In Ink and Inheritance (Book 1)

Chapter 2 - The Binding Thread

Oliver Wood's POV

The letter arrived wrapped in deep blue parchment - the color of family magic.

I'd been up early, like always, sharpening quills for practice and sketching play rotations for the Ravenclaw match. The owl landed not at my breakfast plate, but beside me on the couch in the common room. That alone told me it wasn't just fan mail from some Quidditch-obsessed second year.

No, this was different. Heavy. Intentional.

I recognized the wax seal immediately.

The Wood family crest, pressed in gold. A tall oak tree with runes woven into the roots. But what made my stomach flip was the second crest, smaller, stamped just beneath ours.

A stag.

The Potters.

I broke the seal, expecting a formality. A vault update. A family history pamphlet Gran had dug up just to make my eyes roll.

Instead, I got this:

*Let it be known that on the tenth day of Samhain, in the year 1852, the House of Potter and the House of Wood did enter into sacred agreement, sealed by wand and blood.

A betrothal, to be honored by the eldest unmarried heirs of both lines within seven generations.

Upon mutual eligibility, the contract shall awaken. Its terms are binding by oath and ancient rite. Interference or refusal will invoke magical consequence.

This bond is now active.*

I read it twice. Three times. My pulse pounded like I'd just flown a full match in a storm.

There was a name at the bottom of the scroll, written in older ink.

Harriet Lily Potter.

Of course.

The last Potter. My teammate. The girl with solemn green eyes and a spine of iron under all that quiet grace.

Fate was a strange, cruel, beautiful thing.

It could've been anyone. But it was her.

I leaned back into the couch, the fire crackling beside me. Gran's letter had been attached, but shorter than usual:

*It's come into effect. Do not make light of this. Magic that old carries a will of its own.

Respect it. Respect her.

- Gran*

Respect her. As if I could do anything else.

I thought of Harriet at practice - the way she moved, not just on a broom, but through the world. Thoughtful. Alert. Stronger than anyone realized. She wasn't loud like Angelina or mischievous like the twins. She didn't demand attention. She just was.

And now... she was mine?

No. Not yet. Not really.

But the magic thought so.

I folded the parchment and tucked it away in my trunk, away from curious eyes. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with this information. Tell her? Ignore it and hope she got the same letter? Wait for a goblin to show up and drag us to the altar?

I didn't have long to wait.

-

It was snowing again by the time practice ended. Harriet stayed behind, like she always did, her braid falling over one shoulder as she cleaned the mud off her boots with a flick of her wand. I watched her from a distance, unsure if I should say anything - if she knew.

She caught me staring. I looked away.

Later that evening, I saw her again in the common room. She was curled up in the corner chair, still in her uniform, a book of family lineages open in her lap. The firelight painted gold across her cheeks, softening her already delicate features. I think I was halfway to her before I realized I'd stood up.

But then something strange happened.

An owl tapped at the window. A Gringotts owl.

Harriet looked up, blinking as she stood to let it in.

I froze, watching from the stairs.

The bird landed on her shoulder, elegant and pale, and dropped a single scroll into her hand - parchment thick and crisp, edged in gold.

Her fingers hesitated on the seal. I recognized the symbol from across the room.

The Potters.

She broke it open. Read the first few lines. Her body stilled.

Then she looked up, and our eyes locked across the common room.

There was something in her expression I'd never seen before - not fear, not confusion.

Recognition.

Like the magic had whispered its truth to both of us at the same time.

And now there was no turning back.