Chapter 9 - And So the Game Begins

How did we get here? Marcus asked himself as he looked at the woman sitting across from him and his family. I don't want to be here, he continued to think as the man standing behind the woman spoke. The man's name was Bernard Clemens and the woman was Oliver's birth mother, Siliva Wood.

“Seeing as young Oliver has almost reached eleven years of age, it has become his decision who he wants to stay with,” he told the small group of people.

“What?” Oliver, who head had been down, looked up at the statement. “I- I have to choose?” he asked, not sure if he was up for such a daunting task as Clemens' nodded his head.

Oliver turned his head towards Marcus, who had reached over and took his hand, which had been clenching tightly at his pants. Marcus slightly shook his head from side to side, eyes growing wide. “You can't go,” he whispered to him. “You're my brother, don't leave me alone,” he asked of him. He and Oliver had had a rough year, with Marcus going away to do his first year at Hogwarts and Chelsie still deep in her coma. They had kept in touch through owls, but Marcus couldn't wait for Oliver to join him at school where they could be together all the time.

Oliver then felt an hand on his shoulder and turned to his other side to see the only man he had ever called his father. “It's alright, whatever you choose, son,” he smiled sadly.

“Don't tell him that,” Gale told Alvin angrily. “Tell him to stay!”

“Oliver?” The man standing behind Siliva. “If you please.”

Oliver looked at all the people in the room before his eyes landed on Siliva. He then asked softly, “Why did you always leave me?”

Siliva leaned over the table. “I promise, Oliver, I'll never leave you alone again,” she looked at Alvin suspiciously for a moment. “Never.”

Oliver once again lowered his head as he closed his eyes. “I want to go home,” he spoke, causing Gale to smile. “I want to be with my mum,” he finished.

“What?” Marcus looked at the other in disbelief, he had never called Gale 'mum', not once, not even on accidence, for Oliver had only considered one woman his mother.

“Excuse me,” Gale rose from the table and hurriedly stepped out of the room.

“Gale!” Alvin went after her.

Siliva wasted no time as she walked to the other side of the table and embraced her son. Oliver threw his arms around his mother and buried his face into her shoulder. “You heard him, Clemens,” she told the man, her eyes closed her tears slide down her cheeks. “Contact my father, tell him that today is the day he meets his firstborn grandson.”

Marcus slowly stood up and took a step back, his face lost of all emotion as his eyes never the left the pair in front of him. His brow then slowly began to crease before he turned without a word and over to the door. He turned around one last time to see Oliver looking at him, but Oliver than dropped his gaze before closing his eyes and hold his mother tighter. Marcus then silently left the room to follow his parents.


It was September, the first day back at Hogwarts for Marcus as he sat with a few more second years at the Slytherin table. “Oi, Flint,” Jamie Harris, called to his friend from cross the table as the first years piled into the Great Hall.

“What?” Marcus responded not looking at him, as he talked to their House's Quidditch Captain about when tryouts were going to be that year. “So which ones your little brother?” he asked innocently.

Marcus felt his eye twitch. “I don't have a brother,” he told him.

“What are you talking about?” Jamie turned him body back towards the table and Marcus. “Last term you couldn't shut up about the little bugger.”

“Look,” Marcus finally turned his head towards his House mate and said slowly, “I. Don't. Have. A. Brother.”

“What was his name?” Jamie thought out loud. “I know it started with an 'O'. Octavian. . . no. Omar. . . no.”

“Jamie, shut it,” Marcus seethed.

Jamie ignored him. “Oldrich?” He shook his head, knowing that wasn't it.

“Harris, I'm warning you,” Marcus threaten as he clenched his school robes tightly.

Jamie smiled as he snapped his fingers before pointing his index at Marcus. “Oliver! That's it, right?” he asked.

Suddenly, Marcus rose from his seat and leaned across the table as he reached and grabbed a handful of Jamie's red hair. Jamie gasped in surprise before his head was slammed against glass plate on the table, shattering it into piece. “When I say 'shut up', you will shut your fat lip,” he told the boy before slamming his head against the table again. “I don't have a brother,” he repeated as he finally let go. He then straightened himself up as he adjusted his robes. “Never liked redheads anyway,” he murmured as he pushed back his own hair, which he finally cut to about ear length, after being mistaken for a girl the first month of his first year.

“My nose!” Jamie screamed as his hands came up to his face.

“What did I just tell you!” Marcus, losing his composure again, screamed as he tried to leaped over the table, but never reached Jamie as a few upperclassmen finally grabbed onto him before he could. “Let me go!” he fought against them.

A moment later, Professor Snape along with Madam Pomfrey came over and were surprised that it took a couple of seventh years to hold down such a small boy. “Take him to my office,” he ordered them and they obeyed, Marcus fussing all the way, as Snape followed behind them as Madam Pomfrey helped Jamie out of the Great Hall.

“Who in the world was that nut case?” asked a girl next to Oliver to another.

“I have no clue, but if they're all like that, I certainly don't want to be in that House,” the girl concluded as the other agreed. Oliver swallowed hard as he saw the murderous intent in his Marcus's eyes, they were directed towards him.



It was the next morning as Marcus stuffed his books for the day into his bookbag. He sighed. “What?” he asked as he looked up over to one of his roommates Terrence Higgs who was staring at him from his own bed.

“I was just wondering, is this going to be some kind of tradition?” he asked.

“What are you going on about?” He swung his bag over his shoulder.

“Last night at the welcome back dinner and last year with Jenkins,” Terrence explained.

“Harris got what he deserved,” he told him as they started their way out of their room so they could head to class. “And so did Jenkins.”

“Alright, I can understand Jenkins. He took things too far with the troll rumors and. . . well, come on, Flint, you got to admit with the hair, I thought you were a girl too, until you spoke.”

Marcus tilted his head in his direction, a sour look on his face. “Be glad you're my friend,” he told him.

Terrence laughed as he slapped his fellow Slytherin on the back. “Oh, believe me, I am.” He then cleared his throat, a bit nervous as he continued. “But I don't understand Harris. He was right, you know, about you going on about your brother.”

Marcus exhaled through his nose as tjey existed from the dungons to the crowed corridors of Hogwarts as other students bustled to and fro. “I don't have a brother. I think I made that clear last night.”

“Yeah, alright,” Terrence caved knowing he wasn't going to get anything out of the stubborn boy. “Hope the detentions were worth it.”

“They were,” Marcus then continued in a whisper, “and I would appreciate if we never brought up my brother.”

“What brother?” Terrence said with a smile that Marcus graciously returned. “So, you were talking to Jackson last night, what did he say about the tryouts?” he asked about their House's Quidditch Captain.

“Yeah, he said something about giving him a few weeks,” he stated. “Have you been practicing over the summer like I told you?”

“You know I have. I can't let you have all the glory on the-” Terrence stopped as he realized that Marcus wasn't by his side anymore. He turned around to see that Marcus was frozen in place, as if debating something. “Flint?” Terrence called out curiously. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” he told him as he took a step backwards. “I'll meet you in class, okay?”

Terrence, looked at his watch. “You're going to be late,” he warned. “It's the first day.” Marcus only told him to save him a seat before he turned around and made his way in the opposite direction.

Marcus walked quickly as the brown headed boy came into his view once again, who had only passed him and Terrence a moment ago, without even acknowledging him. How dare he? Marcus thought. He didn't like the fact that Oliver was pretending he didn't know him, like they hadn't shared a room for several years, like they had never sat at the same table to share a meal or like he had never gone back on his word to always be brothers.

Marcus placed his hand on Oliver's shoulder as he reached him. He then looked to the pair of first years whom he was walking with. “Beat it,” he demanded softly. Recognizing him as the boy who had to be dragged out of the Great Hall from last night, they made no hesitation as they scurried away.

Oliver gripped the strap of his bookbag tightly. “Morning, Mar-Mar,” his voice quivered as he spoke.

“As you know, the name is Flint. Understand that, Wood? That's the only name you're allowed to call me, if at all,” he made clear.

Oliver looked pained as he shook his head from side to side. He kne what this was about and so got right to the point. “She's my mum. What did you want me to do?”

“Stay!” Marcus admitted in a whisper as the halls began to clear. “I wanted you to stay.”

“I couldn't, she needed me,” Oliver argued. “You saw her, I would have broken her heart, if I didn't go with her.” Then without warning, Oliver found himself pressed hard up against a wall.

“What about my mum's heart, you selfish bastard?” Marcus asked angrily as he held him by the collar. “She cries herself to sleep over you. My father mourns you as if you have died." Marcus shook his head back back and forth. "Don't you get it? You were their son. You were my brother. We loved you, dammit!”

Oliver than smacked his hand way. “Yeah right. I thought I was just some boy your parents took pity on?” he countered.

Marcus head jerk back as he blinked rapidly, not expecting his own words to be thrown at him like that. “I was angry,” he stated.

“And I'm late for class,” Oliver told him before starting to walk away. “Oh and Flint,” he called after a moment. Marcus looked to him before Oliver dropped his bag to the floor, uncovering his new House patch. Oliver than smirked as he saw the expression on Marcus' face. “Yeah, that's right. I wonder who Chelsie will be more proud of when she wakes up? The brother who made her House or the brother who got detention his first night back?”

Marcus released a low growl as he watched Oliver walk away. He couldn't believe it, how in the world did Oliver make the same House as his sister when he hadn't?

Marcus had been so scared the night of his sorting as the hat was placed on his head. The Sorting Hat had told him, that he had an untapped ambition, and a remarkable will to please, but only on his own terms. Marcus remembered smiling as the hat mentioned and compared him to his sister, but frowned as it also said, though he was brave, he was also rash and didn't always think things through. It then told him he would do well in, as it yelled out, Slytherin.

Though he didn't show it as he hopped off the chair heading to the Slytherin table, he was devastated, what would Chelsie say? Her own brother in the rival House of Gryffindor? He remembered writing Oliver about it, who in turned, told him to look on the bright side, at least he didn't have to make nice with those Weasley boys everyday sitting in the same common room.

Marcus then finally made his way to his first class. He slipped in unnoticed and took a seat next to Terrence, who had saved a seat for him as he had asked. “You look beat, what's wrong?”

“I'm down by ten,” was all he said.

To Be Continued. . .

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