Chapter 2
Oliver sat in the common room, staring into the flames. Percy's behavior worried him and he knew, no matter what was said to him, that he would never, could never, forget. There wasn't a memory charm strong enough.
The other Gryffindors came and went, leaving Oliver to his thoughts. 10 minutes passed. 15 minutes. 20 minutes. 25. Oliver was never known for his patience. After half an hour he stood and went back to his dorms he shared with Percy.
Percy, meanwhile, started to change out of his wet things. The shirt came off and was laid on the bed. The jeans, socks, and boxer-briefs soon followed. With the swipe of his wand his clothes were once again bone dry. As if to remind him of the difference, his hair dripped onto his nose, then his chest, and lay flat and wet across his forehead and neck. He started to walk to the bathroom for a towel, the mirror catching his eye. Once again he stood transfixed in the middle of the room by his reflection.
His skin was pale, very pale, the color of milk, and the cold and veins underneath had given it a blue tinge. His skin had always been that albino shade of white, even as a small child. As a result the trademark freckles and hair of the Weasley clan stood out sharply instead of adding color to his appearance.
His eyes were hidden behind the reflection of his glasses, but he knew what color they would be; sky blue with a hint of gray, or was that gray with a hint of blue? He wasn't really sure. All he knew was that they changed every time he saw them.
He was always thin; tall and lanky, like his father, but now he was more skeletal. His appetite had dropped off about the time he had stopped sleeping, depending on caffeine pills to keep him awake at night. He would sit in the common room, blankly staring at the fire with wired-open eyes. He soon started to stare at his professors the same way, but they didn't notice. Nobody ever noticed him. Nobody but Penny, but she was a girl. She didn't count. Oliver.Oliver only thought he cared but Percy knew better.
Then, across his upper arms and shoulders the scars shown pink, white, and raised against the blue, a spider-web of pain and anger. Anger at himself, his family, his classmates, the world. He must have been pretty upset for the scars to show themselves. For a moment he wished that he had his knife, but it passed in a moment. He knew, logically, that he was better off leaving it at home over the school year.
He tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked disdainfully at the robes on the edge of his bed. His gaze once again shifted to the closed window where he could still see the rain pouring down. He needed to be out in that rain. He would give anything to be out in that storm.Without much thought on his part, as his mind was already made up, Percy re-donned his clothing from before shrugging into his robes. Adjusting his glasses and combing his hair back he once again looked the part of the perfect prefect he pretended to be. The mask was back in place, for however temporarily.
He walked over and pulled open the door, revealing an Oliver poised to nock. Percy's face was stone as he brushed past his only dorm mate.
"Were are you going?" Oliver asked to Percy's retreating back.
"The Library," Percy muttered, and continued on his way.
( ( ( ( (
Percy walked down the hallway, not seeing anybody, till he got to the junction where if he went one way he would arrive at the library, and if he went the other way, he'd get to the outside. He didn't even pause as he continued to the giant doors and freedom.
They great doors opened with little difficulty as he pushed through. Once clear he tore off his robes and hat as he walked, leaving them torn and muddy on the ground as he was mesmerized by the storm. He walked in the wind and rain, quickly soaked to the bone, but not realizing, or caring. He walked beyond the Quidditch pitch to the hills beyond, where there was open land for miles.
There he stopped, spread his arms wide, and put his face up to the storm. The winds blew around him, the rain caressed him, the lightning excited him and the thunder calmed him. There, in the middle of a rarely visited field, Percy lost himself in the storm.
( ( ( ( (
The next morning dawned bright and clear.outside the castle. Inside, however, Minerva McGonagall was storming. The prefect meeting was scheduled to start at 7. It was now 7:45 and the head boy had yet to show up. At last, she got fed up.
"That's it. This meeting is cancelled. Would somebody please find Mr. Weasley and tell him I want to see him in my office immediately!" The prefects, scared of the livid professor, quickly exited the room.
Outside Percy lay on his side in the damp grass, curled up into a tiny ball. His glasses were lying beside his head. His hair flopped over his forehead when it wasn't plastered there and it fell into his eyes. His one hand was pillowing his head as the other was in a loose fist by his mouth. His clothes had not quite dried from the rain, but they were merely cool, not damp or wet. His lips were parted slightly and his breathing was slow and easy.
A light breeze blew, ruffling his hair as his eyes fluttered open. He sat up, putting in his glasses as the wind blew harder. He sat there, gazing sleepily at the lush green hills. His gaze fell upon Hogwarts.
"Oh, shite!" He cried, jumping to his feet. He'd been out all-night and forgotten about the prefect's meeting that morning. He started to run. He pushed himself to the limit, then a little farther. His long legs were stretched to their fullest. The wind blew against him, slowing him down.
"Stop it, wind," he cried, breathless, a silly gesture, he knew, but he was desperate. "If you're going to blow, blow with me, not against me!" As if the wind could hear him. Apparently it could, for the wind suddenly changed direction to blow behind him, propelling him forward even faster, to the point where he was barely touching the ground before pushing forward again.
As he came upon the school he slowed down. The wind died down as well and his face was red, though he was no longer panting, as if those last few meters weren't run at all. He was almost to the steps when the Gryffindor Quidditch team came out. He quickly ducked behind a piece of random shrubbery. As Head Boy it wouldn't do to be seen in such attire. "But Oliver already." He quickly squashed that train of thought as he watched them leave. 'Wait a minute,' he thought. The meetings always started at 7. Quidditch practice always started at 8. He had already missed the meeting.
"Bloody fucking hell," he muttered quietly to himself. As soon as the team disappeared in the other direction, Percy ran inside. He hugged the shadows, avoiding the few students awake at this time on a Sunday Morning. He had to change into his robes and report to McGonagall before.
"And where do you think you're going Mr. Weasley?" Too late. Percy froze and slowly turned to face the cold anger of Minerva McGonagall.
"Um.well.I was."
"Save it, Mr. Weasley," Percy's face fell and his chin hit his chest, his face red. "I'll see you in my office in ten minutes or it's ten points from Gryffindor. I want an explanation for your actions." He nodded stiffly and she left. Wearily he spoke the password get in and, going up to the dorms, get changed into his robes.
***
McGonagall sat at her desk, thinking. Percy wasn't behaving like he normally did. She had caught him drifting in her class the other day when it was misting. He was staring out the window. Then, he would stare blankly at times, and eat his meals mechanically.but then, she realized, she never saw him ea much. He never took much and what was there he pushed around his plate, not eating. Now, he missed a prefect meeting and she caught him sneaking back inside the castle dressed as a muggle, looking as if he'd been out all night. Something strange was going on, and She was going to find out what it was.
9 minutes and 37 seconds later Percy knocked on her door. She called him in and watched as he traversed the long walkway of her office/classroom. She looked at him. His hair was neatly combed and gelled, and his robes were clean and pressed. The silver Head Boy badge flashed from his chest in the candlelight, and his steps were confident and even. She looked closer. His skin was so pale it was translucent, making his freckles stand out harshly. His glasses reflected the light, blocking his eyes from view, but she was pretty sure they weren't normal. She watched the way his robes moved and realized they hung off him like on a wire frame, swirling about his lower body. There didn't seem to be much filling the robes. Instead of filling out over the years, Percy seemed to stretch, getting taller and thinner, like a piece of taffy.
He stood before her desk and she was surprised how tall he really was. When she stood next to him normally, he seemed much smaller, partly because of her own height. He also seemed to pull into himself, making him look small and unassuming when he wanted to, especially when he was frightened. He was now, and yet he still towered over the desk. 'He must be 2m at least.'
"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Weasley?" She asked, her voice neutral. He squirmed very slightly before clamping down once again with his famous iron control. He answered.
"Yes, Professor."
"Well?" He hesitated, "I'm waiting." He swallowed.
"I truly am sorry about missing the meeting. It was a one time aberration and it won't happen again." He spoke swiftly and stiffly. It was obviously rehearsed." McGonagall sighed. She knew her Head Boy very well, and knew that his Weasley stubborn streak had kicked in and she wouldn't get much more out of him that way.
"You're apology will be accepted Mr. Weasley, if you do one thing for me. Take off your glasses." He was obviously startled but reached up, haltingly to remove those hideous spectacles. His heart was pounding and it was all he could do not to hyperventilate. He gently removed them and held them tightly in his hand as gaze automatically reverted to the floor.
"Look at me." 'No! I can't look! She'll see my eyes! She'll know something is wrong and I can't risk that.' He didn't look up. "Fine, Mr. Weasley, if you want detention." He looked up startled, and she caught his chin, preventing him from lowering his head again. She took in the pale blue eyes, almost white next to the bloodshot whiteness. Under his eyes, also hidden by his glasses were dark bruises from a lack of sleep. She didn't expect this, but wasn't very surprised.
"Percy," She asked, more gently, "What's wrong." He closed his eyes on the tears that sprang, unbidden, to his eyes. He gave a half-hearted shrug with one shoulder. "At least tell me why you missed the meeting." He nodded and she brought him over to one of the desks and sat down next to him. He stared at the floor and when he began speaking it was so soft she almost didn't hear it.
"It all started yesterday afternoon, right before the storm. I was studying in my dorm, the one I share with Oliver, and I couldn't concentrate, it was just too lovely outside. Not many people know this, but I love it outside, and would rather be under a tree than in any library in the world.
"Anyway, I had to get outside, but I couldn't face the other Gryffindirs, I just wasn't strong enough to put up with their intolerance at that time."
"Intolerance?"
"Towards me. They don't like me much. At all. They hate me. But, that's neither here nor there. So I got dressed into my Muggle clothes and went outside to sit under a tree and read or something to the like. I'm afraid I got lost in my thoughts and I got caught outside in the rain. Oliver sow me and dragged me outside, saying I was going to get sick if I stayed out there," he looked at McGonagall then, "I've never been sick due to being out in the rain, even when I was a small child. I don't think I can." Bells and whistles were going off in Minerva's brain.
"Anyway, we had a slight disagreement that, well, it was more of an argument, but anyway, I got really mad and I don't really remember the rest. It's all hazy. I do remember looking at myself in the mirror and climbing the hill beyond the Quidditch pitch, but other than that it's darkness until I woke up this morning in the field beyond the Quidditch pitch."
"Darkness?"
"Well, it's like the middle of a storm at midnight, pitch black and powerful. It's hard to explain." She nodded absently, trying to track down that elusive thought that his story had triggered. Moments passed and she realized he was waiting there expectantly. She pursed her lips.
"Well, go on to breakfast then. And you must eat something, Percy. You're rail thin." Percy nodded jerkily as he stood and left the room, bound for the Great Hall. McGonagall sat back in her chair for a moment before rising. She needed to talk to Dumbledore.
TBC.
I was, am, and will always be, Immortaljedi
PS. All technical stuff is in the first chapter. I won't be repeating it.
Oliver sat in the common room, staring into the flames. Percy's behavior worried him and he knew, no matter what was said to him, that he would never, could never, forget. There wasn't a memory charm strong enough.
The other Gryffindors came and went, leaving Oliver to his thoughts. 10 minutes passed. 15 minutes. 20 minutes. 25. Oliver was never known for his patience. After half an hour he stood and went back to his dorms he shared with Percy.
Percy, meanwhile, started to change out of his wet things. The shirt came off and was laid on the bed. The jeans, socks, and boxer-briefs soon followed. With the swipe of his wand his clothes were once again bone dry. As if to remind him of the difference, his hair dripped onto his nose, then his chest, and lay flat and wet across his forehead and neck. He started to walk to the bathroom for a towel, the mirror catching his eye. Once again he stood transfixed in the middle of the room by his reflection.
His skin was pale, very pale, the color of milk, and the cold and veins underneath had given it a blue tinge. His skin had always been that albino shade of white, even as a small child. As a result the trademark freckles and hair of the Weasley clan stood out sharply instead of adding color to his appearance.
His eyes were hidden behind the reflection of his glasses, but he knew what color they would be; sky blue with a hint of gray, or was that gray with a hint of blue? He wasn't really sure. All he knew was that they changed every time he saw them.
He was always thin; tall and lanky, like his father, but now he was more skeletal. His appetite had dropped off about the time he had stopped sleeping, depending on caffeine pills to keep him awake at night. He would sit in the common room, blankly staring at the fire with wired-open eyes. He soon started to stare at his professors the same way, but they didn't notice. Nobody ever noticed him. Nobody but Penny, but she was a girl. She didn't count. Oliver.Oliver only thought he cared but Percy knew better.
Then, across his upper arms and shoulders the scars shown pink, white, and raised against the blue, a spider-web of pain and anger. Anger at himself, his family, his classmates, the world. He must have been pretty upset for the scars to show themselves. For a moment he wished that he had his knife, but it passed in a moment. He knew, logically, that he was better off leaving it at home over the school year.
He tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked disdainfully at the robes on the edge of his bed. His gaze once again shifted to the closed window where he could still see the rain pouring down. He needed to be out in that rain. He would give anything to be out in that storm.Without much thought on his part, as his mind was already made up, Percy re-donned his clothing from before shrugging into his robes. Adjusting his glasses and combing his hair back he once again looked the part of the perfect prefect he pretended to be. The mask was back in place, for however temporarily.
He walked over and pulled open the door, revealing an Oliver poised to nock. Percy's face was stone as he brushed past his only dorm mate.
"Were are you going?" Oliver asked to Percy's retreating back.
"The Library," Percy muttered, and continued on his way.
( ( ( ( (
Percy walked down the hallway, not seeing anybody, till he got to the junction where if he went one way he would arrive at the library, and if he went the other way, he'd get to the outside. He didn't even pause as he continued to the giant doors and freedom.
They great doors opened with little difficulty as he pushed through. Once clear he tore off his robes and hat as he walked, leaving them torn and muddy on the ground as he was mesmerized by the storm. He walked in the wind and rain, quickly soaked to the bone, but not realizing, or caring. He walked beyond the Quidditch pitch to the hills beyond, where there was open land for miles.
There he stopped, spread his arms wide, and put his face up to the storm. The winds blew around him, the rain caressed him, the lightning excited him and the thunder calmed him. There, in the middle of a rarely visited field, Percy lost himself in the storm.
( ( ( ( (
The next morning dawned bright and clear.outside the castle. Inside, however, Minerva McGonagall was storming. The prefect meeting was scheduled to start at 7. It was now 7:45 and the head boy had yet to show up. At last, she got fed up.
"That's it. This meeting is cancelled. Would somebody please find Mr. Weasley and tell him I want to see him in my office immediately!" The prefects, scared of the livid professor, quickly exited the room.
Outside Percy lay on his side in the damp grass, curled up into a tiny ball. His glasses were lying beside his head. His hair flopped over his forehead when it wasn't plastered there and it fell into his eyes. His one hand was pillowing his head as the other was in a loose fist by his mouth. His clothes had not quite dried from the rain, but they were merely cool, not damp or wet. His lips were parted slightly and his breathing was slow and easy.
A light breeze blew, ruffling his hair as his eyes fluttered open. He sat up, putting in his glasses as the wind blew harder. He sat there, gazing sleepily at the lush green hills. His gaze fell upon Hogwarts.
"Oh, shite!" He cried, jumping to his feet. He'd been out all-night and forgotten about the prefect's meeting that morning. He started to run. He pushed himself to the limit, then a little farther. His long legs were stretched to their fullest. The wind blew against him, slowing him down.
"Stop it, wind," he cried, breathless, a silly gesture, he knew, but he was desperate. "If you're going to blow, blow with me, not against me!" As if the wind could hear him. Apparently it could, for the wind suddenly changed direction to blow behind him, propelling him forward even faster, to the point where he was barely touching the ground before pushing forward again.
As he came upon the school he slowed down. The wind died down as well and his face was red, though he was no longer panting, as if those last few meters weren't run at all. He was almost to the steps when the Gryffindor Quidditch team came out. He quickly ducked behind a piece of random shrubbery. As Head Boy it wouldn't do to be seen in such attire. "But Oliver already." He quickly squashed that train of thought as he watched them leave. 'Wait a minute,' he thought. The meetings always started at 7. Quidditch practice always started at 8. He had already missed the meeting.
"Bloody fucking hell," he muttered quietly to himself. As soon as the team disappeared in the other direction, Percy ran inside. He hugged the shadows, avoiding the few students awake at this time on a Sunday Morning. He had to change into his robes and report to McGonagall before.
"And where do you think you're going Mr. Weasley?" Too late. Percy froze and slowly turned to face the cold anger of Minerva McGonagall.
"Um.well.I was."
"Save it, Mr. Weasley," Percy's face fell and his chin hit his chest, his face red. "I'll see you in my office in ten minutes or it's ten points from Gryffindor. I want an explanation for your actions." He nodded stiffly and she left. Wearily he spoke the password get in and, going up to the dorms, get changed into his robes.
***
McGonagall sat at her desk, thinking. Percy wasn't behaving like he normally did. She had caught him drifting in her class the other day when it was misting. He was staring out the window. Then, he would stare blankly at times, and eat his meals mechanically.but then, she realized, she never saw him ea much. He never took much and what was there he pushed around his plate, not eating. Now, he missed a prefect meeting and she caught him sneaking back inside the castle dressed as a muggle, looking as if he'd been out all night. Something strange was going on, and She was going to find out what it was.
9 minutes and 37 seconds later Percy knocked on her door. She called him in and watched as he traversed the long walkway of her office/classroom. She looked at him. His hair was neatly combed and gelled, and his robes were clean and pressed. The silver Head Boy badge flashed from his chest in the candlelight, and his steps were confident and even. She looked closer. His skin was so pale it was translucent, making his freckles stand out harshly. His glasses reflected the light, blocking his eyes from view, but she was pretty sure they weren't normal. She watched the way his robes moved and realized they hung off him like on a wire frame, swirling about his lower body. There didn't seem to be much filling the robes. Instead of filling out over the years, Percy seemed to stretch, getting taller and thinner, like a piece of taffy.
He stood before her desk and she was surprised how tall he really was. When she stood next to him normally, he seemed much smaller, partly because of her own height. He also seemed to pull into himself, making him look small and unassuming when he wanted to, especially when he was frightened. He was now, and yet he still towered over the desk. 'He must be 2m at least.'
"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Weasley?" She asked, her voice neutral. He squirmed very slightly before clamping down once again with his famous iron control. He answered.
"Yes, Professor."
"Well?" He hesitated, "I'm waiting." He swallowed.
"I truly am sorry about missing the meeting. It was a one time aberration and it won't happen again." He spoke swiftly and stiffly. It was obviously rehearsed." McGonagall sighed. She knew her Head Boy very well, and knew that his Weasley stubborn streak had kicked in and she wouldn't get much more out of him that way.
"You're apology will be accepted Mr. Weasley, if you do one thing for me. Take off your glasses." He was obviously startled but reached up, haltingly to remove those hideous spectacles. His heart was pounding and it was all he could do not to hyperventilate. He gently removed them and held them tightly in his hand as gaze automatically reverted to the floor.
"Look at me." 'No! I can't look! She'll see my eyes! She'll know something is wrong and I can't risk that.' He didn't look up. "Fine, Mr. Weasley, if you want detention." He looked up startled, and she caught his chin, preventing him from lowering his head again. She took in the pale blue eyes, almost white next to the bloodshot whiteness. Under his eyes, also hidden by his glasses were dark bruises from a lack of sleep. She didn't expect this, but wasn't very surprised.
"Percy," She asked, more gently, "What's wrong." He closed his eyes on the tears that sprang, unbidden, to his eyes. He gave a half-hearted shrug with one shoulder. "At least tell me why you missed the meeting." He nodded and she brought him over to one of the desks and sat down next to him. He stared at the floor and when he began speaking it was so soft she almost didn't hear it.
"It all started yesterday afternoon, right before the storm. I was studying in my dorm, the one I share with Oliver, and I couldn't concentrate, it was just too lovely outside. Not many people know this, but I love it outside, and would rather be under a tree than in any library in the world.
"Anyway, I had to get outside, but I couldn't face the other Gryffindirs, I just wasn't strong enough to put up with their intolerance at that time."
"Intolerance?"
"Towards me. They don't like me much. At all. They hate me. But, that's neither here nor there. So I got dressed into my Muggle clothes and went outside to sit under a tree and read or something to the like. I'm afraid I got lost in my thoughts and I got caught outside in the rain. Oliver sow me and dragged me outside, saying I was going to get sick if I stayed out there," he looked at McGonagall then, "I've never been sick due to being out in the rain, even when I was a small child. I don't think I can." Bells and whistles were going off in Minerva's brain.
"Anyway, we had a slight disagreement that, well, it was more of an argument, but anyway, I got really mad and I don't really remember the rest. It's all hazy. I do remember looking at myself in the mirror and climbing the hill beyond the Quidditch pitch, but other than that it's darkness until I woke up this morning in the field beyond the Quidditch pitch."
"Darkness?"
"Well, it's like the middle of a storm at midnight, pitch black and powerful. It's hard to explain." She nodded absently, trying to track down that elusive thought that his story had triggered. Moments passed and she realized he was waiting there expectantly. She pursed her lips.
"Well, go on to breakfast then. And you must eat something, Percy. You're rail thin." Percy nodded jerkily as he stood and left the room, bound for the Great Hall. McGonagall sat back in her chair for a moment before rising. She needed to talk to Dumbledore.
TBC.
I was, am, and will always be, Immortaljedi
PS. All technical stuff is in the first chapter. I won't be repeating it.