Chapter 7
Care of Magical Creatures
"So what do you think Dumbledore wants to talk to you about?"
"Haven't a clue. Pass the kibble." Oliver handed Percy a bucket.
"Here. You're not worried?"
"Why would I be? I haven't done anything wrong. I'm Head Boy for Merlin's sake. I am the rules. How can I break them?" Oliver threw his head back and laughed, startling this week's ferocious fuzzy. It snapped at him but missed, grabbing some kibble instead, pacifying it. Oliver didn't notice. Marcus, who had seen, glared at him.
"Anyway, hurry back afterwards. Defense against the Dark Arts has been canceled. Lupin's sick again."
"Oh?" Percy raised an eyebrow, "really?"
"Yeah. Heard it from the twins." Marcus wandered over to grab some more kibble for his creature, going closer to hear the lowered voices of the new lovers. "Seems like everybody will be down by the lake today as well."
"Oh?"
"Yes."
".good."
"Definitely."
Marcus' jaw twitched as he lifted the bucket. That was something he wished he had never heard. Then something clicked in his brain. Oliver would be in the common room while Percy wandered the hallways alone. A sneer fixed itself across his face as he returned to his beastie. All he had to do was wait.
Dumbledore's office
Hello Mr. Weasley. Please, sit down. Lemon Drop?" Percy shook his head, declining as he sat down. "Do you know why you're here?" Percy shook his head again.
"No, headmaster. Penny only told me that you wished to speak to me." Dumbledore nodded.
"Yes, well, Professor McGonagall came to me with some concerns about you a few weeks ago. I decided to look into it and I have decided that she was correct in her concern. "You haven't been behaving normally. You're sleeping in class, late to or missing Prefect Meetings, prone to staring blankly, going outside in rather nasty weather."
"Weather is never nasty." Percy said hotly then bit his tongue. He had just talked back to the Headmaster. But Dumbledore just smiled.
"I thought as such." Dumbledore reached down to pick up a scroll from his desk. "Do you like to fly, Percy? On a broom I mean." Percy shook his head.
"Not on a broom, so sit. It feels so unnatural. Why sir? Is there another way?" Dumbledore showed him the scroll.
"Four you there is a distinct possibility. Read this," he gestures at the scroll, "and tell me if any of it sounds familiar. Percy opened the scroll and started to read.
Weather Magi - one of the ancient and powerful magi. The weather magi have an innate love and relative control and understanding of the weather. From an early age they love to be outside. If denied their storms and weather at that tender age, it will result in sickness, depression and eventual dementia and death.
'The safe houses,' thought Percy.
.If gone unchecked, it will be irreversible by the age of 23. All problems gained before training begins will work themselves out with time as long as training continues. The last known Weather Mage is Mikhail Androvich and currently resides in Siberia with his brother and anchor, Nikolai.
Percy folded up the scroll, his face pale. "Mr. Weasley? Are you alright?" Percy rubbed a hand across his face.
"That might as well have been written about me," Percy confessed. Dumbledore nodded. "Does this mean I'm a.a."
"Weather Mage? You have the potential, certainly. You won't be a true mage until your training is complete. I will owl Mikhail tonight and tell him about you. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have a pupil. I must warn you to keep this quiet, however. Mages are very rare and you will be hunted." Percy nodded.
"Yes sir. I can keep a secret."
"I know you can, Mr. Weasley, I know."
Random Hogwarts Hallway
Percy wandered down a random hallway, his mind on his future and his very nature, rather than where he was or what was around him.
"Hello Weasley." Percy prided himself in the fact that he didn't jump when Marcus spoke.
"Flint," he replied, his voice cold. Marcus smirked at him from his position against the wall. He was standing in what had been dubbed the 'classic male hooker pose.' One leg was bent up against the wall, and his robes were open. His thumbs were hooked inside his belt loops and he wasn't wearing a shirt. It was sad that such a wonderful body had such an ugly face. His head was lowered with heavily lidded eyes. All he really needed was a cigarette, a street corner, and a lamp post.
"You seem a little lost. Need help?" He raised his head.
"I don't need anything from you, Flint." He started to walk away, but all that quidditch practice made Marcus' s reflexes sharp and he was able to catch Percy before he ran. If he ran, Marcus would never catch him. The red head was fast. Marcus grabbed Percy's arm.
"Oh, I think you do." Percy rolled his eyes.
"Oh please, Flint." He jerked his arm. "Let go." Flint tightened his grip.
"No, I don't think I will. You see, Percy," Percy flinched at the use of his first name. "You have something I want."
"You're crazy Flint. I don't have anything you want."
"Is that what Wood sees in you? Your modesty?" He put his foul mouth close to Percy's ear. "Or is it just that you give great head?" Percy stiffened.
"What do you want Flint?" Flint walked Percy backwards before he answered, trapping against the wall with his hand. He took a deep breath, obviously smelling his captive. At his sides Percy's hands were balling into fists. Images of the last time he was in this position ran through his head. That would not happen again! Marcus was still talking.
"Do you like it rough Weasley? You want me to tie you down? Make you beg?" Percy's jaw clenched and Marcus' smile turned truly evil. "You'll be begging by the time I'm done with you." He leaned foreword and Percy turned his head, making Flint miss.
"You'll pay for that." Flint reached up and grabbed Percy's chin, holding him in place. Marcus' lips came crashing down, biting, brusing, drawing blood.
It happened quicker than thought. One moment Flint was kissing him, the next he was hitting the wall, dazed and confused, the center of his chest burned and smoking. The scent of ozone filled the hallway. From his place near the wall Percy was shaking with fury.
"Don't ever touch me again," Percy growled, his voice soft and deadly. "If you ever come near me again I'll make sure you never reproduce!" With the swish of his robed and a gust of air, Percy left the hallway.
TBC
Care of Magical Creatures
"So what do you think Dumbledore wants to talk to you about?"
"Haven't a clue. Pass the kibble." Oliver handed Percy a bucket.
"Here. You're not worried?"
"Why would I be? I haven't done anything wrong. I'm Head Boy for Merlin's sake. I am the rules. How can I break them?" Oliver threw his head back and laughed, startling this week's ferocious fuzzy. It snapped at him but missed, grabbing some kibble instead, pacifying it. Oliver didn't notice. Marcus, who had seen, glared at him.
"Anyway, hurry back afterwards. Defense against the Dark Arts has been canceled. Lupin's sick again."
"Oh?" Percy raised an eyebrow, "really?"
"Yeah. Heard it from the twins." Marcus wandered over to grab some more kibble for his creature, going closer to hear the lowered voices of the new lovers. "Seems like everybody will be down by the lake today as well."
"Oh?"
"Yes."
".good."
"Definitely."
Marcus' jaw twitched as he lifted the bucket. That was something he wished he had never heard. Then something clicked in his brain. Oliver would be in the common room while Percy wandered the hallways alone. A sneer fixed itself across his face as he returned to his beastie. All he had to do was wait.
Dumbledore's office
Hello Mr. Weasley. Please, sit down. Lemon Drop?" Percy shook his head, declining as he sat down. "Do you know why you're here?" Percy shook his head again.
"No, headmaster. Penny only told me that you wished to speak to me." Dumbledore nodded.
"Yes, well, Professor McGonagall came to me with some concerns about you a few weeks ago. I decided to look into it and I have decided that she was correct in her concern. "You haven't been behaving normally. You're sleeping in class, late to or missing Prefect Meetings, prone to staring blankly, going outside in rather nasty weather."
"Weather is never nasty." Percy said hotly then bit his tongue. He had just talked back to the Headmaster. But Dumbledore just smiled.
"I thought as such." Dumbledore reached down to pick up a scroll from his desk. "Do you like to fly, Percy? On a broom I mean." Percy shook his head.
"Not on a broom, so sit. It feels so unnatural. Why sir? Is there another way?" Dumbledore showed him the scroll.
"Four you there is a distinct possibility. Read this," he gestures at the scroll, "and tell me if any of it sounds familiar. Percy opened the scroll and started to read.
Weather Magi - one of the ancient and powerful magi. The weather magi have an innate love and relative control and understanding of the weather. From an early age they love to be outside. If denied their storms and weather at that tender age, it will result in sickness, depression and eventual dementia and death.
'The safe houses,' thought Percy.
.If gone unchecked, it will be irreversible by the age of 23. All problems gained before training begins will work themselves out with time as long as training continues. The last known Weather Mage is Mikhail Androvich and currently resides in Siberia with his brother and anchor, Nikolai.
Percy folded up the scroll, his face pale. "Mr. Weasley? Are you alright?" Percy rubbed a hand across his face.
"That might as well have been written about me," Percy confessed. Dumbledore nodded. "Does this mean I'm a.a."
"Weather Mage? You have the potential, certainly. You won't be a true mage until your training is complete. I will owl Mikhail tonight and tell him about you. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have a pupil. I must warn you to keep this quiet, however. Mages are very rare and you will be hunted." Percy nodded.
"Yes sir. I can keep a secret."
"I know you can, Mr. Weasley, I know."
Random Hogwarts Hallway
Percy wandered down a random hallway, his mind on his future and his very nature, rather than where he was or what was around him.
"Hello Weasley." Percy prided himself in the fact that he didn't jump when Marcus spoke.
"Flint," he replied, his voice cold. Marcus smirked at him from his position against the wall. He was standing in what had been dubbed the 'classic male hooker pose.' One leg was bent up against the wall, and his robes were open. His thumbs were hooked inside his belt loops and he wasn't wearing a shirt. It was sad that such a wonderful body had such an ugly face. His head was lowered with heavily lidded eyes. All he really needed was a cigarette, a street corner, and a lamp post.
"You seem a little lost. Need help?" He raised his head.
"I don't need anything from you, Flint." He started to walk away, but all that quidditch practice made Marcus' s reflexes sharp and he was able to catch Percy before he ran. If he ran, Marcus would never catch him. The red head was fast. Marcus grabbed Percy's arm.
"Oh, I think you do." Percy rolled his eyes.
"Oh please, Flint." He jerked his arm. "Let go." Flint tightened his grip.
"No, I don't think I will. You see, Percy," Percy flinched at the use of his first name. "You have something I want."
"You're crazy Flint. I don't have anything you want."
"Is that what Wood sees in you? Your modesty?" He put his foul mouth close to Percy's ear. "Or is it just that you give great head?" Percy stiffened.
"What do you want Flint?" Flint walked Percy backwards before he answered, trapping against the wall with his hand. He took a deep breath, obviously smelling his captive. At his sides Percy's hands were balling into fists. Images of the last time he was in this position ran through his head. That would not happen again! Marcus was still talking.
"Do you like it rough Weasley? You want me to tie you down? Make you beg?" Percy's jaw clenched and Marcus' smile turned truly evil. "You'll be begging by the time I'm done with you." He leaned foreword and Percy turned his head, making Flint miss.
"You'll pay for that." Flint reached up and grabbed Percy's chin, holding him in place. Marcus' lips came crashing down, biting, brusing, drawing blood.
It happened quicker than thought. One moment Flint was kissing him, the next he was hitting the wall, dazed and confused, the center of his chest burned and smoking. The scent of ozone filled the hallway. From his place near the wall Percy was shaking with fury.
"Don't ever touch me again," Percy growled, his voice soft and deadly. "If you ever come near me again I'll make sure you never reproduce!" With the swish of his robed and a gust of air, Percy left the hallway.
TBC