Harry Potter: The Green Arrow of Hogwarts (Book 1) (Fan Fiction) (REPOSTED)

Chapter 2: The Wizarding World

A month had passed since that tense night, and Oliver had come a long way in his recovery. It was now August, and the summer air was warm and filled with the faint hum of the bustling city of London. Though the physical scars on Oliver's body were still present, the boy was walking on his feet again, his crutches now only used occasionally. He had spent the last few weeks adjusting to life back at the manor, slowly but surely finding moments of peace, but the shadows of his past continued to linger, especially when the nightmares returned.

Today, he was standing near a store, waiting for his mother, Moira, who had gone inside to grab something for dinner. He stood by the entrance, gazing down the busy street as people hurried by, unaware of the storm inside him. He was still trying to find his place again in a world that felt like it had changed too much while he had been gone.

Suddenly, an old man with a long, silvery beard appeared at his side. His robes were dark, and his eyes twinkled with a strange light as he regarded Oliver with an odd, knowing smile.

"Hello, Oliver Queen," the man said, his voice warm yet tinged with something mysterious.

Oliver blinked in confusion, stepping back slightly as he studied the man. "Do I know you?" he asked, his gaze narrowing slightly.

The old man smiled gently, his blue eyes twinkling even more brightly now. "I don't believe you do. But you will. My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore."

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed, still uncertain. The name didn't ring any bells, but something about the man felt oddly familiar, as if he had been waiting for him somehow. "Professor Dumbledore?" Oliver repeated slowly, almost testing the name on his tongue.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, his tone filled with kindness, yet there was a depth to his voice that made Oliver feel like this wasn't just some chance meeting. "I've heard much about you, Oliver. It seems your story is far from over."

Oliver took a cautious step back, still not fully trusting this stranger who seemed to know so much about him. "I don't understand," he said, a little defensive now. "How do you know my name? And why are you talking to me?"

Dumbledore's smile never wavered, but there was a certain sadness in his eyes. "There are many things about you, Oliver, that are tied to a larger world. A world you've only just begun to understand. But, rest assured, the path ahead is one you must walk, and I am here to help guide you—should you choose to accept the truth of it."

Oliver stared at him, confusion clouding his mind. "What... What are you talking about?"

Before Dumbledore could answer, Oliver's mother, Moira, emerged from the store, her shopping bag in hand. She looked at Oliver, then at the old man, her expression wary. "Oliver, who's this?"

The man, still smiling, nodded politely to Moira. "Ah, Mrs. Queen, it's a pleasure to meet you as well. I was just having a brief conversation with your son. We were discussing matters of... importance."

Oliver glanced at his mother, his eyes filled with uncertainty. Moira's gaze flickered between Oliver and Dumbledore, then back to Oliver, as if trying to understand what was happening. She didn't look entirely comfortable, and she reached out to place a hand on Oliver's shoulder protectively.

"Is everything alright, Oliver?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Oliver turned back to Dumbledore, his mind racing. "I don't know," he said, his voice uncertain. "This man... he says he knows me. But I don't know him."

Dumbledore's eyes softened, and he nodded. "I understand this is overwhelming, young Oliver. But it is part of your journey—one that will lead you to truths you've yet to discover." He glanced at Moira, his expression still kind but serious. "I'm afraid there are things about your son's destiny that even he has yet to realize, Mrs. Queen."