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: No more 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: This chapter goes through the GoF quickly, but I needed to get to the good parts. *sniffle*

*~* Indicates time change

~*~ Indicates scene change

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

Superstars and Cannonballs

Working is worse than I had expected. Oh, I had expected it to be harsh, an awakening, what I hadn't even thought about were the people not even bothering to learn my name, making me the gopher, and ignoring me until they can drop work on my lap.

My boss is as incompetent as the current Minister. Things would be better run if Father were Minister, , I'm sure. Although if Father were Minister I'm fairly certain Muggles would know about us within a week of his inauguration. So it would be for the best interest of the Wizarding community that he's not.

I had expected my coworkers to be like my schoolmates and they are, but in some cases, they're even worse. I now know why Ron ran into so much trouble with the Malfoy son, Draco, I think his name is, if he is anything like his father. Lucius is insufferable. He lives to torture both Father and myself. I have yet to discover why, except for deep prejudiced.

I have made a friend with a coworker, for which I am very grateful. Her name is Miss Rigby, but on our first meeting she told me to call her El. She is in an unnoticeable part of the Magical Creatures Depo, I doubt even Mr. Diggory knows her. She talks with me over lunch about animals of all sorts, where to find them, and best of all animagi. She is not one herself, but knows people who are and why they became what they did. It's quite fascinating.

This year is going to be interesting at Hogwarts; it makes me wish that I was still in school. But the Ministry is in a tizzy trying to sort things through. I am actually looking forward to the short break the Quidditch World Cup will provide. Oliver has already owled me, telling me he was going. As if there was any doubt. Cedric is going too, I heard so from his father.

The more I think about those two the more envious I become. I want their good fortune. Instead I'm stuck at a dead-end job and am letting my 'talent' go to waste.

"Weatherby! I want this done before the Cup!" Mr. Crouch barks. "We don't pay you to do nothing."

"Yes, sir," I return, trying to conceal my fatigue. "It will be done before the Cup."

I have been avoiding my report on cauldron thickness for the past two hours. Maybe I should get to work.

The sooner it's done, the sooner I get a break. I don't understand, I've never procrastinated in school and now I'm doing so all the time.

I have two days to finish this… I'll work on it at home.

I place my report in my inbox and it squishes.

Gross! Who would put dragon dung in my –

Twins. Why do I even bother asking? I've come to accept it as some bizarre sign of affection, and my life certainly would be quite dull without the little misadventures caused by them.

Putting aside all notions of cauldron thickness and family, I try one of the exercises Professor McGonagall assigned to me over the summer until I've perfected them.

~*~

"Percy, dear," Mum calls up the stairs. "Either help your brothers set up or go with your father to pick up Harry!"

"I need to finish this report, Mum! Mr. Crouch is expecting it by tomorrow morning!" I return, slouching over my report. I'm having less luck at home than I did at work.

"Just be down for dinner" But of course, so I'm humiliated in front of company. I need a break, though.

"Yes, Mum."

Fred and George pass my room muttering about trying a new invention. Mum will flip when whatever they're planning falls through.

Sighing, I stand in my doorway. "What are you two planning?"

They glare up at me and Fred grunts, "That's none of your business."

"Back to your cage," George demands disdainfully.

My… cage? No. I don't want to be in a cage.

Cages are for animals. Animals don't belong in cages.

I'm more animal than I would ever care to admit aloud.

I don't belong in a cage.

How's that for syllogism.

Maybe I should move out. No, I definitely should move out. I don't want to be trapped. That is the worst feeling I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

That will also allow me to get away from my family.

"Hello!" Fred whistles, waving his hand in front of my face.

I blink.

"Geez, Perce, don't do that," George frowns.

Without responding, I return to my room, closing the door behind me.

~*~

Mr. Malfoy is not making my life any simpler. He became more livid when he found out that here was to be an age limit at the Tri-Wizard Tournament; he wanted his son to enter. And when Harry became a Champion –

That's not the whole of it, I'm sure – the Death Eaters have returned. They were the cause of all of my nightmares when I was under a metre tall. They made their grand reentry with a brutal display of pure cruelty at the World Cup. Malfoy's name was cleared all those years ago, but that doesn't mean anything. Imperius Curse, indeed.

He wants to become Minister. That would be the day to end all days. Literally: he would hand the Ministry over to You-Know-Who on a silver platter.

He dumps even more work on me than Mr. Crouch and I don't even know which branch he works for, certainly not the International Department. I would complain to someone. At someone, but no one would listen, so I don't. Even if I did, no one would believe me either; Mr. Malfoy is untouchable: nothing can hurt him.

And then there's Mr. Crouch. He's taken ill and his owls are the only instructions I have. He must have worked himself sick. So I have taken over his duties as a TriWizard judge. It's nice to be back at school.

As for me, I've managed to find a flat for a modest price and moved into it immediately. I've had very little to spend my money on, so money was not too much of a problem; I only buy food, pay the rent, and help mum with the finances. The only frivolous item I've spent money on was an opal drop for my ear. Professor Dumbledore encouraged me to carry an opal with me at all times, and Bill pressured me into getting an earring, amending it by saying that it attracted women. I figured I'd put them together to make things easier. I got that after I moved out. With the fuss she makes over Bill, I don't even want to think of what Mum would do if she ever finds out. She didn't even want me to move out, saying that I was too young still.

I lie down on my bed that I bought with my money that I earned at my job. The self-gratification is through the roof.

For the second task, the person that Cedric would miss most was Cho, not Oliver. I haven't heard anything from either: Oliver I haven't heard from since the World Cup and Cedric I've been avoiding avidly. In truth, Cedric has a lot on his hands, juggling the TriWizard Tournament, Head Boy duties, Oliver – if they're still involved, Cho, and Skeeter.

And someone is knocking on my door. At least this person is polite enough and not Apparating right into my flat.

And the knocking continues.

Go away, I'm tired.

There is a slight pause in the banging before it continues.

Sighing, I roll out of bed, catching myself with an outstretched arm so I don't crash onto the floor.

"I'm coming!" I tell the knocking impatiently.

I yank the door open, reveling –

Marcus? That is the very last person I would expect.

I fix him with a glare. This had better be good.

"Weasley," he nods curtly. "I need your help. May I come in?"

He needs my help. This guy has spent most of his life making mine miserable and he wants – needs – my help?

I open the door wider and slam it in his face.

Returning to bed, the knocking continues.

Tough. I'm in no mood to deal with his tomfoolery. Ever.

"Weasley!" he howls.

I turn 180, opening up the door again.

"Look, Marcus, I don't know how you found out my address, and quite frankly, I just don't care. But right now I'm exhausted and can't deal with whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into."

"Hear me out, Weasley! Percy!"

I slam the door again cutting off his desperate pleas. I just don't have the energy for this.

~*~

Cedric is dead.

That just doesn't register in my mind. He's dead. I saw him there, lifeless. I never asked him if he and Oliver were still together. I never asked him why Cho was the person he would miss most. I never –

Bugger.

I need to pay a visit to Oliver, to see if he's heard, if he's ok and not trying to kill everything.

I can't believe it. Dead.

I need to find Oliver; I can't let this sit.

I know, I think it will be me.

He was signed onto Puddlemere United… The Daily Prophet lists the schedules for all of the UK quidditch teams.

Magpies… Cannons… Puddlemere: London tomorrow at 14:00…

I guess I'm going to London tomorrow.

~*~

Oliver is sitting on a bench in the locker room, when the guard allowed me in.

"Hello, Ol," I say quietly.

He jumps up, surprised. "Perce?" He's changed.

"Yeah, Ol," I continue the same quite tone.

"I haven't heard of you in forever." Ouch.

"Ministry work." The universal answer, not always correct, but universal. "We've been working that the TriWizard Tournament – "

"Cedric's dead," he states in an expressionless voice.

I wince. I don't know how to respond to that.

"I'm truly sorry – "

"I never told him." I assume that Oliver means that he loved him.

"I – I know."

His head snaps up and his eyes bore into mine.

"No, you don't know," he snarls.

I know I don't. I know that. But he spent seven years of my life helping me and I can't help him the one time he needs my help.

"If there's anything I can do – "

"Get out," he commands flatly.

I stand there, trying to repel his words, willing them to go back in time.

There's nothing I can do.

"Percy, go away!" A tremor passes through his voice.

I've lost him. He's gone. I can no longer relate to him. He's the jock and I'm the nerd.

"Yes," I choke on my self-pity. "If you change your mind – "

"I won't," he clips.

I've never felt so helpless.

Nodding, I Disapparate home, unable to convince him otherwise; he's too stubborn.

*~*

"I've decided to move out, Alanna," he declared solemnly.

"I knew this day would come," she sighed.

"Do you wish to go with me? I picked out a nice flat in Kent, near Downe. It's quite pretty and quaint," he offered politely.

"No, thank you," she shook her head. "I belong here."

"Oh," he said dejectedly, hanging his head.

"I will be here whenever you need me, don't worry; it's not like you're leaving forever." She paused, then added, "You will visit."

"Of course," he bristled.

"Good," she smiles, albeit weakly.

"Thank you, Alanna," he smiled genuinely. "If I could hug you, I would."

"I understand."

And he lost his way.

*~*

Mr. Diggory is thinking about retiring from the head of the Magical Creatures Department. Ms. Rigby is retiring. I don't like it; we were close.

Roger Davies was a prefect when I was Head Boy, but that's all I knew him by. He is now my assistant, taking my job as I take Mr. Crouch's. We've become friends of sorts, casual acquaintances. I don't even want to go into the details surrounding Mr. Crouch's death; I don't even want to think about it, because it was my fault. This presents problems within the Ministry, first Mr. Crouch, now Mr. Diggory; it's upsetting the balance. And Mr. Malfoy is taking advantage of the Ministry distress, trying to, discreetly, push Fudge out of office.

Mr Fudge himself is refusing to believe that You-Know-Who and his minions caused Cedric's death. Funny, I never realized what a bumbling idiot the man is, only after Professor Dumbldore pointed it out to me.

I have not heard from Oliver. It's disappointing, but I fear taking a step toward him again. He's still alive, thank Merlin, but isn't playing quidditch; he's riding the bench.

However, at the moment, the impending war is more important than a shattered friendship.

The French Ministry called a meeting of the neighboring countries to discuss the war. As Head of the International Department, I had to, of course, attend it. Only a select few are to attend: Fudge, Roger, myself, and an Auror.

The meeting itself is more mind numbing than Professor Binn's History class and not nearly as informative. Fudge still has yet to recognize You-Know-Who's revival and it's starting to get to me. He attacks anyone who dares to mention You-Know-Who and I still have to figure out why he's attending in the first place.

Roger is quite, going unnoticed in a corner, but alert.

I, myself, am translating for Fudge. The job is getting monotonous: everyone blames the translator. Why do I have to learn everything that comes my way?

"Necesitamos protección por las mujeres y los niños pronto," the Spanish Minister says animatedly.

"We need protection for the women and children immediately," I translate boredly, twirling a quill in my hand absently.

Roger throws me a contrite smile, which I return. Poor kid, just out of school and he has a war to deal with.

"Was sind – "

The rest of the German sentence is lost as all senses deteriorate, leaving nothing but blinding white light in, I'm assuming, my inner eye. And it hurts.

There is a gemstone in the light, the colour of my eyes, a violet-blue.

Everything is very cold and very white and very painful.

Then everything clears; I can see again; I can hear again. And I'm on the cold floor with a face looming over me.

I blink at it, bringing it into focus: Roger.

"Weasley! What a shock you gave us!" He breathes a sigh of deep relief. "Are you alright now?"

"Yes," I state firmly, more for myself than Roger. "Yes, I'm fine."

He offers me a hand and I take it shakily.

~*~

"That wasn't English," Roger states as we prepare for bed in our joined room at Auberge du Loup.

"What wasn't English?" I ask, thrown.

"What you said after your… spill; it was Spanish… Something like 'See, story ben.'"

"Si, estoy bien?" I ask incredulously.

"That's it!" he says excitedly.

"Don't get too enthusiastic, it only means 'yes, I'm fine.'" I'm not fine, though. My stomach is queasy and my head is throbbing.

"Oh. Are you sure? You still look wan and shaky. Your eyes clear rolled back into your head!" I wince. I did not need to know that.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Roger, we have to do this again tomorrow," I dodge.

"Coward," he sticks out his tongue. That's something Oliver would do. He then crawls into his bed and extinguishes the lamp.

I wait until his breathing evens out before heading downstairs to look over my notes for the next day. Not only do I have to translate for Fudge, but I've also been designated to take minutes.

I am able to get as far as my untimely collapse before the 'why's start to pop up.

It wasn't the Sight, I know that, but it was a vision. I've never had a vision before, however it is too late in my life to gain the Sight; that kicks in around puberty, sixteen, maybe seventeen.

I scowl down at my notes as they grin back up at me. Fudge had reprimanded me fiercely, claiming I had fallen asleep.

Maybe I am ill and delirious…

I'm not really doing too well, though. Ever since the vision of that gemstone, I have yet to go two hours without retching and my head is throbbing. The only problem is the contents of my stomach have been exhausted for over six hours. That and the Bile-Reduction Potion I took was disgorged along with the last of my stomach's contents.

Feeling my stomach lurch, I clasp a hand to my mouth, dashing off to the loo to vomit once again.

Maybe I am cursed. Although I can't remember any curses that involve vomiting bile. Sure, there're slugs and other unpleasant things, but not bile.

Returning to my abandoned notes, after rinsing my mouth out numerous times, I find a dainty saw-whet owl, a letter presented on her tiny leg.

"Good evening, little one," I attempt to smile. "Who sent you?" I stroke her tiny neck with a forefinger, amazed that I could probably fit her in the palm of my hand.

Dragon man. Look be you.

"Charlie?" Now I'm concerned. You came all the way from Romania!

Yes, Shine is being from there. She ruffles her feathers dignifiedly.

"That's quite a way for someone as small as yourself." I immediately regret my words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Is forgiven.

"So what does Charlie want?" I muse, taking the letter from her.

Hello Percy,

I hope this letter finds you well.

"Only Charlie could master that irony," I tell her wryly.

Dumbledore has just called for a meeting Friday night, for those of our talent and therefore required that you and I attend. I hope you are able to escape the Ministry.

I'll meet you outside of the Three Broomsticks at noon.

See you then,

Charlie

He wants me to do this… and Professor Dumbledore needs me to do this. I should pack up and head out… Leave a note for Roger and an apology for Fudge… about family emergencies or whatnot. If Wild Mages and whatever Charlie is called are the secret weapon in this war I need to do this.

Today is Thursday; I need to be there tomorrow –

"I thought you told me to get to bed, and now I find you talking to owls." The sudden voice challenges. Roger. "I guess it is true, what the Slytherins were calling you – " Ouch, that was certainly not needed.

Good that he's here, though. This way I don't have to leave a note.

"I have just received an urgent owl from my brother," I explain, gesturing to Shine – I think that's her name… "I will be leaving tonight and I hope that I shall return by Monday. Tell F – Mr. Fudge that I am truly sorry about this and that blood is thicker than water." I catch my words. "No, don't tell him that last part."

Roger chuckles. I don't care. I've been waiting for a chance to ditch work for the longest time; this actually is a welcomed relief.

Ha! Me, ditching work. Who would have thought they'd live to see the day? I certainly didn't.

I scrawl down a quick note on the back of Charlie's letter along the lines of 'be there' and send Shine on her owl-ly way.

"Roger, I need to be packed and gone. Can you handle minutes? I've gotten as far as…. my c – "

"Where you fell unconscious, nearly suffered a concussion, then stated that you were fine?" he interrupts.

"Yes," I glare disapprovingly. "Right there. And do you think you can handle the translating… I know it's not your strong point, but – "

"I've got it covered, even if I can't speak a word of Spanish." That's worrisome, but I need to help prevent a war and that can't be done with bureaucracy, no matter what Fudge thinks.

"Thank you."

~*~

I Apparate right to my flat and promptly throw up. This isn't a good thing. How am I to attend a meeting if I can't go two hours without vomiting? Maybe I'll stop to see Madam Pomfrey on my way.

Of course I couldn't have made it all the way to the toilet before emptying my already empty stomach, I just had to do it all over my bedroom floor.

I sigh and clean it up with a flick of my wand.

Sleeping is going to be very interesting.

~*~

Charlie is waiting outside of the Three Broomsticks as he had claimed.

"Percy!" he shouts, catching sight of me. He runs up, embracing me in a crushing, awkward hug.

"Nice to see you too," I gasp out. "Can I breathe now?"

"Oh. Oops." He releases me. It's nice to see him, though; I haven't seen him in over a year. "So, it wasn't difficult to ditch work?"

"It was… unnervingly easy," I reply. I've done it once, who's to say I won't do it again. And it frightens me.

"And it gets easier with time," he winks. Great.

I glower at him over my glasses.

"Whenever you try to look condescending, you always manage to look constipated," he states matter-of-factly. Considering I haven't gotten that far in the digestive process in the past twenty-four hours. "Percy," he's worried now. "Are you getting enough rest? You look really pasty…" I had little sleep last night.

My stomach flips. Not now, I haven't seen him in forever, not now. I hold up my forefinger, indicating for Charlie to wait as I dash into some back alley and heave. This is starting to get annoying.

"Percy!" Charlie gasps horrified. Yes, I had expected him to wait in the middle of the street as I ran, without an explanation, into the back alley.

I square my shoulders, wipe the bile from the corners of my mouth with the back of my hand, and face him.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong?" he demands, deadly serious.

"I think I'm cursed," I reply meekly.

"Idiot!" he barks. "Have you forgotten all you schooling already? Did you even think to mention it to someone? What other symptoms and how long?"

I've never seen Charlie like this before; he's worried about me, but angry with me as well… And he's not losing his composure.

"A migraine for about twenty-four hours," I reply tiredly.

He scowls up at me, setting his jaw.

"I was hoping to stop inside the pub, but we're going to Dumbledore. Now."

He grabs my arm and practically drags me up to Hogwarts.

*~*

"I can't stand 'm!" he announced.

"Who?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Charlie."

"Why?" Her brow furrowed. By now those two should have been getting along.

He snorted. "Never mind."

"Why do you hate him so?" she inquired nonchalantly, but he knew she meant for him to answer.

"He hates me. Why else would he do such horrible things to me? Why else does he encourage the twins to attack me?" he asked viciously.

"You might not see it now, but he means well."

"No," he countered. "No, he doesn't."

"When you're older you'll see," she said knowingly.

"How would you know?" He clasped a hand over his mouth, realizing the words that slipped from his tongue in anger.

"I had a twin," she informed him solemnly.

He caught the past tense and came to a deductive conclusion. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up…"

"That's quite alright, what's past is past and the dead should stay dead."

He had no idea what that meant.

*~*

"Gentlemen, a bit early, aren't we?" Professor Dumbledore gazes at Charlie and me over his glasses.

Frowning, Charlie shoves me in front of Professor Dumbledore. "I should think you would know why we're here, Headmaster."

"Let us see what your brother has to say on his behalf." He looks expectantly at me with those bright eyes.

"I think I'm cursed," I mumble, very embarrassed.

"But his symptoms aren't those that match anything I'm familiar with," Charlie jumps in.

"I see," he says gravely, inspecting me over his glasses as if I were some fascinating Muggle object. "And what was it that triggered this, by that I mean what was happening at the time the symptoms started."

What happened? "I was attending a meeting." I should check on Roger to see how he's doing. "And then I – I fell unconscious." I don't want to prolong this, but I really don't want to say I had a vision; it's really embarrassing.

"Mr. Weasley, please do not beat around the bush."

I can't get out this.

"I had a vision."

Charlie gapes at me. Yes, you heard me correctly.

"As I suspected," he muses. School didn't really focus on visions (with Professor Trelawney as a teacher, it's amazing that visions are even mentioned) and those with the Sight are sent to another school to further their learning. So I slacked, didn't bother to learn about visions, and it comes back to bite me in the arse.

"The only way to cure a vision not caused by the Sight, is to fulfill the vision," Professor Dumbledore says simply, as if it were.

I don't know what the vision was telling me, so how can I fulfill it? I want to ask, but that would be insolent.

"But now, Mr. Weasley, please escort Mr. Weasley to the infirmary. Poppy will know how to alleviate some of your symptoms." Professor Dumbledore's eyes sparkle with humour.

"Yes, sir," Charlie says tersely, marching me out of the Headmaster's office.

~*~

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but there is nothing I can do for you," Madam Pomfrey informs me stiffly.

I'm having a wonderful week and things seem to be improving even more. Such is my luck.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asks anxiously.

"I thought I instructed you to wait outside," she glares at him. "One would think after all these years you would want to stay away from this place, Mr. Weasley."

Charlie grins benevolently. "You know me, always thinking up ways to get sent here – But Percy needs something. Look at him!"

"I can see him quite plainly, Mr. Weasley…. I can give him a nutrient shot to replace the vitamins he's lost," she stares at me in thought. "I suspect his lightheadedness is from malnutrition…. Have you eaten anything in the past few days?"

"No, ma'am," I whisper suddenly very tired, "not since Wednesday night –"

She growls softly in the back of her throat, probably angry that I hadn't told her sooner. She then runs around opening cabinets until she finds what she's looking for: a long, sharp, glaring needle.

I hate needles.

I loathe needles.

I abhor needles.

And such is my luck.

Madam Pomfrey prepares my arm as I dig into my other arm with my nails, peeling the skin in a lovely crescent pattern.

"You're still afraid of needles," she sighs, stabbing me.

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from saying or screaming anything unconventional, looking to Charlie for support. He, on the other hand, is having a nice chat with… I can't see who it is – Fred. He's talking to Fred.

"That wasn't so bad," Madam Pomfrey coos as she patches up my arm and I stare at my brothers… Where's George?

~*~

My headache subsides as the shot takes affect, although my stomach is still unstable. I might even be able to make it through the entire meeting. After talking to Fred, Charlie has not left my side and refuses to look me in the eye or say anything more than a few clipped words at a time.

People start to trickle in: Professor Dumbledore with a large black dog… Professor McGonogall, Professor Lupin, a few I have never seen before… Snape? What would he be – I'm in the right place, right?

That dog is odd, though… He has a mind just like Scabbers: blank… I don't even know what happened to that rat, all I know is that Ron claims he was eaten.

As soon as Snape takes a seat, Professor Dumbledore stands and starts. As long as I don't have to translate or take minutes, I'll be fine.

"Well –"

The door creeks open and a slim but well built man slips through, taking a seat in between Snape and Charlie around the circular table. He's handsome, I'll give him that, with dark features and olive skin…

He sends me an amused smirk.

I finger my earring nervously. He knows me… I can't place him… I'm not that bad with faces, names yes, but not faces.

"Mr. Flint, so nice of you to join us," Professor Dumbledore smiles kindly.

Marcus. That's Marcus?! No, no – more importantly, why?

Marcus nods curtly.

"I assume you all know why you're here," Professor Dumbledore starts. I don't but I'm not about to say so. I just assumed that this was about those of my talent. That doesn't include either Snape or Marcus. And that dog keeps eyeing me. I've never seen an animal react quite like that before – "We are well aware of the loss of Hogwarts' dynamic duo, but I fear the only way to win back Mr. George Weasley – "

George?!

I flick my eyes frantically to Charlie. His eyes tell me he'll explain later.

Anything could have happened to him. Anything!

Marcus catches my eye, throwing me an arrogant smirk that says he knows and won't tell me.

"As for Mr. Weasley, here – " I jolt back into my mind; I've tuned Professor Dumbledore's voice out. That's brilliant. "Ah, it seems I have your attention mow."

I fight the flush as amusement creeps into his voice. How much time has passed?

"As for you, Mr. Weasley, you have a quest ahead of you."

A quest? What the – I've gotten into the bad habit of tuning people out; it comes from listening to Fudge dictate all the time. I could slap myself for being so careless.

Ouch! No need, Charlie's taken care of that.

I glare at him for hitting me.

"Mr. Weasley, you know what you have to do, why don't you take your brother with you." Is he talking to me or Charlie? And that dog is still curling his lip at me. "Now everyone, hop to it! We need to get one step ahead of Them."

The adults are the first to dissipate, leaving Marcus, Charlie, and me.

"Weasley," Marcus says abruptly. "Can I speak with you alone?"

Both Charlie and I turn to him, eyebrows raised.

"Percy," he rolls his eyes.

Charlie nods to me, "I'll be waiting outside."

He doesn't know about Marcus' past; if he did, he wouldn't leave me alone with him.

As soon as the door shuts behind Charlie, Marcus asks,

"Why wouldn't you help me?" He's changed. He's not as calloused and brutal as before, but, if I remember correctly (which I probably don't), he's more sarcastic, but he's definitely mellowed out.

"Marcus, you spend seven years making someone's life a nightmare, complete with the corresponding bruises, and they most likely will slam a door in your face when you show up out of the blue."

"It's called Apparating," he exasperates.

Ha, ha. That was a joke. Too bad it wasn't funny. Only Oliver can do that –

Damn, I've got to stop that.

"You do know your quest right?" he drawls. That was random.

"Pray tell, what is my quest?" Two can play this game.

"To find the Dominion Jewel."

Say what?! He can't be serious!

"Marcus, the Jewel is gone, there is no such thing anymore."

"Tsk, tsk," he waggles a finger in my face. "Weren't you paying attention while Dumble-bore was speaking?"

"He said that I had a quest and that I know what to do?" He's just messing with my head. Mind games. That's all. Nothing more. Did I say that he's not as cruel as before? Well, I was wrong.

"And do you?" he prompts.

No, I don't; I'm completely at a loss. "Of course I do," I exclaim, insulted that he would think otherwise.

"You don't even know what happened to your brother!" he sniggers. "That's so rich!"

"Now that you've had a nice laugh at my expense, I believe my brother is waiting for me."

I leave without looking back, even when he calls, "Nice earring!"

Charlie is indeed waiting for me like he promised.

"Perce? What was that about?"

"Nothing," I respond perhaps too quickly.

He raises an incredulous eyebrow. "I was referring to the meeting, you had this weird blank stare after Dumbledore said George was – You didn't even hear your quest. I'm going with you, no negotiations."

It must be the vision messing with my head. Odd, though, my stomach hasn't revolted in the past – what time is it – I glance at my watch – Four hours?!

No, no, that only took a few minutes.

I'm not liking this.

" – right?"

Huh? Charlie's been talking and I caught none of it.

"Perce? You still with me?"

"I'm sorry, I spaced out – "

"You could say that," he snorts.

Right after he mentioned something happened to George. "Where's George?"

"In the infirmary," he says gravely. That would explain why Fred was there…

"What happened to him?" Hysteria is starting to creep into the edges of my resolve.

"Do you really want to know?" he tries weakly.

Why else would I ask? "Yes."

Taking a deep sigh, he leads me to the infirmary.

"You need to see it yourself."

He opens the door to the infirmary, allowing me through before him.

Fear.

Madam Pomfrey frowns at us, but allows us through to a room I never knew existed.

As the door opens a stark white medical room is revealed.

Ron is sitting dejectedly in a chair. He doesn't even turn to acknowledge our presence. He just stares at the bed. He needs a haircut; it's shaggy and long enough to get in his eyes and do little else. Thin wire frames outline his sad, wan eyes. Since when does Ron need glasses?

There, levitating centimeters off the bed is George. At least I think it is George. He has so many tubes in him, it's difficult to tell, but his red hair is a giveaway even if it is stringy and limp. Mum will have little difficultly telling the twins apart now.

What am I thinking? My stomach leaps into my throat (thankfully not its contents).

"What happened?" I choke, but it comes out as an incoherent garble. I clear my throat and try again.

"He was mind-raped," Ron answers flatly, keeping his eyes fixed on George.

Mind-raped?! A very limited amount of wizards have that power. And fewer would use it.

George could not have been attacked within Hogwarts; he wouldn't be singled out like that. He would have had to have been doing something risky, daring, and probably for a laugh. I knew that the twins would get hurt in their endeavors, but I never though they would become terminally ill, comatose.

If Ron is reacting like this –

"How's Fred?" I suddenly want to know.

"He's suffering," Charlie replies grimly. As to be expected. Those two were almost inseparable; it's weird to see one without the other. But they are separate people and are able to function without the other present. "And he seems to have undergone some brain trauma."

Um… ok. Brain Trauma? As in sympathy pains or as in their minds were connected like so many believe?

How does Charlie know this and I don't?

"How are we going to help him?" I plead, desperate to earn my way back into my cut off family.

Ron tears his eyes free from George to stare at me blankly. Yes, Ron, I am capable of loving my family.

"Dumbledore just spent four hours explaining that…" Charlie's eyes never leave George's body. " You are to retrieve a priceless jewel – And I'm going with you. As for everyone else, let them handle that, eh?"

"Wouldn't Bill be more apt for retrieving jewels? It is his job." I furrow my brow.

Charlie and Ron drop their gaze and I think Ron is grinding his teeth.

"What happened to Bill?" I demand.

"Bill… he…" I really should have stayed in closer contact with my family. "He's missing. No one knows where he is."

Shite. Is there anything else I should know about my blood? "What about Ginny?"

"Ginny's fine, bastard," Ron seethes. "You just waltz right in after being absent for a year and expect everything to be just fine, no problems here! It doesn't work that way, Percy; there's a bloody war going on!"

"Calm down, Ron," Charlie sooths for me. I don't know how to respond. "He would have no way of knowing. Just like I didn't until I asked. Of course he knows about the war. I pulled him out of a conference in France directed towards preparation for the war."

I thank Charlie with my eyes.

"Maybe," Ron jumps up from his chair and stalks up to me. "If he got of from behind his blasted desk, he would – "

"He's pivotal in the war effort, Ron," Charlie's voice booms. "Everyone else is working for it, but what Percy does affects the entire outcome of the war."

Ron sinks back into his chair.

"That's right, Ron. Harry and Percy are the ones everyone's after, along with three others. You can hardly blame Harry for anything he does, so don't blame your flesh either."

"He's not my flesh," Ron denies quickly and bitterly.

"I can't change your mind, Ron, but I can change – "

"How is he pivotal?" he interrupts.

"What I tell you doesn't leave this room," Charlie states flatly. Ron nods, slowly. "He's a Wild Mage and therefore the only candidate on our side able to possess the Dominion Jewel."

Ron and I gape at him in disbelief. Ron because he never had suspected me to be anything more than an occasional nuisance, me because I'm to possess the Dominion Jewel… just like Marcus had explained.

Why couldn't Marcus have just been playing mind games?

I sigh.

I have no luck.

~*~

After all these years, I still love the owlery. The owls have changed, but that's it. It's still secluded, still friendly, and still humanless.

I've written a letter to work, explaining a family emergency has come up and that Roger can handle things for me. I haven't taken a holiday yet and now is as good a time as any.

"I knew you'd be here." Oliver?

I whirl around.

"Marcus." The name isn't growled, but there's still contempt laced throughout.

"Who else? You certainly weren't expecting Wood?" he sneers.

A Tawny owl near me hisses and I feel a growl forming deep in my throat.

"Why? Why do you insist on following me?" I try not to sound desperate. I try desperately not to sound desperate and it doesn't work.

"You're not the only one with a letter," he rolls his eyes, waving a slip of parchment.

I glower at him.

"You look pale, Weasley, have you been eating?"

I continue to glower at him.

"Unless you've become bulimic…"

I cringe… I haven't thrown up in the past… really long time, that's a good sign.

He saunters up to a Little owl and ties the letter to his foot, whispering in his ear.

What – What did he say?

Is being for greasy-hair.

Snape…

"So, Weasley, you figured out you're bi yet?" he asks casually.

Have I figured – "WHAT?!" I sputter. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"That must mean 'no'," he leers.

Ick.

"I bid you good day." And he sweeps from the owlery. His manor, his poise, it's just like Snape's.

I want answers, no more mind games. Professor Dumbledore will dance around it, Professor McGonogall will purse her lips, and Snape will scowl. Charlie might have the answer.

To Charlie I go.

But first, to owl Roger with instructions and an apology to Fudge.

And I'm not bi.

~*~*~*~

TBC

Wee! That was fun!

Thanks muchly to my reviews!

Mira: Sorry, this update wasn't as quick. *blush* Hmm… transforming in front of Marcus… Well, he sorta does something like that, but not quite – *shuts up*

Demeter: Hmm… At least one snog between Oliver and Percy…. I think I might be able to squeeze that in, but no promises.

Niamh: I think this chapter answers your question, however, there are still more scenes with Oliver to come, that I promise.

Kimagure: Thank you. I really love and appreciate your enthusiastic reviews. ^-^ This is kinda nosey, but is your name from "Kimagure Orange Road"? Sorry for prying.

GayRon: Thanks so much! I hope this chapter lives up to the other chapters.

Cariad: Yeah, I'd imagine Oliver/Cedric would put one off if one had previously written them as brothers… but thank you. ^^

Green Eyes: Is this soon enough?

Spintwin: Thanks! Ah, yes, many people wanted it to be O/P, including my beta. -_-; Hee, hee, I had fun with the twins. ^___^ Don't worry, Percy also thought that Oliver was talking about him during the conversation, too. And I haven't given up on this, not now that it finally has a plot!