All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. And all rights and other stuff to The Lioness Quartet and Wild Magic are copyrighted trademarks and property of Tamora Pierce and Random House. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* And the title was borrowed from a Savage Garden song, The Animal Song, so that belongs to them and the same disc applies.

Pairings: Percy/Penny, eventually Percy/Marcus, Cedric/Oliver
Contents: Angst, Slash, POV, Fluffy (sorta), Het
Spoilers: Yup. Books 2 and up.
Summary: Percy may be a freak, but that's not always a bad thing. That, I think, is the worse summary I've ever come up with.
Status: Incomplete
A/N: In here Oliver is a friend and Percy can be normal around him, or so is my skewed view. And I liked the idea of Percy as a Wild Mage too much that I butchered it. Ruthlessly. Also, this is unbeta-ed. Was originally Percy Weasley and the Dominion Jewel.

*~* Indicates time change

~*~ Indicates scene change

Indicates the voices in Percy's head… rather his recalling past dialogue

Superstars and Cannonballs

Another year, another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It hasn't always been this way; Quirrel was the DADA teacher since my second year, but ever since two years ago, we've gone through as many teachers. A total of four in seven years, that's not a really good record.

I sit next to Oliver, on the opposite side of the room from Marcus. The professor has yet to arrive and all we have of him is a name: Remus J. Lupin. And I can't shake the cancerous dread nagging the back of my mind.

"Oliver, something's not right," I whisper. He looks across to Marcus. "No, not Marcus, our teacher," I correct, trying not to think of Marcus. The seventh year class is much smaller than the rest of the classes in school, and there's a minimum number of students that can be in one class, so we have doubled up with houses that we normally would never come in contact with… At least for that one class. We have a total of three classes with Slyhterins: DADA, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures.

"What about him?" He gives me a quizzical eyebrow.

"I don't know, however, when has a teacher ever been tardy on the first day of classes?"

"Well, there was that one time –" Leave it to Oliver to answer a rhetorical question.

The door opens quickly, silently as a young man, presumably Professor Lupin, slips in. I recognize him from the High Table last night. He can only be a handful of years older than Bill, but his sandy hair is mottled with flecks of grey.

What would make someone so grey at such a young age?

"I'm dreadfully sorry for my tardiness, but I am still recovering from an illness," he explains, dragging himself to the podium. "I'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, R – Professor Lupin. And, I'm sure you're, by now, familiar with attendance on the first day, so – "

Something is off.

My bones and muscles start humming.

"Oliver," I hiss, "something's wrong with me."

"Are you sick?" he whispers back, concerned. I do fall ill often, but this isn't a sickness.

I shake my head as the song in my blood crescendos.

"Mr. Weasley," he addresses me sharply. The tips of my ears burn before I remember that he's taking attendance.

"Present," I reply steadily.

"Mr. Wood?"

"Hi!" Oliver grins insanely.

"Very good," Professor Lupin concludes. "Everyone is present. How about we start the year on a relatively simple note, so none of you hate me too much, just yet." There is some nervous laughter from his audience. "How about covering the properties of the opal? I understand that it was touched upon last year, but no depth was given."

There are a few unhappy murmurs, but no outright objections.

"Good," he smiles, albeit shakily. He then launches into a lecture about protection and shielding and jewelry. I already know all that; I researched it last year when Professor Lockhart had failed to teach us anything.

Opals are magical weapons, like a sword and shield in one. The stone shields a possessor from magical detection and he is also less susceptible to magical attack. This stone is also used as a focus, to channel energy and intensify it.

Hence, I find myself doing something I rarely indulge in: staring off into space and allowing my mind to wander.

My mind focuses on my own body first. My nerves are still on edge; I'll visit Madam Pomfrey later and ask her to explain everything so I can fix it myself and learn for future references.

Next, my mind wanders to the nearest animal. A shrike is perched just outside the window merrily shredding the entrails out of an impaled rodent.

The next creature I have never come across before. His mind is grey, dull, almost tan. But it's organized. No true animal has an organized mind… that I've come across…. Only people have organized minds.

I don't want to be pushing around in his mind and I try to break contract, only he won't let me go; he holds onto my mind and squeezes. Hard.

I gasp involuntarily.

His mind is feral. That's the only word for it… well, maybe synonyms.

I will myself to be free, to be in my own body again, but he doesn't let go.

Well, if he won't let me leave, it wouldn't be bad if I slipped into his mind to see with his eyes. I might even find out what his is. I make the shift slowly and it makes my stomach turn and my nerves tighten. I've only done this once before with Hermes and it did nothing to my physical body except make my eyesight stronger. No, he is nothing like Hermes, gender having nothing to do with it.

Images. A downtrodden dark-haired man. A grim. A stag. Smells: freshly spilt blood.

I slide into his eyes and see… myself? I can even see my glazed eyes widen in surprise as my chest heaves as I fight for the breath I hadn't realize I needed.

"Oliver!" I hear myself whisper frantically. I know it's a whisper, but it sounds like a shout.

I watch as Oliver turns to me as if to ask me an irritated 'what?' and his expression changes to dread as he sees my comatose body.

He then shakes my body fiercely and I feel my mind rip from his mind and back into my own body.

I am very happy as I land back in my body with my mind in tact (I think) and I smile as my lungs labor for air.

"Perce, you ok?" he whispers.

I ignore him for a while. I love the boy dearly, but it's rather irksome to be fighting for breath and someone has the shortsightedness to ask if you're all right. Of course I'm not all right. I was just sucked into something's mind and I still have no idea what!

I force myself to calm. Hysterics would only take my already shallow breathing and turn it into a full-blown panic attack. I've had only one before and it wasn't fun or painless.

I feel like I've been kicked by a porlock.

I quickly scan the room, feeling eyes on me. Much to my relief, none of the students, save Oliver, are watching my embarrassing show. They're all watching the professor; his breathing is as irregular as mine, and his face is flushed.

My stomach flips.

Merlin's beard!

"What are you?" I rasp.

No one hears, as they weren't meant to. I barely even heard myself. No, they're too busy pestering the professor.

"Professor, you're still ill: sit down."

"You should see Madam Pomfrey."

"You look feverish."

"I am fine, I assure you," Professor Lupin raises a hand to stop the babbling. His voice isn't as rough as mine, but still deeper than it was before my foolishness. "Just take the rest of the time as a free period." He looked pointedly at me.

He knows.

I'm doomed. My second day as head boy and I do something so foolhardy! I haven't even had a chance to do any true head boy duties and Professor Dumbledore is going to take away my badge…

"Mr. Weasley, may I please speak with you?" This isn't a question like when he asked about the lesson; this is an order.

Marcus sneers at me.

"Yes, sir." I steal myself as he invites me into his office and closes the door firmly behind us.

"I'm really very sorry," I blurt out. "I had no intention to cause any harm. I didn't even know what I was doing, really."

"Mr. Weasley, please, calm yourself."

I fall silent and the only thing I can hear is my raging heartbeat.

"You had no way of knowing," he says gently. Knowing what? "I'll over look this just this once, but please, for your own safety, please, stay out of my head."

"Yes, sir," I breathe. I don't want to repeat that hellish experience.

What is he? I want to ask him about that, but before I can open my mouth, the bell rings.

"Excuse me." He brushes past me for his next class.

What is he?

~*~

"Percy, what was that?" Just what I don't want. I just came back to my dorm to pick up my Advanced Transfiguration book, not to get all shaky under Oliver's interrogation.

"I honestly don't know." And if I did know, it's not really information I would volunteer.

"Perce, you were hyperventilating!" Thank you for stating the obvious. Boy, I'm in a cynical mood.

"I realize that, but I don't know why." Besides being pulled from my body, a very painful experience, like being squeezed through a tube.

"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey about this…" he suggests, concerned for my well-being.

"What would I say exactly?" I challenge.

"Tell her what happened," he shrugs, at a loss for anything more concrete.

"But I don't know what happened," I lie. I hate lying, I think that it is the foulest deed to deceive someone, but at the moment, I want out. It's not a complete lie though; I still don't know the why and the how. "But I'm fairly certain that wasn't supposed to happen. I should speak with Professor McGonagall about this."

I grab my book before he can ask 'Why McGonagall?' and leave for class.

~*~

I stay after class for my tutoring, starting off by explaining what happened in DADA.

She chastises me, saying that I should mind my own business, to keep my nose out, and to be more careful when I let my mind wander.

She is very strict about it, more than the norm.

Not to sound to ominous, but she's hiding something; I can feel it.

~*~*~*~*~

Sorry for the shortness, but it was the only place I could break it up without going on forever. The next part introduces the Oliver/Cedric pairing, though. ^_~

Thanks for responding!

Demeter: Thanks. ^^ Originally this was going to be a Percy/Oliver fic, but I decided against it because the personalities didn't match up in the way that they were supposed to. *Shutting up before giving away too much*

Sandi: Dude, thanks, I am!

Jen: I'm working on it, I swear! Oh! Now I want amber eyes too!

Rogue: Thank you for your ideas and continuous support. ^-^

Kimagure: Sorry, I used your Percy for a paragraph, but I returned him unscathed, see? *pats him on the head * Yes, this is going to be Marcus/Percy, rather, Percy/Marcus. Eventually. If those two ever get around to it.