The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

XCIV: Ludo Bagman

Oliver looked at Dexter, who looked impossibly grown up despite how Oliver had been picturing him for the past decade, and he felt sick to his stomach and his head ached and he didn't think he could bear any more of it.

"I have to take a rain check, Dex, I'm really sorry," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I swear I'll owl your kids though so they'll let up on you, alright? I have to go... I --" and he spotted somebody walking past in a Bulgaria replica jersey, Krum's name plastered across their back. "I have to go to the warm-ups... I train Krum, you know, he'll be looking for me."

Dexter looked sincerely disappointed, but when Oliver said that last bit, he said, "Whoa, you do? That's brilliant. I mean, I'm rooting Irish, of course, but that's brilliant you train Krum, I've heard he's really, really good!" He paused, "Are you still mates with Aiden Lynch? I've heard you were good mates with him, yeah?"

Oliver shook his head, "I mean, I know the bloke, of course, and he's alright, but --"

"That must be so cool, huh? Knowing everyone in Quidditch? You must be so happy. It's everything you ever wanted, isn't it? You're so lucky!"

Oliver felt even sicker and he had to will himself from looking in the direction that Wally had gone off in. He paused, then, "You - um - you sound like you keep in touch with Wally, yeah?"

Dexter said, "Oh yeah. Me and Wally reconnected about maybe five, six years ago now? Just after you lot broke it off, I guess." He paused, then his face sort of lit with realization and he murmured, "Oh. I - I'm sorry about -  about that, by the way. I remember reading what happened and -" he paused. "Anyway. I'm really sorry." He paused again, "I was really glad at seeing you both though, today."

Oliver wished he could say the same thing.

"Is today the first time you've talked to him since --?"

"Yeah."

Dexter said, "Well. I --" he clearly didn't know what to say.

"Dex?"

"Yeah?"

"What're your kids names?"

"I didn't name my kids after you like he did if that's what you're on about."

"No but what are they called?"

"Paul and Will," Dexter replied.

"I'll write them, tonight, after the match. I promise." Oliver hurried away, then, because he couldn't stay another moment with the way Dexter was looking at him, with something like disappointment in his eyes.

The only thing that could have made it worse for Oliver was if all this had taken place in front of the Fortescue's booth he knew already was on the far side of the field.

He bolted for his tent and raced inside, breathless, and sat himself down in one of the very nice couches. He looked around at all the photos and posters on the walls - memorabilia from years of quidditch matches and acquaintances with incredible players and getting to visit historic games and events all over the world. More than one game winning quaffle was boxed in display cases, a game-used firebolt from the 1986 World Cup hung on pegs. A game jersey signed by every player on the Australian team. Programs, lithographs, newspaper clippings...

But no family photos.

No pictures of children, no husbands, no wives, no brothers, sisters, cousins, parents...

He'd set himself into a sort of exile, hadn't he?

But hadn't he deserved it, too?

Oliver curled up and hugged his knees. Wally's voice echoed in his mind: "Oh you mean to say that you've finally learned how to tell what an accident is, have you?"