, she found Oliver sitting in a chair by her bedside. He had been admitted to St. Mungo's after a rather nasty Quidditch accident. Their relationship thrived and blossomed from that point on. They both did their bit in the fight against Voldemort, as did so many others after the bitter loss of Albus Dumbledore. Just a few years after the death of the Dark Lord, Katie and Oliver were married. Suddenly three years wasn't so much of a gap anymore.

~|~

Several years later, Katie found herself loitering outside the living room door. Inside Oliver was most likely sitting in his usual chair, reading the Sports pages of the Daily Prophet. The simplest of things are always the hardest to do, which usually makes the harder things in life downright bloody impossible. All she had to do, fundamentally, was open the door, enter the room and tell her husband what she had to tell him. However, it was this part that made her entrance so much more difficult. After several reconsidered attempts to open the door, it dawned on her that sooner or later Oliver would want to leave the room. Upon doing so, he would find his wife standing there, looking distinctly like a lost sheep. Seeing as this was terribly undesirable, she finally took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped into the room.

Oliver glanced up from his paper, and would have returned to it had he not instantly noticed the expression on Katie's face. He was a wonderfully attentive husband. Placing the newspaper on the side table, he turned in his seat so that he could look at her properly. The look on her face was one he had never seen before. She was on the verge of a smile. A tear, the nature of which had not yet been determined, hung from her eye, unsure of what to do with itself. Her eyes themselves were fixed upon him, asking and telling so much simultaneously. In a moment of divine perception, Oliver knew exactly what she wanted to tell him. A smile erupted onto his face and he was up out of his seat before Katie had so much breathed a word. They embraced as most couples do in such situations, though to them it was as if they were the only people in the world that could feel so blessed. Their tear-soaked lips met in a rush of joyous kisses.

~|~

Upon hearing of their daughter-in-law's condition, Oliver's parents insisted that their house elf's daughter, Minsky, should go live with the soon-to-be parents. Minsky's life, on the whole, was a good one. She was still a very young and inexperienced house elf but she had been treated well and had never had so much as an unkind word from her masters. Even though it meant leaving her loving mother, Minsky was happy to go live with Katie and Oliver. She was also terribly eager to do so, as she had never looked after a baby before and was keen to learn. Like most house elves, the notion of clothes was the stuff of her darkest nightmares, so she wore a child's blanket in the fashion of a toga.

Their life together was relatively peaceful, until one morning someone in the house let out an almighty cry, causing Oliver to jump up from his seat and Minsky to nearly drop the priceless trophy she was polishing. They both rushed into the corridor to find Katie clutching the coat stand for support. Just as she hadn't had to say that she was pregnant all those months ago, she didn't need to say anything now to make her condition any clearer. While Minsky ran upstairs to get the pre-packed overnight bag, Oliver tried to help his wife into the car outside while simultaneously trying to keep his nerves from taking over. He managed to do this all the way to St. Mungo's until after the med-witch took Katie to the prep ward. With his wife no longer around, Oliver dropped his façade of composure and promptly collapsed into a nearby chair.

~|~

Michael Roderick Wood was born at about half past five in the afternoon, or what is considered in civilised society to be near enough dinnertime. At about half past ten on the same day, Angelina Johnson entered the Leaky Cauldron to find her old friend and team captain at the bar, surrounded by his mates. She had received the owl he had sent telling her about the new arrival and had decided to meet up with him. When Oliver saw her he turned from the bar and raised his glass in greeting.

"Hey Angelina! They ain't got me!" he shouted as he fell swiftly sideways onto the floor. It seemed that his friends, feeling that Oliver should properly celebrate becoming a father, had switched the bottle of water with Firewhiskey, so when Oliver thought he was watering down his drink, he was in fact just adding more Firewhiskey to it. It goes without saying that he was now well and truly sloshed. Shaking her head incredulously, Angelina took Oliver under the arm and heaved him up.

"What have you done with my legs?" he asked daftly.

"Nothing Oliver, they're both still there," she sighed. "Now let's get you on the Knight Bus and then home." She managed to get him out of the Leaky Cauldron and had to shift her hold on him in order to signal with her wand.

"Ang ...Angelina ...I want you to be Michael's godmother ...and so does Katie ...oh Merlin I love them ...so much ..."

"I'd be honoured," said Angelina, beaming with pride. "You daft, drunken daddy."

~|~

Michael's first months were a learning experience for all involved. Oliver and Katie, as first time parents, had been told all the usual horror stories of nappy changing and late night feedings, but like most first time parents, they didn't realise just how strenuous it could all be until they were doing it themselves. Minsky was just as inexperienced as her poor masters, though her house-elf nature led her to blame herself every time Michael just didn't want to sleep. On one such night, Minsky and Katie had just changed, fed and burped young Michael but nothing seemed to send him back to sleep. Just at the point where Minsky could no longer contain her frustrated, guilty tears, Katie gently took him from her, cradled him in her arms and began to sing softly,

"You're the catching of the Snitch,

You're the thrill of the chase,

You're the scoring of a goal,

And the wind on my face.

You're the joy I feel,

When the game is won,

It's you I fly for,

My love, my little one."

Barely half way through the song, Michael fell blissfully asleep. Katie placed her sleeping son carefully into his cot. After taking a moment to simply look at him, she turned to Minsky and placed her finger to her lips, indicating the door. They both tiptoed out, Katie closing the door behind her. Poor Minsky was still blaming herself for not being able to get Michael to sleep earlier.

"Minsky is very sorry, mistress Katie," Minsky whispered, tears still brimming in her eyes. "Minsky is still not knowing very much about babies, even though master Michael is now three months old but Minsky is trying her best and oh, now Minsky is prattling ..." She was interrupted by Katie's comforting hand.

"It's OK, Minsky. We're both still new to this. I won't have you blaming yourself every time Michael cries."

"But mistress is so good with master Michael. Just now when mistress was singing to master Michael ...Minsky would never have known that that would work ..." At this, Katie couldn't help but chuckle good naturedly.

"Minsky, I had no idea that it was going to work. It just came to me. Don't ask from where. We'll both get the hang of it before too long, don't you worry." Minsky looked up at her with her big, round eyes and smiled. Katie smiled back at her friend. "Come on Minsky, how about a cup of warm milk before we go back to sleep?"

"That is sounding very nice, mistress Katie." After making each other said warm beverages, they both retired to the living room to drink them. Katie sank into an armchair and took a gentle sip from her mug. Minsky perched herself on her three-legged stool by the fireplace and took a gulp from her modest-sized cup. It was then that Katie noticed a small pile of fabric by Minsky's stool that wasn't usually there during the day.

"Minsky, what's that you've got there?" Minsky looked around, unsure of what her mistress was referring to. When she suddenly realised what it was, she quickly scooped up the pile of material, embarrassed that she had left it out.

"Oh, it is nothing, mistress Katie ...just Minsky being silly ..."

"Why would it be silly?" Reluctantly, Minsky held up the fabric so that her mistress could see it. It was an oddly shaped, light blue ...well; Katie wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"Minsky has been making a baby suit for master Michael ...but Minsky only has time to make it at night because she has so much to do in the day. Minsky is still not very good at sewing and she cannot see very well in the dark, which is why master Michael's baby suit is a little strange ..."

"Yes ...for one thing, he doesn't have three arms," noted Katie.

"That one is supposed to be for his legs," whimpered Minsky. Tears were beginning to well in her eyes again. Katie quickly placed a comforting hand on the house elf's head.

"Not to worry, Minsky. From now on you can have as much time as you want during the day to work on it." Minsky dried her eyes with her blanket.

"That is very kind of mistress Katie ...if it is not too much trouble ..."

"Not at all, Minsky. Now come on, it's late. I think we could both do with some sleep."

~|~

The sunshine felt simply wonderful on young Michael's face. In the distance he could see huge, lush trees, bigger and greener than any tree he had ever seen before. Beyond them there was nothing but rich, golden fields as far as the eye could see. The gentle summer breeze swept through his hair. Closing his eyes in bliss, he rested his head on his mother's lap. Katie placed her hand on her four-year-old son's head and smoothed his hair back. It was the first time that Oliver and Katie had been able to take Michael out to the countryside for the day, what with their busy training schedules. Minsky had been given the day off to visit her mother, but she had managed to pack them a picnic before she left, for which Oliver was very grateful (the job would have fallen to him otherwise and that wasn't fair to him, his wife or his son).

"Daddy's going really high now," observed Michael. Katie looked over at her husband, who was indeed flying steadily higher on his broom. They had chosen an ideally secluded spot, perhaps the only spot in England where Oliver could have ridden his broom in broad daylight without being seen. It was as if the whole country had left them alone to just be with each other.

"Yes, he is," sighed Katie.

"I want to fly brooms one day, just like you and Daddy do." Katie smiled and leant down to kiss the top of Michael's head.

"I'm sure you will, sweetheart."

"And when I can fly a broom, I'll play Qui ...Qui ..."

"Quidditch, angel."

"Yes, that's what I'll play." While they had been talking, Oliver had flown to the very top of a nearby apple tree, skimmed the canopy and then swept around to cross the field and land just a few feet away from the blanket his family were sitting on. As he dismounted, Michael trotted over to meet him. Oliver knelt down to present him with something: a lush, beautifully green apple. Michael took it gratefully and bit into it. "That's really good!" he exclaimed in between bites.

"It's from the very top of the tree, where it gets the most sunlight. Things get better the higher you go, Mikey, you just have to want to get up there bad enough."

"You talk funny, Daddy," said Michael in his little voice. Laughing boisterously, Oliver scooped the little boy up and carried him back over to the blanket. They ate the delicious meal that Minsky had prepared for them while Michael told his parents all about what he wanted to do once he was a great Quidditch player. After they had eaten they played in the field, just running around and enjoying the vast space. After about half an hour Katie had to drop out of their games, as she was too tired. Nowadays she got tired very easily, but that was all it was. She was ...just tired.

~|~

Whereas the minds of most five-year-olds are a buzz of questions and imaginary adventures, only one thought ran through Michael's head as he sat on his bed, his legs dangling over the edge. He could hear Minsky busying herself in the next room. She was probably making sure everything was tidy for when Mummy came home. Michael knew that she would be home soon, because she had said so. The last time he had seen her; she had said to him very clearly, "I'll see you soon, my little one." He remembered it because she had said it so clearly. For a while now Mummy's voice had been getting quieter, as if it was hard for her to speak, but she had spoken to him very clearly ...the last time he saw her.

For a moment, Michael thought he could hear repressed sobs. Minsky often got upset when she thought she had done something naughty, even though Michael was always telling her that she never did anything naughty. He was about to go and tell her to stop being so silly when he heard the dull roar of the fireplace downstairs. His little face perking up, Michael jumped down from his bed, out onto the landing and down the stairs. He heard Minsky call after him but did not heed her. He was too happy to have Mummy home at last. Turning a corner and running into the living room, Michael found his father standing just a few feet from the fireplace. Michael stopped in his tracks and looked around the room for his mother. She wasn't there, but perhaps she was just behind Daddy, waiting to use the fireplace. She was taking her time, if she was. He looked up at his father, into his forlorn, fatigued eyes.

"Where's Mummy? Is she coming back today?" At these two little questions, Oliver dropped to his knees just in front of Michael and pulled him closer into a hug. He knew he had to try and hide his tears, but also knew how impossible that was. Once again he was at a complete loss as to how to do it. Just like the previous day, he had no idea how to tell his only son that his mother was never coming back.

~|~

The Woods had never been short of support. Minsky was always there, every day, never failing in her duties. Michael's godmother was a frequent visitor, doing her best to fill in for someone who could never truly be replaced. Michael established a close bond with Angelina, a relationship that ran deeper than most people's relationship with their godparents. However, at the tender age of ten, Michael felt that there was no one he could really talk to about the strange feelings and sensations he had been encountering for some time. He was never sure of how people would react. Would they be angry with him? Would they understand what he was going through? Could anyone truly understand what he was going through? As far as he was concerned, he was alone.

He took to staying in his room for long periods of time, much of it taken up with silent sobs into his pillow. He had had these feelings, these instincts as long as he could remember, but as he grew older he began to get the impression that the way he felt was wrong. Wrong on all counts. From a very young age, he had been burdened with a heavy sense of loss. This, coupled with his confusing dilemma, was why in his heart he knew everything would be better were his mother still there.

~|~

Michael continued to wave from the window of the carriage until the train turned and Platform 9 ¾ was no longer visible. He had been both excited to be on his way to Hogwarts and sad to leave his father, but he knew that Minsky would take more than good care of him. After closing the window, Michael turned to make his way down the train, looking for somewhere to sit. Not a single space or free seat presented itself to him. Just as he was approaching the last few compartments, he was nearly knocked over by a group of older girls heading for the sweet trolley. He noticed that the compartment that they had just left only had one dark-haired boy with glasses sitting in it. He looked about Michael's age. Sliding the door open, he poked his head in.

"Excuse me, but is it OK if I sit in here? I mean, will there still be space when they come back?" he asked politely.

"Of course," said the dark-haired boy, indicating the seat next to his. Michael heaved his trunk up onto the luggage rack and sat down. He offered the boy his hand.

"My name's Michael Wood." Taking Michael's hand in his own and shaking it, the boy smiled at him.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Sirius Potter."