Chapter Text
“What’s she doing here?” Oliver nodded towards the stands.
Bushy, brown hair bent over parchment. A precariously placed stack of books teetered next to the first year. A yellow, metal-spiral notebook (of muggle origin) and small tube (like a self inking quill, one of the muggle borns in his year explained) fluttered next to the school work. Small head tilted up, the stares and questions magically drawing her attention.
“I said she could come,” Angelina Johnson shrugged, tossing the quaffle between her hands. “The poor thing doesn’t have friends, and she’s being tormented. Noticed her before practice. I saw no harm in it. I just put up a shield charm before we started in case of bludgers.”
Well, shite . Oliver couldn’t well argue against that logic, now could he? Even he noticed how the girl tended to keep to herself. It didn’t help she bossed everyone in sight, but really, being thrown into the deep end of the Magical World? Of course it wasn’t easy. He heaved a gusty sigh, shaking his head at his chaser.
“As long as she donnae make any trouble,” he grumbled with a scowl.
“Thanks Captain, my Captain,” the older girl saluted with a cheeky grin.
A booming shout called the team to attention and practice began in earnest. Wind whipped around him and through his hair, cleansing all the thoughts and troubles that plagued Oliver on land. This was his domain, and he’d be damned if he let Slytherin beat them. Again.
Half way through October, and the bushy little firstie still attended practices, rain or shine. Apparently, the poor girl still didn’t have any friends. If anything, her peers avoided her more assiduously than before. For some reason, it bugged the older boy. It really shouldn’t do, he knew. These things figured themselves out, anyways. Not to mention, the girl absorbed magic and knowledge like a bloody sponge. A clever one, that Hermione Granger. She managed to do her work and write in that odd, muggle notebook of her’s, come rain or shine.
An arithmancy project brought the Keeper to the library one rainy afternoon. Just as he rounded the corner of the current aisle, a small, shy voice by the table he left (Alicia and Angelina decided to be studious for once and joined him), caused him to pause.
“H-Hey Angie,” the younger girl looked up through her lashes. “Thank you for talking to Wood and letting me stay during practices. I-it means a lot to me.”
“Of course, Hermione,” his friend grinned, soft and kind, at the girl.
“Do you mind if I show you something?” Continued the unexpectedly shy girl.
Oliver frowned. Even as Angelina accepted, indulgent smile on her bow lips, the Quidditch Captain wondered. Hogwarts did a number on the normally brash, bossy firstie. Cinnamon eyes glanced around, almost afraid of others finding her. A bashful blush covered her little features as she reached for the spiral-bound notebook.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been keeping track best I can during practices,” the yellow notebook exchanged hands. A beat of silence. “It’s how everyone is doing and improving over the last month, you see?” Oliver blinked in surprise and a little bit of awe. “I’ve been keeping track of it and found some basic arithmancy books so I can have these graphs,” the girl pointed elsewhere, “automatically update as I put in more numbers here.”
“Hermione,” Angelina gasped, eyes darting between the notebook and the fidgeting firstie. “This is amazing! I thought you didn’t like quidditch all that much.”
“Oh no, I think it’s brilliant,” the girl’s features lit up. “Honestly, it’s quite amazing to watch. It’s just,” her expression shut down once more, one foot dragging back and forth along the stone floor. “It’s just that no one would believe me if I said so. I’m just stuck up, bossy, know-it-all Granger who is terrible at flying.” The pain in her voice struck a chord in the older boy, hand gripping the book in his grasp tighter.
A mirthless laugh left her lips. “I’m not pretty. Or sporty. Or popular. I’m really quite plain and no one likes me. I’m just book smart, really. But I thought if I could do this one thing, and help you, repay you for letting me get away from the others, even for just a little bit then well,” her voice shrank, smaller than Oliver ever heard it before. “Then maybe I’d belong here. Even if it’s just a little bit.”
His mossy green eyes caught the teary hazel eyes of Alicia Spinnett. Relief and a type of happiness washed through him, glad he let the girl stay all those weeks ago. In a flurry of robes and soft sobs, Angelina clutched the little girl to her, sweet nothings filling the air, promises of being there for her should the first year ever need it. He never knew.
“Angie, do you think Harry and Ron are really my friends?” the girl asked one day.
After her tearful confession and journal sharing, Hermione took to studying with the older lions in the library a couple times a week. Now early November, the firstie no longer stood alone for everything. While still mostly reviled by her peers, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley befriended the brainy girl. It confused him, really, watching the little band of three at meals. Just how they became friends eluded him.
“What do you mean, Sunshine?” Angie hummed, brushing the feather of her quill along her chin.
After their tearful talk, the girls started to call her their Little Sunshine. Oliver decided it fit Hermione, well, when she wasn’t in a mood anyway. The pleased blush answered any question of if the firstie in question liked the name herself. Her yellow notebook laid open in front of Oliver, who studiously ignored the girly conversation. Normally, the twins or Lee or one of his dorm mates attended these little study groups. Today, however, they all bailed. Of course it’s the day the girls decided to be, well, girls. Typical.
“Well, they only became friends with me because I covered for their rash actions,” Hermione frowned at her essay.
“The whole troll thing, yes?” Alicia added, glancing down the table. “Why were you by yourself, anyways?”
Troll thing? Oliver cast his mind back to Halloween. Hermione never turned up, causing the girls to worry. Just as they were about to accost a guilty looking Harry Potter, Quirrell burst into the hall. The whole thing felt far too dramatic, too theatrical, to be real. Yet, the Great Hall burst into a flurry of action. As a responsible fifth year, Oliver tried to keep the younger years going. Sometimes, it paid to be popular.
“Er, well,” an embarrassed flush covered the girl’s cheeks. “Ronald said something quite rude and hurtful after charms. With the day I had, and, well the last couple of months really, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I found the nearest loo and cried.”
A sympathetic grimace crossed his face. Talking about and sorting through emotions were not his forte, and being in the middle of girl talk about them made it worse. Deciding discretion the better part of valor, he busied himself and pretended to be so absorbed in Snape’s essay no one dared to bother him.
“Well, don’t tell anyone,” Alicia’s eyes dramatically glanced around before leaning down with an exaggerated whisper. “But in first year, I did the same thing.”
“What?!” Gasped the younger Gryffindor, scandalized. “No!”
Wait, green eyes blinked as they flicked up for a moment, intrigued. Spinnett did?
“Mhm,” the older girl continued. “You see, there was this terrible bully, Samantha Conrad from Hufflepuff-”
“A Puff?!” Oliver exclaimed.
Three eyebrows arched in unison. Each girl sported a different expression from amused to knowing to outright exasperated. Pink dusted his cheekbones. He ducked his head to avoid their clear amusement. This , Oliver bemoaned, this is why I avoid girl talk. It sucked you into its vortex of madness, it did.
“Just so you know, Ollie here actually adores gossip,” Angelina smirked at his pink face (making his impressive scowl rather less so).
“Makes sense,” Granger shrugged, an impish grin on her face. “My Dad and his mates are worse than Mum and her friends when they get together. It’s quite fun to give them all a drink and listen.”
Mental note: never drink around this little bird.
“As I was saying,” Spinnett rolled her eyes. “One day, all Conrad did was talk behind my back. How it wasn’t ladylike or proper to like sports so much.” Granger scrunched her nose. “My thoughts exactly. But still, I was alone and Angie, Katie, and I weren’t close yet. So, I went to the pitch, hid under the stands and had a good, long cry.”
“B-but that’s mad,” the younger Gryffindor stuttered. “Y-you’re popular and athletic a-and-”
“Yes?” The older girl raised a brow.
“Well, you’re pretty, too,” once more shy, Granger’s hands knotted together.
“And I imagine that’s why she said all those things,” Alicia sagely nodded.
“You see, Sunny-girl,” Angie chimed in. “The thing about bullies is that they pick on people who threaten them. Me and Ali here? We’re athletic and fit. That’s scary to the proper girls. You, though? You are wicked clever with a quick tongue. That terrifies everyone.”
They aren’t wrong, the older boy mentally shrugged.
“But going back to your original question, why would you think the boys aren’t really friends with you?” Angelina prompted.
“Harry is alright, I guess,” teeth nibbled on her lower lip in troubled thought. “He is just really shy and a bit awkward is all. Ronald, though, pretends I’m not there most of the time. Unless he needs help with his homework, of course. He can be cruel at times.”
“If you’d want my advice,” the older girl began.
Large, cinnamon eyes gazed up hopefully, watching Angelina gather her thoughts. Maybe we got this wrong, Oliver mused as he leaned back in his chair. She’s more like the team spaniel than the team Sunshine. I’m glad I’m not on that end of her puppy eyes. Flexing his neck back and forth, a series of satisfying pops followed.
“Keep Harry and tolerate Ron,” Angie summed up with a satisfied nod.
“Makes sense,” tisked Alicia. “Harry at least wants to be friends with you and takes your advice into consideration, yeah?” Brown curls bobbed. “He listens and likes your stories, right?” More nodding. “Then he’s interested in you as a person. Boys are weird about their mates-”
“Oi,” his head shot up to see three giggling witches.
It’s true, he internally cringed.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” an eyebrow raised towards Oliver’s pink ears. “Harry sounds like he’s interested in you as a friend, a person. Ronald could like you well enough, but not so much as to want to get to know you. So, you tolerate Ron-”
“But don’t coddle him, either,” Angelina added.
“That’s right! He can do his own work,” Alicia agreed, grinning at the girl. “It’s okay to be kinda-friends with some people, you know? You can be there if you want to, for when they want to talk, but you don’t need to do everything for them.”
“So, being different kinds of friends with each of them?” Anxious eyes flitted between the two girls.
“Exactly!”
A relieved smile bloomed across her face. Her eyes shone on each one of them for a brief moment. Then, a quiet thank you and back to work. Oliver fondly shook his head. The firstie certainly livened up their study sessions, that’s for sure.
Oliver leaned against the uncomfortable hospital bed. Perhaps paying better attention to his surroundings would help. A pained grimace bloomed across his face. His ribs smarted from a bludger. By now, he really ought to know better than to get distracted. Then again, Potter had a way of bringing chaos to games by the sheer power of his presence.
Confections and sweets teetered next to him, a precarious and sugary mound of get-well wishes and future indulgence. Luckily, his book rested nearest. Runes were dead useful, and Oliver was nothing if not pragmatic. Halfway through a particularly interesting passage, the pathetic moans of a student suffering some accident grabbed his attention.
“Now, now, Mr. Longbottom, just this way,” the matron instructed, crisp but kind. “Tell me, what happened.”
“Malfoy and Parkinson thought it’d be a lark to throw around several charms at once,” a prim, matter-of-fact voice answered instead of the weezing boy.
Soon, a litany of just who casted what spilled from the lass’ lips. Oliver’s intrigue and begrudging admiration rose as the girl recounted with surprising accuracy both the spells and her attempts at countering. Madam Pomfrey apparently agreed, bustling around the firstie and thanking the girl. In her busy, no-nonsense way, the matron shooed the witch away. An amused brow lifted, watching chocolate hair shake back and forth, exasperation rolling off her small frame in palpable waves.
Cinnamon eyes found his own mossy green. A sheepish grin answered her raised brow. Being caught watching never felt great. Yet, the good-natured roll of her eyes assured Oliver that the team’s little Sunshine didn’t mind over much. If anything, the small tilt of her lips found it more amusing than not. Her little legs deftly moved around the beds, her hand digging into the overfull satchel hanging off her shoulder.
“Before I forget,” she murmured, keeping her voice down. “I know you like to look at the journal when I hand it off to Angie and Ali.” A sheaf of parchment slipped free of its cluttered confines. “So, I took the liberty of putting together the game data from yesterday.”
As she prattled on, about how she couldn’t see super well that high. That the chasers seemed to be doing better, but he still didn’t notice things. A prim, swotty brow lift accompanied that observation. Still, the graphs and numbers presented themselves in a neat, orderly fashion -something he appreciated. Eyes darted along the straight lines of neat script, absorbing the facts and figures.
He quietly conversed with the girl for another quarter hour before she bid him farewell. A new respect dawned upon him. Thoughts whirled to life with the spark of a new idea.
Hey Ollie,
Don’t be mad at my kid brother or his friends when you hear what they’ve done. I promise they did it for the right reasons.
Charlie
Staring at the newly depleted Gryffindor hourglass, he damn well hoped the idiotic firsties did it for an excellent reason. The House avoided them like the plague. Potter and Longbottom fared well enough, it appeared, but Little Sunshine withdrew into her burrow. Unlike the other two, no one truly paid attention or cared on a normal day. Fear and anxiety defined her every action.
At first, their little Sunshine avoided the older Gryffindors. Green eyes rolled at the actions of his younger Housemates. For the first few days, Oliver understood. Gryffindor housed some rather impressive tempers. Yet, the haunted, skittish girl who twitched at every sound several days later melted his cool demeanor. Looking down the table, he noticed his chasers’ expressions.
Therefore, when he strolled through the Runes section, finding the four girls cloistered together didn’t surprise the Scot one bit. Judging by the flighty expression on her face, the third years just swarmed the poor firstie.
“H-Hi you guys,” her small voice drifted to the older boy. With a sigh, Oliver revealed himself, sitting at the table. “And Oliver.”
“You know we’re not really mad at you, right?” Angelina fussed, holding herself back from mothering the girl.
“Y-you aren’t?” She stuttered, cinnamon eyes glancing between them all.
“I mean, we were pretty upset at first,” Katie admitted, a sheepish grin on her face. “But really, you don’t break rules unless there’s reason to.”
“Not to mention,” Angie added, her hand tracing soothing circles on the young witch’s back. “We noticed some things.”
“Oh,” her soft, crestfallen whisper answered.
Her bushy head bowed in shame, as if sharing her burden signified weakness. Perhaps, in her mind, it showed just how inadequate her abilities were. Which, considering the lass only twelve at best, sounded remarkably silly and perhaps arrogant. Or lonely, a voice in his head murmured. Being self-sufficient so young originated from isolated, difficult times. He should know.
“So, won’t you tell us what happened,” Alicia cooed, one hand running up and down her arm.
“You promise?” Cinnamon eyes settled on each and every person at the table.
For a moment, they arrested Oliver, leaving no escape from her penetrating gaze. If she weren’t so young, and so inexperienced in the wizarding world as a whole, he wouldn’t be surprised if she used mind magic. Her intense gaze judged his soul, or so it felt. Satisfied with what she gleaned, Hermione nodded.
“Well, a few weeks ago, we went to visit Hagrid,” the girl nibbled her lower lip once more. “You see, apparently he won a dragon’s egg-“ Well, I’ll be damned, he swore “-from a shady pub wager and decided to hatch it in his own hut. Needless to say, it took us weeks to convince him to send it with Charlie Weasley to Romania.
“On the way back to the common room, we ran into a spot of bad luck,” pink suffused her cheeks. “Well, Neville and Harry and I were caught out by Draco Malfoy. He told Professor McGonagall and she gave all four of us detention.
“We thought that Hagrid would have us do something safe. Gross, probably, but safe,” small shoulder shrugged, the haunted mask falling upon her features once more. “Except, well Hagrid’s notion of ‘safe’ isn’t exactly normal, is it? So, he took us into the Forbidden Forest to find what’s been hunting the unicorns.”
“During the day?” Angie frowned, her brow furrowed in thought.
“Well, no.”
“Excuse me, but are ye sayin’ Hagrid dragged four firsties into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night?!” Oliver erupted (as loudly as reasonable in a library), barely noticing the others shrink away from his glower. “He’s not even armed!”
“He had a crossbow,” Hermione muttered, glancing through wary lashes. “And Fang.”
“So, a coward in the form of a large dog and no way to stop anything from taking vulnerable students,” he scoffed. “Brilliant.”
“It’s okay, Little Sunshine,” Alicia murmured, hugging the obviously terrified girl. “He just explodes when he’s upset.”
“Or excited,” Katie chimed in.
He blushed.
“Or scared,” Angie hummed, mischief in her eyes.
Heat travels towards his ears.
“Or surprised.”
He scowled, something fierce and impressive. He ignored that none of them were particularly affected, most likely due to the bright pink of his cheeks.
“Or embarrassed,” their Little Sunshine giggled, soft and shy.
“Fine, fine, I see how it is,” he grumbled, putting on a show. “Is this payback for how I’ve led this team?”
“Yes,” his chasers deadpanned together.
Delighted laughter, muffled behind a small hand, shook Hermione’s shoulders. At the very least, they could cheer up their unofficial analyst. Soon enough, the girls all fell back into the narrative. Apparently, Malfoy pranked Longbottom, prompting the large man to switch assignments. Harry and Hermione, the groundskeeper decided, worked well together and so would go with Fang. Needless to say, they found just what supped on the blood of unicorns.
Later that night, Oliver settled next to the fire in the common room, quill and ink on hand to pen a letter.
Charlie,
You were right…
Steam curled behind the scarlet engine as it chugged back to London. Oliver reflected on his fifth year. True, Hogwarts always felt thrilling and adventurous, but a different tenor hummed beneath the normal bustle of school. While he joked and talked with his mates, a part of his mind wandered to the team’s firsties.
Harry Potter attracted trouble. Anyone with two eyes and a functioning brain noticed it. Every odd thing revolved around him, in some way, shape, or form. Unsurprisingly, the youngest Weasley brother attached himself to mischief just like the rest of his family. Aside from Perce, he reflected. Despite their difference, the dumb jock and the up-tight prefect, the two boys were surprisingly close. And that’s how Oliver knew Ronald loved trouble making just as much as the twins, Just in a different way.
So, when a head of bushy, chocolate brown curls poked into his cabin, Oliver found himself unsurprised. Most of his mates knew the little witch by now, having spent some amount of time with her in the library over the course of the year. Her cheery chatter and giggles encouraged the more ridiculous antics, their own little ray of sunshine in the compartment.
Dainty hands waved goodbye, promises of next school year left in her wake. It took Oliver a week to admit he missed the Gryffindor team’s little Sunshine.