Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ambition. Being considered great. Being known as one of the best. 

Percy, even at the age of eleven, craved this. He could often walk around the house, failing to be noticed by his parents in the way he had hoped. He struggled to earn the approval he so desperately wanted. He swore from the moment he stepped inside Hogwarts, he would no longer be considered the quiet, good-for-nothing boy he was always viewed as—he would be considered the best in his year.

His mother loved him, and she always made sure to show him that she did. But there was something so degrading about being stared at pitifully. Like there was something wrong with him. No matter what, he would be viewed as the black sheep. The small, weak, strange one. While he admired his mother, there was nothing worse than feeling as though her love rooted from pity.

On the other hand, his father never tried to hide his pity. He could barely look at Percy, and he definitely struggled to look at Percy the same way he gazed at Bill with pride, and Charlie, who was rather gifted in Quidditch. He overheard his parents talking about him, a few weeks after the arrival of his letter—they doubted that he would be sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of the family. Molly attempted to play it off as though she didn’t care, but he knew it was important to her. 

Bill was their pride and joy, really. He was handsome, charming, and elegant. He was intelligent with a mind that Percy couldn’t compete with in his parents’ eyes. Sometimes, Percy believed that they should have given up after Bill and Charlie. Then, they wouldn’t have to live with the burden of Percy’s depressing existence. 

Charlie was the one thing that was really Percy’s. Siblings were the connection that no one could ever intervene with, especially him and Charlie. From the moment Percy received his letter, Charlie was the one who showed the most pride. He gleamed with joy, wrapping his arms around Percy, bringing him into a hug. The stars and the heavens and his parents and siblings were Ginny’s protectors, but Charlie was his. He spoke these words to him before.

“Everybody looks out for Ginny, Perce. Mum, dad, Bill, Fred, George, and Ron—but I’ll look out for you.” 

Charlie was the one thing that made living at the Burrow bearable. With Fred and George’s discovery of pranks, it was a constant struggle. He was watching out for the buckets of water placed on the top of doors, the dishwashing soap they placed in the entrance of door ways, and constantly sending their siblings on a wild goose chase whenever they were looking for something—Ron was often the victim of those types. 

“You really need to watch out, Ron,” Percy frowned, dropping his book. He decided to read all the books he needed for Hogwarts before he arrived there. Finally, he made it to A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot , which was a fascinating read to him. 

Ron laid with his back flat on the tiled floor, attempting to lift himself off the ground, but continued to slip. Percy shook his head, grabbing a towel and throwing it at Ron. “Thanks, Perce.”

“No problem,” he smiled pitifully. He pushed his back against the chair, lifting it onto its two back legs as he found his very defeated little brother. “Maybe go into every room with a towel from now on.”

“They’d still find a way to get me,” Ron grunted, reaching for his back that was damp with dishwashing soap. He decided against changing as he sat across from Percy, staring. “I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts. Well actually, mum reckons I might be a squib. Heard her talking about it to dad.”

They really needed to stop talking about them out in the open. 

“You are not a squib, Ron,” Percy informed him matter-of-factly, closing his book as he placed a mark inside it to know where he was up to. Ron lifted his shoulders, a resentful scowl creeping onto his face. It was awfully early to assume that Ron, a seven year old boy, had a chance of being a squib. He sighed. “I always thought I would be one”

“You did?” Ron gaped, blinking slowly. 

“Yeah,” he replied. 

“But you’re wicked smart,” he said. He gestured around the house, staring outside the window to find Bill, Charlie, Fred and George playing their own game of Quidditch that Ron and Ginny weren’t included in quite yet. “The smartest out of all of us.” 

“Well, thanks Ron,” Percy smiled. He had never thought of himself like that. He always thought that title could be credited to Bill. But Bill was the handsome one. Charlie was the best at Quidditch. Percy always wanted something for himself and Ron was the one who gave it to him, then. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Ron said, interrupting the silence between them. “Always do when one of you leave.”

“At least it will be peaceful for you when Fred and George go,” Percy offered as some sort of consolation. Ron lifted his shoulders. But when Fred and George leave, Ron will only have Ginny. Ron was the last boy before Ginny, and his parents never allow him to forget, even if it was unintentional. So when it’s their turn, Ron will live with a constant reminder that he was their parents’ final disappointment before they got what they so desperately wanted. 

As middle children, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron, they all had their own coping mechanism. Fred and George caused trouble around the house, because they would prefer to be scolded than be forgotten, or placed in the other’s shadow, which was a regular occurrence between them. Charlie attempted to be the best at something that Bill could never compete with. Percy used his brain, and Ron hadn’t figured it out yet. But the three of them, Charlie, Percy, and Ron all had each other to forget about their parents’ ignorance.

The resentment Percy felt toward Ginny was ugly. She was only six, but no one could ever compete with the admiration their parents had toward her. She was their sweet little girl—the one they always wanted. The remainder of them were just the battles they faced before they finally got what they desired. 

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. His eyes searched the room, lighting up when he found another thing to focus on. He left the room. Well, he was only seven. 

*

The morning of 1st of September was a wild one. Molly ran around the house, attempting to get everything in order, and ready to send yet another child to Hogwarts. They each had their trolleys ready. Ron sat on top of Percy’s, while Ginny was on Bill’s. Fred and George insisted on walking themselves that day, but Percy was sure they offered to do so with an ulterior motive to pull something.

His mother brought his head close, pressing a kiss against it as proud tears streamed down her face. Percy stood straight with pride, thrilled that his mother finally treated with the attention he always wanted. 

The train whistled loudly, steam blowing out the front, and travelling through the platform. Parents said their goodbyes to their young children that were on their way to Hogwarts for the very first time. In the distance, he saw a young boy around his age. His hair was dirty blonde, covering his forehead, and slightly overgrown over his eyes. His parents held him close, unwilling to let him go. He tried to break free out of their clutches, but was unable to do so. 

The boy turned his head, trying to rescue himself from being suffocated. Percy froze as their eyes locked on each other, embarrassed that he was caught staring at him. The boy arched an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lip curving into a smirk. Percy quickly rushed away, finding Charlie, who was lifting his trunk onto the train. 

Charlie was in fourth year. He promised to stick by his side throughout the train ride—for as long as he could. And like every promise Charlie ever made, he did exactly that. They found an empty carriage. Charlie grabbed his trunk, throwing above his head with a grunt. Percy cringed. He didn’t realise how many books he had packed until he felt how heavy the trunk was. 

Charlie dropped back on the seat with a loud sigh. He placed his back against the window, lifting his feet to spread them over the seat. He glanced at Percy, who already had his face buried inside a book. He lifted his eyes every couple of minutes, hoping that none of Charlie’s friends were willing to sit with them. He counted on the fact that nobody would want to be around his annoying little brother.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t. A boy slid the door open with another one behind him. He leaned his shoulder onto the doorframe, staring at Charlie. Percy assumed it was one of his friends, but the glare that Charlie met the boy with told him otherwise. He looked away, determined to return back to reading, and escape this awfully awkward moment. 

The boy had a hair colour so dark at first glance that it looked black. As the train took off, sun rays shot through the window, showing his hair as a dark brown. He wore a black eyeliner circling his eyes, and had black polish painted over his nails. His lips curved into a smile, showing his teeth that resembled fangs.. 

“Another Weasley?” The boy said, pointing between them. Charlie nodded, but stared back at the piece of crumbled paper in the air that he was levitating. “Jesus, how many are there?” 

“Seven,” he grunted, and with the flick of his wand, he threw the ball of paper into the boy’s face. Percy’s eyes widened in fear. Rather than the aggressive, hostile actions he expected to follow, the boy just laughed. Charlie glanced at Percy with annoyance. “This is Myron Wagtail. He’s in Gryffindor, too.”

“Right,” Percy replied carelessly. He didn’t care for anybody in his own year. He was struggling to care any more for people in Charlie’s. 

“Oh, how cute?” Myron smiled, looking back over to Charlie. “He’s like a mini Charlie Weasley.” 

“Get lost, Myron,” Charlie sighed. 

“If you say so,” he winked as he left the carriage, leaving the door open. Charlie and Percy shared a look between them, both of them telling each other to close it, and both unwilling to do so. Charlie rolled his eyes, lifting himself from his seat, as he slowly shut the door. 

“Cannot stand that guy,” Charlie muttered, popping his head outside the door. Percy’s eyebrows furrowed. Myron clearly didn’t hate him. “If he ever talks to you, just avoid him.”

“I doubt he would,” Percy mumbled, bringing his knees close to his chest with a sigh. “I have that type of nature that repels people.”

Charlie smiled. “Sometimes I wish I did,” he said. “So people like Myron would leave me alone.” There was a pause as Charlie twisted his body to face Percy. “But Perce, you should try to at least make one friend. It’ll make your first weeks here a lot easier.” 

“Did you make any?” Percy asked.

“Yes, this girl, Nymphadora Tonks and Stan Shunpike,” he explained. “They’re both in Hufflepuff.”

“And where are they, now?” 

“I told them that I’m gonna sit with you for the train ride and they were okay with that,” he smiled. “Seriously though, try to make some friends? I hear the first years are small this year. As in there’s not many of you, so it should be fairly easy.”

The past few years, the amount of first years attending Hogwarts were getting slightly smaller. Percy was born during the war, so students born in 1970 to 1981 were rather small compared to the remainder of the other years. He was relieved knowing this—less people to get to know and to put up with was a blessing in its own way. 

“Okay, I’ll try,” and because he told Charlie he would do this, he knew he would really have to try. He felt a bit of relief, knowing that he was an annoyingly unlikeable person and that many people wouldn’t want to be his friend. But anxious, because even if Charlie reassured him that he could never, Percy was afraid of disappointing him.

“Hello,” the door slid open again, and he was met with another two boys around his own age this time. They had their trunks behind them. It was the boy from the platform. Percy looked at Charlie. Charlie raised his eyebrows with excitement, tilting his head to tell him this was a perfect time. “Can we sit? Everywhere else was full.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to kick off a friendship by being a last resort, so he shrugged his shoulders. “Of course you can,” Charlie, then, replied. The boy’s face lit up, and he pushed his trunk inside with his knee. He glanced back, sliding the other boy’s trunk. The other boy was rather smaller. His skin was tan, and his hair was cut into short curls with his edges lined up. He smiled, sitting opposite of Percy. “So what are your names?” Charlie asked for Percy. 

“I’m Oliver Wood,” the boy with the dirty blonde hair replied with a grin, speaking in a strong Scottish accent. Percy almost had trouble decoding his words. He looked over to the other boy who remained silent. Maybe Percy could be friends with him. “This is Peter Jones. And you are?” 

“I’m Charlie Weasley, I’m in my fourth year,” he replied. “And this is my little brother, Percy. He’s in his first year, too.”

“Hiya Percy!” Oliver smiled. Percy glanced at him, rolling his eyes. Charlie glared at him, tightly squeezing his jaw. 

“Hello,” he mumbled. 

“Very friendly,” Oliver commented. Percy turned to Charlie. Who did this kid think he was? 

“Oh good, that was exactly my goal,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I can tell,” he nodded. He straightened as his attention went away from Percy. “What house are you in?” He asked Charlie.

“I’m in Gryffindor,” he answered. “And the Quidditch captain.”

Oliver gasped suddenly, both Peter and Percy jumped. “You’re the Quidditch captain?” He stared adoringly. He almost looked like he was about to jump at him and kiss him. “Big fan. I hope to make it onto the team next year,” he explained, and pulled out a binder that was identical to one Percy made just before attending Hogwarts. 

“Where did you get that?” Percy asked quickly, his eyes wide in fear. 

“Er, I made it?”

“No, I did.”

“Actually,” he flicked open the hard cover, and raised it to Percy’s eyeline. He pointed to big, block letters. Oliver Wood. “It’s mine. Do you have a binder, too?”

“Yeah,” Percy nodded. “My plans for the next ten years.”

“Mine is only for the next five years,” Oliver said, blushing in embarrassment. 

“Both are strange,” Peter finally said his first words. His voice sounded as though it was about to fade away any second, croaky and low. 

“It is not!” Percy and Oliver said in unison. Their eyes immediately found each other. Oliver grinned at him, and Percy looked away as his cheeks grew warm. Oliver sighed, flicking through the pages. “This year, I will be training at least three times a week. Then, next year, I’m gonna try out as the Keeper, same schedule of training, but I left some a bit more open for when I make it onto the team.”

“How do you know you’ll make it?” Percy said, immediately regretting it as Oliver turned to him again with an offended expression on his face and a hand spread his heart dramatically.

“Because I will, Weasley!” 

The rest of the train ride was Oliver ranting about his plans for the next five years. The majority of it was mainly focused on his Quidditch plans, and how he aimed to be the captain by his fifth year. If not, he said he would kill himself, which was awfully dramatic to Percy. Especially about something that was just a sport. 

He didn’t need to take any time to decide how he felt about Oliver. In the hours they spent on the train together, and how the entire time, his ears never felt a single moment of peace, he made the decision that he disliked him. He prayed that he would get sorted into a different house than Oliver, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the boy’s unfortunate honesty and inability to stay quiet for more than fifteen seconds. 

*

Unfortunately, Percy was cursed with a last name that was so close to the end of the alphabet. Only five students were left, and he happened to be one of them, along with Oliver Wood, and another girl that he hadn’t seen before. From the first glance, he noticed her scar. It was hard to miss—a big slash across her face. As they were first making their way through the Great Hall, he noticed the whispers and the people pointing at her. And for once, he was glad that he was a Weasley, meaning that he was nothing new to these people.

Soon, that disappeared as he awaited his own turn on the stool that would determine his entire future and fate. He imagined the chance of being sorted into Slytherin that seemed like an awfully high possibility. He imagined what his parents would look like; the disappointment in their eyes at their son being an outcast yet again. He attempted to shove that thought away. If the house could detect his hate for Slytherin, maybe it would decide against it. 

Peter Jones was sorted into Gryffindor. The hat didn’t even have to touch his head before sorting him into Gryffindor. He was the only boy sorted into Gryffindor so far, and the only girl was Ivy Violet. The hat pondered on her for close to a minute before ultimately placing her in Gryffindor.

Slytherin seemed to be the most popular house, having ten first years, which made  up a third of their year. Marcus Flint, Elton Ivory, and Terrence Higgs were the only boys that he could remember the names of. Maybe because in the few moments he looked at them, he knew they would be sorted into Slytherin. The only girl he could remember was Gemma Farley, which came as an extraordinary surprise to him. 

Gabriel Truman and Audrey Scamander belonged in Hufflepuff. He remembered Audrey, because of her surname. Her grandfather was Newt Scamander, the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them—that was another book Percy really enjoyed. 

And finally Ravenclaw, only two names stuck with him, and that was Robert Hilliard and Penelope Clearwater. 

“Weasley, Percy!” McGonagall, the professor who led them into the hall, called with the scroll of names in one hand and the Sorting Hat in her other. She immediately found him, but he wasn’t a difficult person to find. All she had to do was look for the blazing, red hair and she would have her man. She softly shook the hat as he hesitated. He glanced back at Charlie who lifted his hands up, leaving his thumbs up in encouragement. 

He reluctantly slid his feet across the floor. Oliver placed his hand on Percy’s shoulder, whispering good luck. He nodded his head, feeling a sudden determination to put an end to his never ending worries and thoughts. He still prayed to be in a different house than Oliver, but had an awful feeling Oliver was going to be in Gryffindor. 

He pushed himself onto the stool, resting his feet on the step. He looked above his head, closing his eyes as he couldn’t bear to feel the stares on him at that moment. Or the disappointment from his brothers if he was not sorted into Gryffindor. Or the shocked faces. Or the judgemental glares he would feel if he was sorted into Gryffindor. The hat was placed onto his head gently. He felt McGonagall take a step back as the hat abruptly began talking. 

“Another Weasley…” The hat began, humming and thinking aloud. 

“Please not Slytherin,” he whispered, crossing his fingers under his legs. 

“Not Slytherin, hm?” The hat replied. Percy jumped at the sound of the hat acknowledging him. “No, you’re not destined for Slytherin.” Percy sighed in relief. “Gryffindor!” He jumped out of the seat, handing the hand back to McGonagall before she could take it off his head. He rushed over to the table, being welcomed by Charlie who put his arm around him. Bill was smiling.  

“See, I told you everything would be fine,” Charlie told him, gripping softly onto his shoulder, shaking him. 

“Congratulations, Percy,” Myron leaned over. Charlie blinked slowly, turning to him. Percy couldn’t figure out why Charlie despised that boy so much. He seemed nice enough, and was quiet enough to be considered tolerable. 

“Williams, Eleanor!” The girl who was covered in scars dropped her head to the floor as she dragged her feet. She appeared to be just as anxious as he was, and as she sat down, she mirrored his behaviour. But barely any people had been looking at him—Everyone was staring at her, continuing their whispers. Percy wondered if she had done something to receive all of this attention.

Minutes passed and the hat still hadn’t said anything. People were growing restless. Percy stared, focusing on the hat’s mouth as he attempted to make out his words. His eyes narrowed. I can only sort you into a house if you let me in. But she didn’t move. Her eyes stayed shut, and her body looked like a statue, completely frozen as she awaited her own destiny. 

The Great Hall grew tense as everybody waited, listening to any comment the hat had made. But it was as though it intentionally lowered its voice. Percy glanced at Charlie, and leaned closer. “Has this ever happened?” 

“I’m sure it has, but not while I’ve been here,” Charlie whispered back. “I dunno. It must be stumped.”

He jerked his head back to the hat and the girl. “Very well, Gryffindor!” His face screwed up. That was something that stuck with him. Why did it take so long? And why, as soon as she opened her eyes, did it announce that she was sorted into Gryffindor? Strange it was. She made her way over the table, careful to not catch anybody’s eye. Ivy Violet smiled at her, but Eleanor stared at the table. 

“Wood, Oliver!” McGongall called out. He was the last one. It all came down to this, really. Would Percy live his days in peace? Or would he be stuck with Oliver Wood for the next seven years of his life? Oh, how he hoped it was the first one. 

The Sorting Hat was quick to decide. “Gryffindor!” It called out. Percy’s heart dropped to his stomach as the words echoed through his ears. Oliver ran over to the table, almost skipping. He really seemed proud of himself. 

Oliver dropped beside Percy, his shoulder bumping against his. He blinked slowly in annoyance, shuffling his body closer to Charlie’s. He knew this boy for a few hours and hated him. 

“Isn’t it cool?” Oliver leaned forward, his eyes bouncing between him and Peter. “We’re the only guys in Gryffindor and we’re all together!” 

Not cool. It was horrible. Why he had been cursed with such terrible luck was beyond him. 

*

Percy was right all along. Oliver Wood was the most insufferable boy he had ever met in his life. Percy shut the curtains around his bed, and still could not sleep. Oliver and Peter spoke the entire night. Despite Percy choosing the bed on the opposite side from the room, he was still tortured with Oliver’s constant chatter. 

The following morning, Percy was woken up by loud music playing in their room rather than the alarm he had set the night before on his clock. His eyes jolted open as he shot up, startled by the loudness and suddenness of the music. He knew who the culprit was, because who else would it be? It was Oliver Wood, and his abnormally  large ego, and small awareness for the people around him. 

He swung his curtain open with a glare. Oliver smiled when he saw him. “What is wrong with you?” Percy grunted as he turned his body with his legs dangling off the bed. “What is with the loud music?” 

“Prepping,” Oliver replied shortly, reaching under his bed for his stuff. He pulled out his broom. 

“Prepping for what?” Percy asked despite knowing. For his unfortunately long train ride over, he never stopped hearing about Oliver and his passion for Quidditch. Percy hoped that he was a terrible player. At least then, he would feel a slight bit of satisfaction. 

“I’m going down to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of training,” Oliver explained, dropping his broomstick onto the bed. Peter groaned, covering his ears with his pillow. Percy knew what he was feeling, because he felt it too. 

“What’s the point?” Percy said. “First and second years hardly ever make it. And my brother is trying to make the best team.”

“Well, if I don’t train, I’ll have no chance at all.”

“Even if you do train, I doubt you will be good enough,” Percy told him. He didn’t care about how mean this might be. He just cared about being woken up by something that wasn’t his own alarm clock, and cared about other people around him having some sort of consideration for others, which Oliver failed in both departments. 

“That’s rude,” Oliver murmured. 

“Well, the truth hurts, does it not, Wood?” Percy sighed, lifting himself from the bed. 

“You haven’t even seen me play,” he followed Percy through the dormitory. Percy threw his head back in frustration, squeezing his hands into fists. 

“And probably never will,” he lifted his shoulders with a cold smirk. 

“Well, if you’re so perfect, what are you good at?” 

Percy thought for a moment. He was smart, but that would be a humiliating defence in the eyes of Oliver. He turned around. “Let’s just say that I do not prioritise brawns over brains.”

“Oh,” Oliver hummed, a cheeky grin growing on his face. Percy didn’t like that. “So, basically, you’re a nerd.”

Percy wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction. “A nerd that is probably better than you at everything,” he shrugged. Oliver folded his arms with a glare. One night sharing a room together and they were both already sick of each other. 

“Name one thing,” Oliver added, his shoulders straightened as a wave of confidence rushed through his body. “And we’ll do it, and see who’s better.”

“Unfortunately, Wood, I do not care enough about you to do that,” he replied. 

“Well, I don’t care about you either, Weasley!” He said defensively, leaning onto the balls of his feet. 

“There is something we finally agree on,” Percy grinned, slamming the bathroom door, removing Oliver Wood from his sight. He exhaled, finally a moment of peace. 

Percy twisted the lock on the door, ensuring at least a few moments alone before his first day. He laid out his clothes the night before in preparation. He was careful to wear something he felt comfortable in, but not so comfortable that people would judge him or make fun of him. Then, he had a robe that would mask any other insecurity about what he was wearing. 

Charlie’s words replayed in his mind. You should try to at least make one friend. It’ll make your first weeks here a lot easier. He repeated these words as he strolled through the corridors of the school. So far, he had made an enemy of his own roommate, and his other roommate was too close to Oliver for Percy to be willing to be his friend. 

Eleanor crossed his mind. While he couldn’t figure her out exactly, he knew she wasn’t looking for friends. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he found Ivy Violet sitting with the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. So, all the Gryffindors were out. His eyes searched the hall. Friends weren’t important to him, really, but he knew that life was a popularity contest. Those with the highest amount of friends were the ones who were safest. 

That was when he found Penelope Clearwater. Her hair was a bright, blinding, close to white, blonde. Her eyes were a staggering blue, hard to look away from, but coming into contact with them felt like instant death. Her hair was twisted into two braids on both sides of her head, and her neck had piles of braided chains around them. She stared at her plate as she ate. 

You should try to at least make one friend. It’ll make your first weeks here a lot easier. He sighed, letting his shoulders drop as he made his decision. He dragged his feet to her. He knew she could feel him approaching, but she never looked up. 

“Hi,” he said quietly as he stood above her from the opposite side of the table. 

She slowly lifted her eyes to his as he prepared to drop dead immediately. Instead, he was met with a warm, inviting gaze. “Hi,” she said back, her lips curving as she glanced around at the others in their year who had already formed their own friendships. “Percy Weasley, right?” 

“Percy,” he nodded. She smiled. “Perce to my friends.” He lied. He didn’t have any friends. “Penelope, right?” 

“Penny,” she lifted her shoulders with a sigh. “Well, my parents call me Penny, but you can call me Pen. Penelope is a bit of a mouthful.”

“Only a little,” he said back. She chuckled, appearing much more confident than she previously did. He looked around, unsure of what to say. He never had a friend before. What else was he supposed to do?

It was as though she detected his anxiety, because she spoke almost immediately after this crossed his mind. “Are you nervous for today? All the classes, new people, new teachers to get to know.”

He nodded his head. “I barely slept last night,” he told her. “That was partly because of my thoughts. But that guy Oliver Wood—he didn’t shut up the entire night.”

She giggled, her laugh transforming to a snort. “Yeah, he looked a bit irritating. Nice bloke,” she added as though she never meant any offence to him. “But irritating.”

“Well, lucky me, I get to share a room with him for the next seven years,” he grunted sarcastically. 

“Well the only thing I can say is good luck to you,” she said. He smiled. “I’m completely new to all this. My dad came to this school, but it wasn’t the greatest time for him, so he gave it up. Imagine his dismay when my letter arrived.”

“My parents are both pure bloods,” he told her. 

“Pure bloods?” She repeated as though she was unaware what that word meant. She really was new to this. 

“There is pure blood, which is me, because both my parents are pure blood, then half bloods, and muggle borns,” he explained. “You’re half blood, because one of your parents is a wizard, and the other is a muggle.”

“Right,” she nodded, attempting to take in this new information. 

“It does not make a difference though,” he added soon after out of fear of coming off as one of those idiotic blood supremacists that he and his family felt a great amount of hate towards. He never understood it. 

“Oh good,” she sighed in relief, her bright grin returning to her face.

*

Percy was truly amazed at all of it. The magic, the professors, all his lessons. Luckily, his knowledge in his first lesson of Potions had earned him and his house ten points. Charlie later told him how unusual that was, because Professor Snape despised any student who wasn’t in Slytherin. He realised with those words what an impact Hogwarts would make—and for all the good reasons. No pity, no judgement, and no prejudice. He could finally be his own person. 

Charms was one of his most notable favourites. Learning and acquiring the skills of using spells was something he loved. Getting his wand for the first time, feeling the gush of air and a bright light radiating from the touch of the wand in his hand, was enough of an incredible feeling on its own. Finally getting to use it was exciting in all the best ways. Professor Flitwick was a kind teacher, and one of his favourites so far. 

Now, Defence Against the Dark Arts was a truly fascinating subject to him. Unfortunately, there was a terrible teacher, who automatically took a liking and favouritism toward the Slytherin students, especially that boy, Elton Ivory. Hugo Doherty his name was. Old, but inexperienced. Too inexperienced for a job like that, and the intelligence and brilliance of the other professors further showed that Professor Doherty was terrible. 

Transfiguration was by far his favourite subject, and Professor McGonagall made the subject even better. She was clever, gifted in her pursuit, and stern enough to keep the entire class together. Nobody dared to step out of line with her. Many looked at her with fear. Penelope and Percy watched her in admiration. 

Each of the students in his year were placed in the same class. There were only thirty of them, and weren’t enough to place in their own separate classes. Percy was endlessly grateful for this, because he had no interest in becoming friends with anybody other than Penelope. 

Then, finally, on the final day of the week, he was stuck with his compulsory flying lesson. He and Penelope both dreaded that day. Neither of them were sporty people, and flying around on a broomstick wasn’t so appealing to him. 

He and Penelope stuck together, getting a spot beside each other with their own brooms. Oliver Wood ran to the spot next to Percy before anybody else could. He knew why. He wanted to try and show him that he was good. Percy struggled to care any less about him. 

“Now, place your hand above the broom, and say up !” Madam Hooch finished explaining. 

He glanced down at the broom. “Up,” he mumbled, not a single note of enthusiasm. The broom didn’t budge. He sighed, and looked at Penelope who seemed to have the same issue. “This is stupid,” he said to her. She nodded in agreement, opening her mouth to reply before she was interrupted.

“Is it stupid?” Oliver leaned forward. “Or do you think that because you can’t do it?” 

“I am not trying,” Percy told him. He looked away, and then looked back. “And I was not talking to you.”

“Oh, I know,” he said back with a smirk. “Maybe you’re not trying, because you know you’ll fail either way.”

“Shut up, Wood,” he grunted. 

“Oh, look!” Elton smiled at the two of them, drawing in the attention of Marcus and Terrence. “Wood and Weasley are fighting like an old married couple. How romantic?”

“We are not,” Percy looked over to them. Elton pushed his shoulders, arching an eyebrow smugly. 

“Yeah, we’re not,” Oliver added. Percy rolled his eyes at the sound of his voice after adding an unneeded comment. 

He looked over to him. “Yeah, I would never stoop that low,” Percy said to them, targeting Oliver specifically. 

Oliver laughed. “As if you could do any better,” he replied.

“Leave him alone, Wood,” Penelope spat, pulling Percy by his shirt. He smiled at her, attempting to distract himself from Oliver and the other three Slytherin boys who were cackling at their interaction. Especially Elton, who seemed very satisfied with himself. “Up!” She called out, but all the broom did was wiggle around the ground, seeming as though it didn’t want to come up. “Oh, I hate this class.”

“Me too,” Percy mumbled in agreement. He looked down at the broom for the second time. He raised his voice slightly louder. “Up!” He said, staring at it. Again, it didn’t budge. At least it wiggled for Penelope, but this broom acted as though it was purposefully ignoring his word.

“Up!” Oliver said, and with that, the broom rose to his hand without a second. It was the first time Percy heard him attempt it, and it went up as though it was meant just for him. This only infuriated Percy even more and gave Oliver extra ammunition. “See how easy that was. For me, though. Clearly, not for you.”

“ Clearly not for you ,” Percy said in his mocking voice.

“Even if you tried, Weasley, I doubt you could do it,” Oliver said. Percy was never mean to Oliver for the sake of hurting his feelings. He was mean to let him know that he didn’t want to be his friend. Clearly, Percy’s words had hit Oliver close to him, and in his journey to avoid the problem of being his friend, he had traded it for a rivalry with him instead. “I doubt you’d be good enough.”

Although Oliver was only repeating Percy’s own words from the days before, he said it with conviction in front of a group of people. So he could be rational and logical and repeat in his head that this was Oliver’s way of getting payback. Or, he could tackle him like he and his brothers resolved issues. Which one did he choose? The second one.

He shuffled his feet on the floor, turning his body to Oliver slowly. Oliver opened his mouth to say something again, but Percy didn’t want to hear it. He jumped out, grabbing Oliver by his shoulders, and throwing him and himself to the ground. He tried to swing his arms, which he managed to do a few times, but Oliver was doing a brilliant job at dodging or holding his arms back. 

“Get up now, boys!” Madam Hooch called out as the students crowded around them. Only one in this whirlwind of events did he see the Slytherin boys who had never appeared happier in their lives. They were jumping up and down, commentating on the fight. They seemed to be rooting for whoever looked like they were winning, which was sometimes Percy, and sometimes Oliver. 

He was only stopped by a force that he couldn’t free himself out of. Even as he was raised to his feet, he tried to break out of it, but it was overwhelmingly strong. Professor McGonagall held her wand up, staring at the two boys with anger. Percy had an instant wave of reality, glancing at Oliver, who he had never felt more hatred towards than right at that moment. 

“Explain yourselves,” she said, letting go of the spell. His entire body loosened. His eyes were glued to the floor in embarrassment. “Both of you, come with me, now .”

The two of them were silenced by her, and did not give each other a second thought as they followed her through the corridors, too focused on whatever punishment they were going to be met with. It would be Oliver’s fault. Percy grew up with two older brothers, and two younger who never allowed him a second of peace and quiet. Clearly, Oliver was an only child, and too soft to handle any insult. 

She swung open the door of her classroom with the flick of her wand. Percy ran all the scenarios through his mind. A call to his parents. Oh, how those results would be catastrophic. They would be furious. Or in his first week, could he be expelled? Would he be unable to attend his classes? He squeezed his eyes shut as he prepared for the worst case scenario. 

“Lucky for you, my classroom needs tidying,” she told the two of them. Percy froze. “So, you will both attend detention on Monday.” At that moment, expulsion didn’t seem so bad. “This type of behaviour is unacceptable. The two of you have been granted the privilege of attending this school, and are stupid enough to take it for granted.”

“I’m not taking it for granted,” Oliver added on. Always speaking when it was not needed. Percy rolled his eyes. “Weasley started it.”

Percy scowled, immediately turning to him. “You said you doubted I would ever be good enough.”

“You said that to me the other day!” Oliver threw his arms up in frustration. 

“Enough,” McGonagall said, silencing them both again. “Also lucky for you, it was the last subject of the day, so you can both return to your Common Room, and this better be the last time I ever hear of anything like this.”

“It will be, Professor,” Percy assured. He never wanted a fight to begin with, but Oliver had a way of getting on his nerves. He noticed from the corner of his eye how Oliver mouthed the same words, his head softly shaking as he did this. 

“Okay, good,” she nodded, looking between them. “Dismissed.” They both turned around. Oliver rushed out of the room, avoiding coming into contact with Percy. Percy wasn’t complaining. This was all he wanted. 

As Oliver swung the door shut in Percy’s face, Percy turned back to Professor McGonagall. “Professor?”

“Yes, Mr Weasley?” She replied as she placed both hands on her desk. 

“Is there any way I could have a dormitory switch?” He asked. It was a long shot, but a question that was worth asking. He could hardly stand Oliver, and sharing a room with him for the next seven years didn’t seem like the greatest way of avoiding another incident like this one. “It is just that we share a room, and it does not seem like the best idea.”

She sighed, lowering herself to the seat. “I am sorry, Mr Weasley, but that isn’t possible. You, Mr Wood, and Mr Jones are the only Gryffindor boys this year, so there is nowhere else I can put you.”

“I could go with second years, or third years,” he offered. 

“No, we prefer to keep you with your peers. People that you spend your time around.”

“But—”

“Mr Weasley, you are a very intelligent, promising young boy,” she interrupted. “You have a very real chance at becoming a prefect in a few years' time. But your behaviour has to improve, and whatever is happening with you and Mr Wood has to as well. You will be spending the next seven years together, so I suggest you let go of the grudge you have, or become friends.”

He paid careful attention to her words, but becoming a prefect was the one thing that really stuck out. If his rivalry, or whatever it was between them, put his chances of becoming a prefect on the line, he would let go of it. But, he couldn’t let go of his hate toward Oliver Wood. 

Chapter Text

Percy and Penelope sat beside each other at dinner. It was like this throughout every break and meal. Even in their classes. They swore to never leave each other’s side. To always be there for one another, which was an easy vow to live by. Neither of them had any other friends, and nor did they intend on making any others either, because they had each other. 

The mornings began to grow colder as their warm autumn transformed into a freezing winter. Instead of a thin shirt and long shorts, he wore layers upon layers of clothing to keep warm. The sky in the Great Hall, instead of reflecting a bright, clean blue sky presented as dark gray clouds. The atmosphere had shifted as the weather became cooler.

He loved Hogwarts. That was what he concluded from his experience. He loved Hogwarts, and he dreaded returning back home to live in siblings’ shadow. While Bill and Charlie attended, their lives remained completely separate, and he was known as his own person. He would prefer Elton’s annoyingly constant jokes about him and Oliver than being constantly spoken about as Charlie and Bill’s little brother. 

“Hm,” Penelope hummed as she ate her food. She lifted her eyes to Percy, her body rocking slightly. “So, if you had to choose one textbook to read for the rest of your life, which one would you pick?”

“Out of which textbooks?” Percy asked. He had read every single one that he needed throughout his seven years.

She took a moment to think, searching the rooms as she thought of an answer. She bit her lip. “Out of the ones we needed this year.”

“Oh, History of Magic,” he waved his hand as though it was obvious. She lifted an eyebrow. “Obviously. While I could read about spells and potions forever, I think I would choose History of Magic. It’s always been my favourite.”

“Mine, too,” she nodded her head in agreement. “Especially when everything is new. It just makes it all ten times better.”

“I read it for the first time when I was seven,” Percy stated. “Just before Bill came to Hogwarts.” Everything Percy said to her, he was met with astonishment from her end. He always wondered what it would be like growing up as a muggle, but he learned through her surprise and admiration of their world, and eventually, he developed an understanding of it. “Subjects,” he stirred. “What are your favourites?”

“Oh, definitely Transfiguration.” She didn’t bother to ask him. Everybody knew the answer to this question—Transfiguration. “Least favourite? Other than flying lessons.” 

Now, that was a difficult question to answer. Percy found joy in every class he attended; a new area of knowledge to explore was always exciting for him. However, he considered it for a moment. “Defence Against the Dark Arts,” he said shortly. “Because I cannot stand Professor Doherty.”

“Eugh,” she cringed. “Me neither. I just have a bad feeling about him, you know?” 

A bad feeling was slightly too dramatic to describe what he felt toward Professor Doherty. He didn’t like him, and he disliked his teaching methods, and his clear prejudice in the favour of Slytherin boys. He often called Elton to remain after classes, and to Percy, he was the most intolerable out of the three of them. If Elton was his favourite, he was probably similar to him.

“Why?” Robert Hilliard leaned back in his chair as though he was eavesdropping. Penelope and Percy both turned to him. He glanced at Penelope, waiting for her to answer. However, when he saw her, her eyes were squeezed shut, and her fists were tightly closed. Percy furrowed his eyebrows at her in confusion. 

“None of your business, Robert ,” she answered. Robert threw his hands up innocently, glancing at his friends, Ivy and Gabriel. She scowled as though she had just smelt something terrible. “Go stick your nose somewhere it actually belongs. It’s usually up a teacher’s arse, why don’t you go try there?” 

“I was just asking,” he said, his eyes slightly widened in horror. Percy must be staring into a mirror, because he expected himself to look exactly the same at Penelope’s unexpected wrath. Robert was always a nice boy, but Penelope seemed to hate him. 

“Clearly, it isn’t safe to speak here,” Penelope turned to Percy with a fake smile, then she stared at Robert from the corner of her eye. “Without someone eavesdropping.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping—“

She held her hand up silencing him. “I don’t care, Robert, ” she said his name with disgust every time. “Save it for someone who does. Perce, let’s go.” Percy never bothered to ask her about why she seemed to hate him. He didn’t care enough. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was very rudely interrupted before that prick, I just have a bad feeling whenever I’m around him. It’s like haunting .”

“I think he is just a terrible teacher,” Percy said. “The way he picks favourites. It infuriates me.”

“Right!” Penelope agreed. “And Flint and Higgs seem to eat up everything he says.”

“And Ivory,” he added. 

Penelope shook her head. “Nah, not him. He’s awfully quiet in his class compared to the others,” she explained. “Significantly less obnoxious in that one.”

Percy folded his arms. “Maybe that is his tactic in staying the favourite,” he laughed. “Staying quiet for once in his miserable life.”

“Honestly,” Penelope agreed with a grin. “What do we have first?” 

“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” he informed her with a frown, and they made their way up there. 

Another thing Percy adored about Hogwarts was walking through the corridors. He never quite grew used to the feeling of making his way to a class, being greeted by the portraits who always seemed to remember him, or they saw his hair and knew he was a Weasley. Or the small charms made by seventh years. Magical seemed like too small of a word to describe all of it. 

Over time, in every class, while their seats were never assigned, everybody returned back to the same one every class. It became an unspoken rule between all the students in their year.  Peter and Oliver sat a chair over from Penelope and Percy, and the three Slytherin boys, and Gemma, sat behind them. It was as though they were waiting for an opportunity to open up to make a sly or smart arse comment. Robert, Gabriel, and Ivy sat in the same row, but slightly away from them, and often minded their own business.

Professor Doherty assigned them essays about defensive spells. While he loved writing essays, the ones Doherty assigned were underwhelming. The aim of the task was never clear enough for it to be completed well, and it frustrated Percy every time, especially when he wished to end up top of the class. 

“Hey,” Elton hissed, leaning forward. Oliver and Percy both turned to him with a chair to separate them. “Has couples therapy failed for the two of you? Because I can’t imagine that ignoring each other is a healthy way to cope.”

Clearly Penelope was wrong. Elton could never be less arrogant. 

He also never seemed to let go of this joke. Percy and Oliver were constantly reminded of it whenever they crossed paths with him, which was every single class they had. Every time, he added his own unique spin to it, and every time, the three boys appeared to be so proud of themselves. And nothing pissed Percy off more. Other than Oliver. 

Percy sighed. “Shut up, Ivory,” he said yet again. It seemed like a catch phrase, considering how much he spoke these words. 

Oliver glanced at him, then smirked. “Didn’t work out,” he replied teasingly toward Percy. Percy dropped his quill, glaring at Oliver. “There's something difficult about trying to talk to someone who can never admit they’re wrong.”

“I was not wrong about anything,” he said. “Did you make it onto the Quidditch team? Wait, no, you didn’t.”

“I was never trying to make it this year,” Oliver leaned toward him angrily. 

“Lads, lads,” Elton said, scrunching a piece of paper in his hand and throwing it between their faces to get them to rip their attention away from each other. Marcus and Terrence glanced at each other, smiling. “The fighting is only going to hurt the kids.”

“The kids?” Oliver questioned. 

“Clearwater and Jones,” he pointed at Penelope, and then Peter. He lounged back, smiling. “Can’t you see? It’s destroying them.”

“Oh seriously, Ivory, give it up,” Penelope finally said. She always jumped in when his comments began to annoy her too. 

He threw his arms up. “Hey, I know you’re hurt by their constant arguing, but don’t take it out on me,” he replied. She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned Percy back to his own desk, and away from Elton. Attention was something he always craved, she told him, and giving it to him will only encourage him to continue this charade. 

He tried to return back to his essay, staring at the parchment in confusion. Usually, everything came so easy to him, but Defence Against the Dark Arts bored him. He was forced to dedicate multiple hours to essays he could spill out in half an hour in other subjects. He glanced at Penelope who seemed to have the same problem, and then at the clock that told him they only had three minutes left of the class, to which he exhaled. 

The bell echoed through the room bringing him relief as he gathered all of his things. Penelope sighed loudly. 

“Something on your mind, Clearwater?” Elton flicked his bag over his shoulder with a smile. 

“Shut up,” she glared, pushing Percy softly, urging him to continue walking, which he did. He was thrilled that the day was finally over, and he could go hide out in his bedroom for a few hours. 

“Mr Ivory, stay back a minute, please,” Professor Doherty said, to which Marcus and Terrence laughed loudly, shoving him back into the desk teasingly. Elton frowned, taking their pushes as he rolled his own eyes. Percy assumed it was for his comments about Oliver and himself, but he never cared enough about it to want Elton to get into any trouble over it. 

*

Percy sat in the library, his leg bobbing up and down in the dimly lit room. He couldn’t wrap his head around the essay. What exactly did Doherty want to know about defensive spells they hadn’t already gone over multiple times that year?

“Perce,” Charlie smiled as though he knew he would find him there. The two of them met up at least once a week in their currently very busy lives. It was one part of his week that he always looked forward to. “How’s everything been this week?” 

“Not very good,” he admitted, loosening his grip around his quill that he thought if he stared at long enough, he would find the words. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite grasp the idea of this task. Stupid, useless, repetitive task. “Professor Doherty assigned us an essay on something we have done a million times before. It seems like a pointless assignment.”

“I’ve noticed that too,” he said with a nod, staring into the distance with thought. Percy folded his arms, lifting his shoulder. As much as he hated Doherty, he was still unable to do this task without feeling a constant state of frustration. “I mean, if you’ve done it before, just write about what you’ve done before. I’ve done that whenever he has repeated things, and he’s given me good marks back.”

Percy shook his head. He hoped that going to Hogwarts, he would learn new things and not have lessons repeated a hundred times throughout the school year. It was only December, and Doherty already seemed clueless. “Just seems like a waste of time.” 

“Oh, it definitely is,” Charlie chuckled, dropping his arm beside himself. “But we sometimes have to do stuff we don’t want to. Plus, if you’re ever losing hope, just remember he will go eventually.”

“Maybe he will stick,” Percy grunted, thinking about how much his life would suck if Doherty stayed the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts for the next seven years. 

“Nah,” Charlie waved his hand dismissively, blinking. “No one ever sticks as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Never have while I’ve been here. He’s my fourth teacher.”

“Really?” Percy asked, suddenly full of hope. 

“Yeah,” Charlie assured him. “There’s talk that there was a curse put on that position, because no one ever lasts longer than a year.”

“Well that will be a relief,” he commented. 

Charlie tilted his head. “A relief if the next is better. We had a brilliant one last year. Was devastated when she resigned, and then we got stuck with that knob.”

Percy chuckled. “We can only hope, I suppose.” 

“That’s right,” he patted his back gently with a smile across his face. He dropped his back to the chair, sliding down to get more comfortable. “Anyway, other than the school work, how’ve things been?” 

“Alright,” he shrugged. There was nothing to complain about, except his roommate that he hated more than he could put into words, but he figured that Charlie had heard enough of his resentment toward Oliver Wood. But there wasn’t anything good to say either. He and Penelope remained close, but that was about it. His school work pretty much took over his entire life. He didn’t care about the other things. “How about you? That guy, Myron, left you alone yet?”

“Surprisingly, he has been slightly quieter lately,” Charlie told him. “Dunno why. But can’t complain, can I? I’ve been praying for the day.”

But he knew everything about his brother. He knew the moments where he was happy. But he recognised when he was upset. And something about the way he said these words that were drowning in sadness. Although, he could never place it. Maybe he did want to be friends with Myron.

“How about that boy, Oliver?” Charlie said. 

Percy rolled his eyes at the sound of his name. “I would like to say he has been quieter, but sharing a room with him—unfortunately, he never shuts up.”

Charlie smiled. “He’s a nice boy. Hassles me about Quidditch, but still nice”

“You’ve said that,” Percy mumbled. He hated any positive word said about Oliver, because he was the most aggravating person Percy had to deal with. Even more than Elton Ivory, and his intention was to aggravate others. “But if you had to share a room with someone who gets up at 5am, and steals the bathroom every time, just to go sweat again straight after, you wouldn’t like him either.” 

“Well,” he tilted his head, lifting his hand as he scratched his head, “that is fair enough. I don’t know him well enough.”

“You will when he hassles you to be on the Quidditch team next year.” 

“Gotta admire his dedication, though,” he offered. 

Percy’s lip curled. “No,” he replied shortly. “There is nothing admirable about Oliver Wood.”

*

“Have you seen it?” Oliver rushed frantically around the room, looking under every bed, even the ones that were unused. Percy ignored his words, going back to reading his book. He ran to the bathroom, lifted up the toilet seat, and let it drop as he left the bathroom. 

“Cannot imagine what you would be looking for in the toilet,” Percy said, arching his eyebrow as he glanced at Oliver. 

Oliver sighed, glaring at him for a moment before returning back to his thorough search. He slid his trunk out onto the middle of the floor, throwing all his clothes across the room as he searched the contents of it. Peter was watching him with concern from his own bed, but continued to sit as he watched his best friend go through some crisis.

“You better clean that stuff up,” he added. The only reason the room ever looked presentable was because Percy made it so. When the two boys were gone from the room, Percy tidied their stuff up. Of course, his efforts were never noticed, because he was stuck with the two most oblivious boys in their year. 

“I’m going through an existential crisis now, Weasley, now is not a good time for your bossy demands,” he paused, pushing his hands through his hair. “I’m going to die if I can’t find it.”

“Please never find it,” Percy smiled. 

“ Please never find it ,” Oliver mocked. “My binder. I can’t find it anywhere,” he dropped his head to the floor in defeat. 

“Lucky I am not an idiot, and never misplace my own things,” Percy said, lifting up his binder, waving it around smugly. 

“That’s mine,” Oliver said, rushing over to him to take it from him. “Look, there is a tiny crease at the front. Yours doesn’t have any.” Percy furrowed his eyebrows, believing that he was lying. He flipped the book around, finding the crease across the front cover. 

Percy loosened his grip, allowing him to have it back. “Okay, yes, this is yours.”

“So who is the idiot who misplaces his things?” Oliver smirked.

“Still not me,” Percy replied, although he had no clue where his was. He scanned the room from his bed, and found it on the bedside table on the other side of the bed. His eyes lit up, grabbing it to rub it in his face. “See.”

“You didn’t even know,” Oliver laughed, shaking his head.

“And it was all a part of my elaborate prank,” he jumped off the bed, placing his arms out. Oliver stared at him with a glint of amusement. 

“You two are the same person,” Peter said to them from across the room. Both of them shifted their attention, focusing on him rather than Percy’s elaborate prank. “Who, other than you two, have binders?” 

“I imagine many people would,” Percy stated, then cringed as he looked away.

“It’s just what us geniuses do, Mr Jones,” Oliver threw himself onto his own bed, smirking at Peter. 

“Geniuses?” Percy said as though he had tasted something unfamiliar and awful. “That is an awfully high level to describe an idiot like yourself.”

Oliver turned his head that was pressed against his pillow. He pointed his tongue out, resting between his lips. Percy smiled, resuming his book. 

*

His hate for Oliver had faded into lighthearted banter. It was certainly an improvement from their previous feud and the physical fights that broke out that Peter had to put a stop to. Maybe Oliver wasn’t all bad. He was just unbelievably irritating. 

Percy scribbled on a piece of paper, copying the notes from the blackboard from the front—Hugo was, once, finally teaching a lesson rather than ordering the students to write another, repetitive essay like he usually did. Percy couldn’t say he was disappointed. He was enjoying the acquisition of knowledge for the first in a while. Especially when Defence Against the Dark Arts was always a class he was fascinated in. 

It was a quiet class. Everybody was focused on writing the notes down. He made it through one entire period without Elton commenting on how Oliver and Percy were a married couple. Actually, he made it through multiple weeks without one of his smart comments. His face screwed up when this realisation washed over him.

He glanced behind him, his eyes falling onto Elton, who lounged in his chair comfortably. Dark bags grew under his eyes that only had a slit between them as though he was about to fall asleep. His eyes flickered shut, but immediately opened as he picked up his head. He searched the room as though he was looking to see if anybody saw him. 

“Enjoying the view, Weasley?” He asked with a bitterness on his tongue rather than his usual cheeky grin. 

Percy’s head jerked away, hot with embarrassment. Oh, how he wanted the class to end right there so he could escape this moment. Elton was someone who, no matter what, had a new comment—a  new insult. And Percy was someone who never wanted to hear it.

As the bell rang indicating it was time to go to the next class, he rushed, holding his bag above his knee, and pushing everything inside it. Penelope teased Percy as they made their way to their following class. She repeated Elton’s words, nudging him softly.

They dropped their bags onto their desks, finding Professor Binns, who appeared to be sleeping. He often did this. But Percy thought that if he was a professor for about a thousand years, he would be tired of it, too. As the others arrived, they quietly roared in excitement that this lesson wouldn’t have any teaching in it. 

Marcus and Terrence fell behind Percy and Penelope. Terrence strategically placed his bag on the chair beside him, saving a spot for Elton who hadn’t yet arrived—as though he got lost between Defence Against the Dark Arts and walking a few corridors down to History of Magic. As Elton finally came in, he stared at the ground, his eyes filled with relief when he found Professor Binns asleep.

Percy was the only person in his class whose shoulders sank in disappointment when he saw that he was asleep. History was something that he never grew tired of, learning about what created the world as it was today, how magic evolved over the years—it was incredible to him, and it was strange that nobody agreed with his stance. 

“Where’ve you been, Elton?” Terrence asked. Marcus placed his elbows on the desk, leaning forward to see him. Percy paused as he listened to their conversation. Not intentionally. They were just always loud enough for the entire class to hear them. 

“Yeah,” Marcus added, “I feel like we haven’t hung out in weeks.”

“He’s forgotten about us,” Terrence sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he clutched his chest. 

“No, I haven’t,” Elton smiled softly at Terrence.

“Maybe he’s realised how annoying the two of you are and decided to steer clear,” Oliver smirked, twisting his chair around. 

“No one asked you, Wood,” Marcus glared. Oliver shrugged his shoulders innocently with a grin. 

“So?” Terrence added, focused on Elton. This seemed to grab the attention of Penelope and Peter, too. “Where have you been lately?”

“Nowhere,” he laughed. “The library. Studying. Just didn’t tell you because you’d tease me.” Percy’s eyebrows scrunched up. He spent a lot of time in the library. It was his favourite place in the school. He hadn’t seen Elton there in weeks. 

“Hey,” Terrence gasped. “I asked you to study with me the other day and you said no.”

“Maybe because I knew you meant to copy off my work,” Elton leaned forward teasingly.

Terrence raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, that shouldn’t even be a problem. I feel betrayed. Very betrayed.”

“Dramatic,” Elton smiled. Terrence had been the reason for one of the first times Percy had seen Elton smile in a while and managed to do so twice in five minutes. Elton ran his hand through his hair, dropping his arm to the table as he turned to the front of the class. 

Percy jumped at the sound of Terrence taking one last big gulp of air as though it was the last one he would ever take. He snapped back to them. He gaped at Elton’s wrist. “What the hell?” He grabbed Elton’s wrist and brought it closer to him. “Where did you get it?” His eyes bounced between Elton’s face and then his wrist with admiration. 

“I don’t get it, it’s just a watch?” Oliver commented. 

“Of course you’d think that,” Terrence said. “You don't think that anything, other than a broom, is valuable.”

“That watch is five hundred galleons,” Percy told Oliver, which sent a rush of realisation over him. Then, his own eyes widened, and he jumped out of his seat to inspect it. Percy, himself, was intrigued. “Where did you get it, Ivory?” 

“I—I found it,” he said. 

“Then, you should give it to a teacher so they can give it back to whoever owns it,” Percy suggested. 

“Well I’m not a narc like you, Weasley,” Elton replied. Percy rolled his eyes. A narc would be the one who becomes successful. Lying and stealing wasn’t an effective way of getting places. “And it’s none of your business. All of you. So just forget it.”

“Okay,” Terrence murmured with disappointment. He hesitated as he turned away, folding his arms. 

*

The end of year exams were growing closer. As the time came near, his anxiety became a larger weight that he could hardly bear. His days consisted of rushing through his work in order to have more time after school hours to study. Meanwhile, his nights involved staying up to ungodly hours as he studied, writing extra essays, running through more information, and preparing for exam conditions. 

Percy finally had been given the chance to rebel against any assumptions made about him or his intelligence, and he would do anything to result as the top of his class. He would give his parents, and himself, something to be proud of.

He eventually tuned out the sound of Oliver snoring, and rolling around in his bed rapidly. He was in the middle of a report when he saw a foot on the edge of his parchment. A sleepy Oliver stumbled across the room. Percy glared at him as the parchment crumbled under his foot and slightly ripped. 

Oliver didn’t seem to notice him sitting on the ground, leaving the door wide open as he went to the bathroom. Percy cringed at his obliviousness, attempting to stay focused on studying, but it was difficult as he heard a water stream smash against the toilet bowl. 

Oliver turned around, shaking his hands to rid them of excess water. Percy was surprised that he had the decency to actually wash his hands. He struck Percy as the type of person to believe he didn’t have to. “Sorry, I needed to piss,” he mumbled with embarrassment. 

“Yeah, I heard,” he replied, laying on his stomach. 

“What are you doing awake at this time?” Oliver asked.

Percy gestured at the papers and books spread across the ground in front of him. “Studying,” he said. “Doubt you’ve ever heard of it.” 

“Well, I don’t need to study,” Oliver replied, shrugging his shoulders. Percy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t need to study if you’re a genius.”

“Oh, wow,” Percy laughed, rolling his eyes. “You need to get over yourself.”

Oliver climbed back into bed, pulling his blanket over his shoulder. He watched Percy from his bed. “Impossible,” he said. Everything Oliver ever said was always an insult on himself, which was amusing, and greatly satisfying for Percy.

“When you fail, I will be laughing,” he said to him. 

Oliver smiled, closing his eyes, murmuring the words, “I don’t doubt it.” He was frustrating, irritating, exhausting, and intolerable. Percy knew he was asleep when he began snoring again. For once, he was relieved to hear that sound, meaning he could carry on with his task without the interruption of Oliver himself. 

All year, Percy was never allowed the chance to forget that Oliver’s main goal was making the Quidditch team. He, often, insulted Quidditch just to watch him get riled up and angry. But Percy never cared about it. It was just a moment of amusement. 

Oliver always said that his fate rested outside the universe of academic achievement. He said that he would kill himself if he never made the Quidditch team. Percy replied with good, die. But he knew those words would encourage Oliver’s dreams of making the team, just to spite Percy. 

He was glad to trade his problems of Oliver being an enemy to him being somewhat a friend, but still enough of an enemy to keep himself sane. 

*

To Percy’s credit, he did quite well in his end of year exams. Just as he hoped for, and worked day and night, he received the best grades out of his entire year, except Defence Against the Dark Arts, where Elton made it above him.

He impatiently waited for the time he would return home and was able to tell his parents about his achievements. Maybe for once they would look at him with something more than just pity. Maybe even pride. 

However, as he boarded the train, and caught the last glimpse of the castle in the distance, he knew the next two months could never compete with the time he spent there. He would miss the classes every day. He would certainly miss Penelope, who he first respected, and then quickly grew to love. And possibly, he might even miss his rivalry with Oliver, but he knew he would relish in the peace that his absence would bring. 

“Can’t believe we’re going back home,” Penelope spoke with her hand pressed against the wall behind her. She gazed at the castle in the distance with a disappointed frown.

“We will be back in two months,” Percy replied, but he understood her longing stare, because he knew that a week at home would send himself into a state of desperately wanting to return. “But, at least we have something to look forward to.”

“What’s that?” She asked.

“No more Professor Doherty,” he smirked.

She broke into a smile. “Oh, yeah!”

Professor Doherty resigned. When Percy heard this news, he was relieved, and looked forward to the following year to meet the new DADA teacher. He despised Doherty. His teaching methods. Or really, his lack there of. He hated how he favoured the Slytherin boys repeatedly. And when he wasn’t doing either of those things, he would order them to do an essay, so he could sit around doing nothing. 

Elton Ivory, and the other two boys, seemed disappointed at this news. Elton’s shoulders were hunched over, flicking his food around the plate, but he didn’t seem surprised.

Why he resigned was unknown. That information was never released to the school. Many had their theories, but nothing Percy ever paid much attention to. He didn’t care why. He was just glad that Professor Doherty’s teaching days at Hogwarts were officially at their end.

“Now we have to wait the entire summer to find out who,” Penelope stated. 

“Let us just hope that they are a better teacher than Doherty,” he said. 

“That won’t be difficult,” she winked jokingly. Then her face fell serious. “You have to promise to write, Perce.”

“Of course I will, Pen,” he placed his hand on her shoulder, smiling. “You know I will.” 

Then, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He froze for a moment, unsure exactly of what to do. He had never been a big hugger. But he had never been a good friend before he met her. She brought out many different sides of him, and he found that none of them were negative. So, he allowed himself to hug her back.

The door swung open. “I’m telling Wood about this,” Terrence poked his head inside. Marcus sniggered. Elton just seemed sad, really. The three boys joined Penelope and Percy in the carriage, sitting on the opposite side of them. 

“Oh, piss off, Higgs,” Percy sighed. This was going to be a long train ride. 

“Are you and Wood officially divorced?” Terrence asked, adding onto the joke. 

“It’s okay, Perce , you can tell us,” Marcus added, glancing at Terrence with a smile. 

“Lads, leave him alone,” Elton said. Percy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He’s clearly heartbroken.” The three boys laughed. Percy and Penelope shared a look, rolling their eyes. When the three boys were together, there was a single brain cell that they shared that bounced between them on the same wavelength. 

Chapter Text

Just as Percy expected, his summer dragged by. While he was often distracted by his brothers’ foolish behaviours, time passed slower than it did at Hogwarts. He wrote a letter every day to Penelope, finding that he missed her more than he had previously imagined. And he read. A lot. But nothing ever matched the feeling of being at school. 

At school, he was always remembered. His entire year knew his name, given that there were only thirty names to remember. But he was known for something other than being a Weasley. While people found him annoying, a nerd, or a smart arse, he didn’t care. His classmates allowed him to feel less of an outcast, because they always included him.

It was funny, really. How the Slytherin boys made fun of them, how Penelope had her own personal vendetta against Robert Hilliard for unknown reasons, how they all disliked each other, but all became this strange, unexpected group. He viewed it as some fucked up family—himself, Penelope, Oliver, Peter, Marcus, Elton, Terrence, Robert, Gabriel, Ivy, and Gemma. They all had their issues, they all fought, but they were all connected in a way. And he missed his family. 

He gazed out the window, watching as his brothers threw a ball around the field, making up their own game of Quidditch. Ron, who was always excluded, was finally allowed to play with them as he was deemed old enough. Unfortunately, Ginny wasn’t. She was still too young in their eyes. 

He dropped his attention back to his letters from Penelope that he often reread to remind him of how he felt at Hogwarts, and how he felt when he was around her. How she gave him the encouragement to be someone that he liked.

Penelope had adopted a few new words in her vocabulary, like darling and sweetheart , very often using it in her letters to him. Fred and George assumed that he had a girlfriend, but he snatched his letters away from them. He really did love her, but never like that. He was too young to even be thinking about that. 

Ginny sighed, climbing onto the chair. She folded her arms, glaring outside the window. “I’m gonna miss you, Perce,” she said. 

“I’ll miss you too, Ginny,” he smiled, folding the letters as he shoved them into his pocket. 

“They never let me join in on their stupid games,” she grunted. “And they always tease me.”

“Tease them back,” he replied. People tend to tease people they don’t view as an equal. Teasing them in return showed them they’re more than just their jokes. But this was a concept that seven year old Ginny didn’t quite understand yet. “They do it because you react the same way every time.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “They still don’t let me play,” she added as though she was looking for a solution for that problem too. 

“So make them,” he told her. “Show them that you are just as strong as they are, and then, they will have to let you play with them.”

“How do I make them?” She asked. 

He lifted his shoulders, gritting his teeth as he inhaled. “You are a smart girl, Ginny. You will eventually figure it out.”

Her shoulders straightened as she smiled. She hopped off the seat, running over to the other side of the table to hug him. “Love you, Perce,” she murmured as her arms barely made it around the side of his body. 

He grinned softly. “Love you too, Ginny,” he said. 

Any single one of the brothers would have told her the same thing. Everybody looked out for her. Even when they were being mean, they were still looking out for her—preparing her to take nobody else’s mistreatment. 

*

He finally breathed as he stepped onto the train for the first time in months—months that felt as though they were years. He dragged his trunk behind him as he followed Charlie through the train. “I can still sit with you if you want,” Charlie said to him. 

“Once I find Penelope, I will be fine,” he replied, leaning onto the balls of his feet to see the other people’s heads. Charlie nodded as a response. 

“Oi Weasley!” Both Charlie and Percy swung around in an attempt to find the source of the voice. Percy spotted Myron Wagtail with his hand in the air, waving. “Tonks and Shunpike are back there.” Charlie glanced at Percy. 

“Go,” he told him. “I will be okay.”

“Okay, see you soon, Perce,” he tapped his shoulder as he grabbed onto Percy’s trunk and lifted it over his head so he could get through. Charlie had worked on his muscles all summer. It reminded him of Oliver and how that was something that he never missed about Oliver. The loud music and the constant workouts. Percy expected it to get worse this year. 

Percy watched as his brother disappeared down the hall. Myron smirked, standing at the entrance of the compartment until Charlie had squeezed past him with a glare, lightly shoving him backwards. 

“Perce!” The familiar voice of Penelope Clearwater called out. Recognition and relief took over his body as he found her face further down the corridor. He pulled his trunk along as he made his way to her. “Got our own carriage thankfully. Dad dropped me off earlier.”

“Well, we are somehow always running late every year,” Percy laughed, as his knee pushed his trunk into the carriage, and placed his arm behind him to pull the door closed. 

“Six siblings might be the cause of that,” she joked, and sat down. He gave her a half-shrug shyly. “Oh, I missed you so much, Perce. I was so lonely all summer.”

“Me too,” he replied. “I mean, I missed you. I can’t say I was lonely.”

She chuckled. Then moved on. “So I heard that our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is this woman,” she explained. “Her name’s Patricia Rakepick. She’s an Auror, and she used to be friends with my father back in the day.”

“An Auror?” Percy repeated. “So we will have a decent teacher this year.”

“Actually, I also heard that Doherty didn’t resign,” she told him, leaning forward as though it was a secret. “He was fired .”

“What?” Percy gaped. “Why?” 

“Dunno,” she shrugged. He glared at her. “Well, I just heard my dad talking about it, but he wouldn’t tell me the reason behind it.”

“Must have been really bad, then,” he said. 

“Maybe he got in a relationship with another teacher and there was a bad breakup,” she suggested with a raise of her eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, I can really picture him getting down with McGonagall,” he laughed. 

She giggled, shaking her head. “Professor McGonagall, a cougar,” she said. He smiled, letting his gaze drop to the floor. 

“Can we sit here?” Robert Hilliard asked, pointing between himself and Gabriel. Percy looked at Penelope, waiting for her to react. She rolled her eyes, and squeezed her jaw. “We don’t wanna get stuck with some first years or something.”

“Whatever,” she looked out the window. “We all know you’re here to get information out of us. Spying on us.”

“No, I just—“

“I don’t care,” she threw her arms up, shushing Robert. “Just sit if you have to.”

*

A week had passed since his first return at Hogwarts. Everything was normal. Oliver Wood was still the same, annoying boy as he was before summer, becoming increasingly more annoying as the Quidditch tryouts approached. He had placed a pull up bar on the door, which he couldn’t quite use yet. The fact that it was there in the first place peeved Percy. 

The Slytherin boys were still instigators that attempted to get a reaction from everybody around them. This was a task that they never seemed to fail at. Marcus seemed to become the new leader of the group, and Elton stayed quiet. Every now and then, he would ask how he and Oliver are going, which irritated him more than anything else. He really disliked Oliver. Being referred to as a married couple was beginning to get to him. But Elton was a different person than the boy he met a year ago. 

He and Penelope were still attached to each other at the hip. He thought about how he would prefer for people to joke about him and Penelope as a married couple. It would make more sense than him and Oliver, who could never seem to get through any conversation without a disagreement. 

The loud music played, but it wasn’t the thing that woke Percy up that morning. Percy expected the night before that Oliver would do this early in the morning, so to be safe, he set his alarm for 4:30am . His knowledge of Oliver as a roommate really came in handy as a way to save himself from the annoyingly early mornings and horrible music he played. 

Percy opened the curtains of his bed, finding Oliver doing push ups on the floor. He blinked slowly, trying to rid his mind of that sight. He slowly lifted himself from the bed. He made his way to the bathroom, and gently kicked his foot into the side of Oliver’s body, making him fall onto the ground. 

“Why would you do that?” Oliver rolled onto his back, lying on the floor as he began to replace his pushups with sit-ups. “I have—“

“You have Quidditch tryouts,” Percy finished. “Yes, I think everybody and their mother knows that, Wood. You repeatedly told us that last night. And the night before. And the night before. Oh, and the night—“

“Okay, I get it,” Oliver grunted as he jumped up from the floor, rushing around the room. He flipped to the second tab in the binder, his eyes running along the page. 

Percy sighed. “See how irritating it is when you have to listen to someone repeat something a hundred times.”

“ See how irritating it is when you have to listen to someone repeat something a hundred times ,” Oliver mocked. 

“Real immature,” Percy said. 

“I swear you’ve done that to me before.”

“Oh yeah?” A smile grew on Percy’s face. “Name one time.”

Oliver grimaced. Percy knew whenever his brothers did that to him, his memory was completely wiped. So seeing Oliver stuck, unsure of what to say, was entertaining for him to watch. All he did was sigh out of frustration, grab his broom, and leave. 

To Percy’s dismay, he discovered that Oliver was successful in making the team as Charlie hung it up outside the Great Hall. And there was no way he could ever forget it, especially with Oliver constantly mentioning it whenever there was a single moment of silence. 

*

Percy looked forward to his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year. But he also felt anxious. What would it be like? What would the professor be like? He prayed for a miracle, and a teacher that was more competent than Professor Doherty. Anyone who taught every lesson, and didn’t pick out favourites, would be an improvement. Plus, it brought him comfort knowing that Penelope’s father approved of her.

As they sat down, notes were already written at the front of the room with her name scribbled in capital letters. PROFESSOR RAKEPICK. As he lifted his eyes, he was met with an eager woman who was grinning from ear to ear, seemingly barely able to contain her excitement. Percy would hate to be a teacher—having to deal with irritating, loud students all day. They would all seem like copies of Oliver Wood, which was something Percy saw in his nightmares. 

Professor Rakepick wasn’t young, but she wasn’t old either. She wasn’t the type of dinosaur that made classes boring and intolerable. But she wasn’t so young that she didn’t know enough about her field to be shaping a new generation of wizards and witches.

“Hello everybody!” She announced. 

“Hi!” Ivy Violet replied, waving her hand in the air. Percy rolled his eyes. She was almost always in a good mood. People like that were unbearable to him. Terrence, Elton, and Marcus looked between each other with smirks. 

Percy found a spot at the front. He figured that being right in front of teachers would make them remember him. He would be unforgettable—something he so desperately craved. He always wished for an identity outside of his family, and feared falling back in the shadows that he lived in at home. He wanted to be great—the best. 

“Erm,” Professor Rakepick’s eyes searched the classroom. The worst thing she could do was show any fear or anxiety. It would make her fresh meat. Easy to pick on by students, because nobody would respect her enough. “So, I’m Professor Rakepick. I was an Auror, still am really, but Albus asked me, so here I am—I wanted to go over defensive spells.” This earned annoyed groans from around the classroom. “Oh?”

“We had to write about five essays on that last year,” Penelope placed her elbows on the table, hovering slightly above her seat. 

“Yeah, Doherty was a knob,” Peter stated suddenly. Oliver laughed, dropping his head to the table at Peter’s outburst.
 

“Well,” Rakepick grinned. “It will be different this year. Professor Snape and I were speaking, and we agreed that some lighthearted duelling might be the best way to approach this. But I didn’t want to go into it without going over some things first.” She brought a clipboard into her eyeline, chewing on her bottom lip. “Erm, Mr… Ivory ,” she said, “could you name one for me?” She looked back up when nobody replied. Marcus nudged him. Elton was fidgeting with his hands, staring into one spot he was interrupted.

“What?” He spat, glaring at Marcus. Marcus’ eyes widened in annoyance, pointing to the front. The students around them laughed quietly. “Sorry. What’d you ask?”

“Could you name a defensive spell?”

“Protego,” he replied swiftly.

She nodded her head approvingly. “And what does it do?”

“It forms an invisible shield around you,” he explained, “it deflects the minor spells, and it weakens the more powerful ones.” 

“That’s very good,” she told him. His lips pursed as he looked back down to his table. “Okay, Mr Jones,” she lifted her head from her parchment. Peter shot his hand up, drawing her eyes to him. “Oh, yes, the knob one, could you name one?”

“Expelliarmus,” he answered. “Just disarms your opponent.”

“Great,” she said. “Mr Truman.”

“Stupefy,” Gabriel, an uncomfortably kind boy, announced. “Stuns your enemy. That could be a defensive spell, or an offensive spell.”

“Wow,” she sighed with a smile. “Well your essays, at least, proved to be useful.”

“Ask us about anything else, and we probably won’t know,” Terrence called out, resulting in chuckles across the room, even one from Professor Rakepick herself. “Will we get to do the spells? If so, can I start so I can stupefy Marcus?”

Rakepick smiled, dropping her gaze. “You will be getting to use some. Exclusively defensive charms though,” she held one finger up, which made all of Terrence’s previous excitement fade away. She dragged the backboard forward with a swish of her wand. Everybody watched carefully. “On here, you will see the name of the spell and the wand movements you need to do to cast the spell. Please copy it down on some parchment.”

Relief was an understatement. Percy was thrilled to have a teacher who knew what they were doing and what they were talking about, even interacting with the students in a way Doherty never bothered to do. He seemed happy to be in the classroom and always looked as though a weight was lifted from him when the bell rang—Rakepick was enjoying it.

Penelope leaned to Percy, shuffling her chair to him. “Does Ivory seem off to you?” She asked quietly, glancing at him. “Usually he’s so on his toes. He just seems so, I dunno, doubtful ?” She said as though she couldn’t find the right word. 

Percy glanced behind himself, finding Elton, who was copying down the words from the blackboard. He shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. “He is probably hating the fact he is not the favourite anymore,” Percy whispered. Penelope smiled, turning back to her paper as the bell played loudly. Everybody collected their things and waited behind their chairs for dismissal. 

“Professor?” Terrence’s arms shot in the air, grinning. 

“Yes, Mr Higgs?” She answered. Somehow, Terrence made every single teacher know his name within five minutes of class time with his absurd statements and no fear whatsoever. 

“When will we get to duel?” He asked. 

“Eager, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea,” he smirked. 

She chuckled. “Well, we will see how everybody else goes with it, and then when everybody is ready, we will be able to do duels,” she looked around, finding the students hanging onto her words. “You’re dismissed. Mr Ivory, can you just stay back a moment?”

Percy swung his back over his shoulders, shoving the people in front of him to continue walking. Elton pushed through the group of people, pulling apart Penelope and Percy, rushing past them, ignoring Rakepick’s request.

“Hey Weasley!” Oliver called out, running up to him and Penelope in the corridor minutes later. Percy paused, glancing at Penelope. “Duelling should be fun. How about this? We verse each other, and when I win, we agree that I’m better.”

“Bold, aren’t you, Wood?” Percy asked when Oliver caught up to him. Peter walked on the other side of Penelope. “There is no way you could beat me in a duel. Your talent is, what, throwing a Quaffle around on a pitch, and calling it a sport.”

Oliver gasped like he usually did whenever Percy insulted Quidditch. He played right into it almost every single time without fail. And it entertained him every time without fail. “Quidditch is the pride and joy of the Wizarding World, Weasley. It brings people together.”

Percy sighed. “I do not care, Wood,” he shrugged. 

Oliver rolled his eyes, rolling his neck. He tilted his head as he found Percy again. “So, duel?” 

“Oh, I would not miss it,” he replied. “I could never turn down the opportunity to beat you in yet another thing.” 

“Hm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Weasley,” he tapped his shoulder, raising his eyebrows as he walked backwards. Peter sped walked to catch up to him, throwing his arm around Oliver to turn him around. 

Percy was prepared to jump into this duel. He didn’t have any doubts in himself or his ability in comparison to Oliver’s. Oliver, to his credit, had his talents whether Percy liked it or not. To Percy’s pleasure, he had his own, and they happened to be casting spells.

“How good is she?” Penelope pointed out, reaching out as she linked her arm around Percy’s. 

“Much better,” Percy nodded sagely. “And Wood is a complete knob.”

“Oh yeah,” she agreed. “Dunno why he’d believe he could beat you in a duel.”

“That is just good old fashioned delusion,” he winked. Delusion seemed to be something that clouded Oliver’s judgement regularly. Delusion that led him into believing that what they had was a rivalry, when to Percy, it was Oliver trying to compete with a person who was always going to be better than him. 

*

Snape and Rakepick stood on the platform that stretched across the Great Hall. The limited number of second years stood around the stage, beaming as they watched the two professors prepare for the lesson. Penelope and Percy leaned onto the stage, while Oliver stood right behind him. Percy could feel his warm breath on the back of his neck, which was a pestilential act in itself. 

Percy’s eyes stayed glued to his professors. An expression that he didn’t recognise on Snape grew on his face. He could only assume that it was a smile. But he couldn’t be sure. Maybe they were friends all those years ago and reminded his glum teacher of his youthful days. Percy doubted he ever had that. 

“Hello everybody!” Professor Rakepick announced loudly to the class. “I am accompanied by the one and only, brilliant, Professor Snape who has agreed to assist me in this lesson.” He stared at the floor with pure happiness. 

Finally, Percy had a chance to detach Snape from the title he had referred to him as all those years—As a professor who never had a life outside of these walls, he thought. But when he saw the grin on his face, he saw a younger boy. One that roamed these halls once before with the same youthful innocence and naivety that everybody in his class had. It was always interesting to be smashed in the face with a reality he hadn’t considered before. 

Snape, clearly, had friends. People that he cared about. Even people that he laughed with. Maybe he was so bitter because he spent the majority of his time crowded by children and never people he could form real connections with. 

“Sir,” Terrence put his hands on Marcus’ shoulders, pushing himself up. Marcus stumbled forward, unable to hold all of his weight. “Didn’t you create a spell once?” 

“I cannot imagine what would make you think that, Mr Higgs,” he replied shortly. Terrence’s eyebrows screwed up, throwing himself off Marcus. He folded his arms as the two other boys pushed him teasingly. “Would you like to continue, Professor Rakepick?” 

“No, the stage is yours,” she stepped back with a gracious smile. 

He watched for a moment as though he was waiting for her to say she was joking. But she never did. She gestured to the centre of the stage, encouraging him to the middle. 

“Kinda cute,” Penelope whispered. “Professor Snape in his element.”

“I hardly think Snape having friends is being in his element,” Percy murmured. Penelope giggled. 

“Ready to lose, Weasley?” Oliver leaned forward with his head between Penelope and Percy. 

Percy glanced back and smirked. “I know I am not going to,” he said back, attempting to simultaneously listen to Snape, while replying to Oliver to let him know that he would do everything in his power to crush him. 

“Okay, get into partners and form lines on each side of the stage,” Snape explained. “You must be on the opposite side of your partner. And preferably, choose someone that you don’t tend to work with very often. That goes for you three boys, Mr Higgs, Flint, and Ivory.”

“Not fair, sir—“ Terrence began but was promptly hushed by Snape. Percy laughed, looking over to Penelope who was already looking at him, chuckling herself.

“Well, Weasley, prepare to be destroyed,” Oliver patted his back, placing his hand out. Percy rolled his eyes. 

“Who am I supposed to go with?” Penelope whined with her eyes switching between Oliver and Percy. 

“We could partner up,” Peter offered, shrugging shyly. “Since Oliver is ditching me.”

“It’s for the purpose of humbling Weasley,” Oliver said as though it was the greatest defence he could ever come up with. Peter shook his head carelessly. “See you soon, Weasley.”

“Let’s hope not too soon,” Percy replied, swinging his arm around Penelope to make their way to the opposite side of the stage. Percy glanced behind him, watching as Oliver strutted away. Suddenly, he felt a wave of excitement at the chance to throw whatever spell he’d like at Oliver—the teachers may not like it, but he knew the Slytherin boys would do something stupid before anybody else got the chance to first. 

Terrence partnered up with Ivy Violet. Elton, very reluctantly, approached Eleanor. Marcus was the luckiest out of three, and scored Gemma, their friend, as his own. The three of them looked pleased enough to at least wait in the queue together. 

Elton winked as he pushed in front of Percy, which was good enough for him. Going first was always humiliating, so for once, he was grateful for Elton’s arrogant tendencies. He glanced back at Percy, “throwing spells at each other doesn’t seem like an extraordinary way of moving past your marital problems, Weasley. Maybe you should rethink this.”

“Oh, no, I imagine that it will allow me to use my anger against him,” Percy replied. Elton’s lips curved into a smirk again. 

“Not healthy at all,” he murmured. “Anger gets you nowhere when you love someone.” 

“I do not love him,” he grunted. “Wish I partnered up with you, so I could curse you without any punishment.”

Elton sniggered, folding his arms over his chest. “Wow, Perce, now whatever would your sweetheart, Wood, think about this?” He asked, fully aware of how much Percy hated when they used the nickname his family gave him. Percy sighed out of frustration, tightening his grip around his wand. “Settle down. Wouldn’t want to ruin the fun before it starts.”

“I think the fun would be watching you eat slugs,” he said. 

Elton laughed. “Go on. Try it.” Percy froze. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Percy stayed silent as the first two people climbed onto the stage. Ivy and Terrence. Terrence was smirking, his head and shoulders hanging high with false confidence. Snape leaned down to her, telling her exactly what she should do—the three spells they were allowed to use were the ones named in class, but were able to skip over Protego, because it was beyond the skills of a second year. 

Terrence steadily lifted his wand up, while Ivy’s hand softly shook. He bent his arms, beginning to sound a word out, but before he had the chance to finish it, he was thrown back into the air on the foamed area of the stage. “Stupefy!” She yelled before he was sent flying back. Snape nodded his head approvingly. Although Rakepick wasn’t on their side, she clapped for her, jumping up and down. 

Next Marcus and Gemma went. They were both gifted with spells, so it took the two of them slightly longer to successfully hit any spell directly at each other. This excited Professor Rakepick and Professor Snape even more, seeing their students completing the task in the way they were hoping. 

Now was the moment of truth for Percy. It was Eleanor and Elton. Eleanor Williams, despite a year of sharing every class, still remained a mystery to Percy. The way she confused the hat in a way it had never been before, how exactly she got those scars that covered her body, how if she could stump the hat, created by the greatest wizards ever known, what else could she do?

She stepped onto the stage. Elton glanced at Rakepick, who smiled in encouragement. He aimed his wand at her, trembling. “Stupefy!” He yelled, but he was only sent backwards as though the spell had hit him instead of her. Eleanor’s eyes were closed as she held whatever spell—it was Protego. Elton climbed back up. He didn’t take his loss so well, rolling his eyes as he jumped off the large cushion. 

Percy was up next so he didn’t pay close attention to whatever praise she was giving to Eleanor. He was running all the scenarios in his mind, thinking about all the ways he could beat Oliver, and destroy his annoyingly large ego. So far, Snape’s side had managed to win every time, but Percy would make a comeback for his team . 

He thought of spells, hexes, and jinxes, revisiting all the ones he had ever heard of. He knew many of them bordered on dark magic, and he didn’t want to be the first to misbehave, or ruin the exercise. But he was too blinded by his hatred for Oliver to make any decision against this idea.

He could see the satisfaction on the boy’s face. How he was looking forward to this. And despite Percy’s confident exterior, he knew that he was nervous now. Oliver lifted his wand, holding it up. “Impedimenta,” Percy yelled, shooting the spell right into Oliver’s chest. 

Oliver stumbled backwards, his legs losing all of their strength. After Percy thought this may be the end, glancing at Rakepick, she gave him a thumbs up. Snape said something to Oliver, who took a few moments to recollect before standing again. “Rictusempra!” He shouted, glaring at Percy. This was a spell that Percy never considered that Oliver would use, causing him the overwhelming feeling of amusement and uncontrollable laughter. Oliver arched an eyebrow in satisfaction. 

Percy tried to stop, but the spell made it impossible. Rakepick was about to step in to put an end to it, but there wasn’t any way Percy would allow Oliver this victory. No way. “Taran—Tarantallegra!” He called out through his laughs, which only caused him to laugh even more, watching as Oliver’s legs danced around him. 

“Ex—Expelli—“ Oliver began. 

“Expelliarmus!” Percy said before Oliver could finish the word. His wand flew out of his hand, and dropped to the floor. Snape flicked his wand, causing Oliver’s dancing feet to stop, and Rakepick did the same, stopping Percy’s uncontrollable laughter. 

“Well,” Rakepick looked between the two boys. “That was interesting.” Oh no. He was going to be sent to McGonagall’s office. She glanced at Snape who raised his eyebrows in agreement. Oh no. “And quite impressive.”

“What?” Percy snapped his head to her. 

“Your knowledge of jinxes,” she went on. “Both of you.”

“But who won?” Percy asked. 

She smiled. “I suppose you disarmed him at the end, so the victory is yours, Mr Weasley.”

His hand formed into a fist punching the air below his hip subtly. He glanced back at Oliver, who rolled his eyes and returned back to his own line. Percy found Penelope’s eyes that were lit up, with a beam across her face. “Good job, darling,” she brushed his arm as he passed her smugly. He hoped, as her turn was next, she would also beat Peter. 

A very kind boy. But nonetheless, Oliver’s friend. Any loss that Oliver had was a victory for Percy in itself. 

“Okay, Clearwater, the essay hater, and Jones, the knob one,” Rakepick proceeded to move on. Percy was surprised at her reaction. That she was impressed rather than disappointed that they abused their opportunity, playing against the rules. “You have a tough act to follow.”

“Well, I’ll try my best,” Penelope replied with a grin. Percy stayed at the front of the line, watching her. 

Peter appeared rather pale, his hands trembling as he hesitantly made his way up the stairs, full of fear just as the sight of Penelope with her wand at the ready. Professor Snape encouraged him, softly nudging him forward. 

Percy found Penelope’s expression. It was as though she felt sorry for him. No. Don’t feel sorry for him. Beat him, and the victory will forever be ours to hold over their heads , he thought, hoping Penelope wouldn’t go purposefully easy on him. 

His hands shook as he placed on foot forward, preparing for anything. He wasn’t throwing the first spell. Penelope mirrored his body language, lifting her wand with a sudden determined look on her face. 

He began to speak, but was quickly interrupted by Penelope’s agility and strength. “Stupefy!” She said, sending the spell right into Peter, throwing him into the cushion. She smirked smugly and proudly. Peter slowly sat up, pushing his hands against the massive pillow. 

Petr stared at her. Percy didn’t quite know what he was feeling. But based on his expression, he assumed it was an annoyance that he lost. The remainder of the period, Peter never ripped his eyes away from her, even on different sides of the hall, he watched her. Percy, then, figured that it was admiration, impressed at the skills she finally had the chance to display. 

*

Penelope, somehow, dragged Percy to the Quidditch Pitch for the first game of the school year. He fought against it repeatedly, but when Penelope asked something of him, he had a difficult time saying no, especially with her persistence and determination.

It would be nice to see his brother playing the sport that he loved as the leader of the team. But he didn’t care for anybody else. He attempted to watch the game, but didn’t quite understand the rules. Many shot out of their seats as a bludger was bolted at Oliver’s head, causing him to fall off his broom without the first two minutes. 

Luckily, Gryffindor didn’t have to worry too much about having no keeper, because Charlie caught the snitch before Slytherin scored too many goals, which Percy couldn’t grasp quite yet, nor did he care enough to ask any questions and find out. 

The next week was different to the weeks he had lived in the past. He had to say that it was peaceful without Oliver’s irritating voice echoing everywhere he went. It was annoying, listening to the Slytherin boys, asking him if he’s worried about his boyfriend.

Really, Percy was enjoying Oliver’s absence for the first few days. But he found that Oliver’s presence was more prevalent in his life than he had previously thought. There was no one annoying enough to motivate him further to get out of the room early in the morning. And he hated seeing Oliver’s unmade bed every morning. It triggered something inside his brain and annoyed him beyond belief. 

He and Peter never spoke much, and they never started in the time that Oliver was in the hospital wing. He isolated himself even more without his only friend by his side. Percy felt bad for him, but never had enough to invite him into his and Penelope’s exclusive circle. 

One night, he believed it was a week after Oliver’s admission into the hospital wing, he was standing over the bathroom basin, brushing his teeth before bed. Peter was scribbling on a piece of parchment, copying down Percy’s that he had generously allowed him to borrow before its due date the following day. 

The door of the dormitory swung open, and in the frame stood Oliver Wood. Percy rolled his eyes, but Peter jumped out of the bed, throwing his arms around Oliver, thankful to see him again. 

“What’s this?” Oliver asked after his greeting to Peter. He picked up the parchment, belonging to Percy. Oliver gasped and shook his head at Peter. “I leave for one week, and you fraternise with the enemy. Disappointing, Jones. Just disappointing.”

“Hello Wood,” Percy smirked as he climbed into bed. Oliver turned around, not quickly, taking his time as if he knew he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “I cannot wait for the next Quidditch match. You were right, it was quite entertaining.”

Oliver took no pleasure in Percy’s comment, because he knew what he was commenting on—the fact he had been knocked off his broom. “How was last week?” Oliver asked both boys. 

“Horrible,” Peter said as though he was distraught.

“Peaceful,” Percy added. “You should get knocked off your broom more often.” 

“Haha,” Oliver spoke sarcastically. 

“Really,” Percy continued with seriousness. “I hope you get another bludger to the head, so I can live another peaceful week.”

“I hope I do, too,” replied Oliver. Percy lifted his eyebrow. “So I don’t have to see you for another blissful week.”

Instead of arguing, the two boys shared a smile between each other.

“You two are so weird ,” Peter commented with a shrug of his shoulders, returning back to the homework he had to finish.  

It was an unfortunate revelation, really, but Percy was glad Oliver was back. Despite being gifted in their own areas, they really were rivals, and Oliver encouraged Percy to be better every single day. Nothing motivated Percy more than the chance of beating Oliver at something.