It was dark and he did not really understand what was going on; one minute there had been celebrations and the next screams, cries of joy suddenly morphing into cries of horror. Oliver Wood had been in his tent with his brother and father and they were celebrating, though not necessarily at the fact that Ireland had won, but more at the fact they had just watched the Quidditch world cup. The Quidditch World Cup, an event he had wanted to attend all his life. He ha pictured it in so many different ways but it had always ended happily. Never like this.
He was running with everyone, allowing himself to be dragged along by the crowd. He tried to look back to see his father or his brother, but he saw neither. All he saw was a dark sea of heads, a crowd of people all barging, stomping, making some form of noise as they progressed further away from the campsite. He quickly averted his gaze so that he was looking straight ahead, supposedly in the direction of his destination, though he had not got a clue where he was going, or rather, where he was being led.
After around ten seemingly endless minutes of being pushed along with the mass of Quidditch fans, Oliver broke away from the flow of people and slipped into the shelter of the forest, hoping that it would offer him some form of protection from the riot currently taking place. He stumbled through the woodland, tripping occasionally on the uneven ground, until he finally reached a clearing in the trees. He ran his hand through his hair, chewing on his lip as he thought about what to do next.
Upon deciding it would be safer to stay hidden, he took a few steps backwards into the wood and leaned against a tree so that it would be more difficult for someone to sneak up behind him. He stayed there for a few moments, not moving until a few minutes later when he heard a twig snap somewhere in front of him. He flinched and held his breath, trying not to make any sound as the sound of footsteps increased, both in pace and volume.
Through the darkness, Oliver managed to make out a figure running through the trees towards him and he knew that it would be in his best interests to move somewhere safer, but he could not bring himself to do so. He remained frozen to the spot until at last, Marcus Flint came into view with his wand outstretched and aiming directly at Oliver’s chest.
Oliver swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, knowing that he had to die one day anyway, even if that day had come sooner than he had expected. “Do it.” He said, acting a lot more confident than he felt. “Just get it over with.”
For the first time since the two had met, Oliver saw a hint of fear flicker through the Slytherin boy’s eyes as he gripped his wand a little tighter, his hand shaking slightly. “I-I’m going to.” He stuttered, though something about the tone of his voice showed that he had no intention of harming Oliver at all.
“Please..” Oliver said, his voice cracking. “Just get it over with..”
Marcus hesitated but then shook his head, slowly lowering his wand. “No.” he said before coughing to clear his throat. “No.. I’ll spare you this once.”
“But.. Won’t they kill you for it if they find out you let me get away?” he said. “Just take me now and you can live.. I’ll end up dead anyway.”
“Just shut up and get the hell out of here before I change my mind.” Marcus snapped, even though the trace of a smile was gracing his lips.
He bit his lip and nodded, holding Marcus’ gaze for a few more moments before scurrying off deeper into the woods, unable to stop himself from wondering why exactly someone who, for the previous several years of their lives, had made it clear that he wanted nothing more than for Oliver to be dead, would spare his life at a time like this.