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: eventually Percy/Marcus – It's getting there, really!
Contents: Angst, Slash, POV, it's kinda General
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: I love this chapter, or the end, more like. *smirk* But I don't like that this is becoming the kind of fic that I can't stand: drama. *sigh* All explanations will be in the next chapter. Well, most explanations.

*~* Indicates time change

~*~ Indicates scene change

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

Superstars and Cannonballs

It was a week before I could walk again properly on my own, and I returned home the next day. The floo didn't work because of the magical impairment caused by the Jewel, so I was forced to take a very slow Muggle transport again.

And today I face Hogwarts.

I left Charlie and took the Jewel. Charlie will also return by Muggle transportation. The Jewel not only kept me from using floo, but also dealing with other things. It's not major, just inconvenient. I can't Apparate. And King's Cross was very interesting.

And I'm bringing this Jewel to a magical school?!

I must be nutters.

But then, after I'm bound, magic will be possible – I hope. On the lighter side, no Death Eater will be able to use magic either.

I just stand there, staring at the stone fortress, unable to step into it and face the faculty.

"Mr. Weasley, so good of you to return." I'll be able to identify that cold drawl for the rest of my life. Snape.

"Good day, professor," I bid quietly. "I hope I'm not too late."

"No, Mr. Weasley, you are late, but not too late. Albus is expecting you and we mustn't keep him waiting." Snape looks victorious.

Me, I feel like I've been run over by a heard of hippogriffs.

~*~

"Where is your brother, Weasley? Had to leave him at the Roof of the World?" Marcus sneers as Snape leads me into Professor Dumbledore's office. It lacks his normal edge.

I ignore him.

"You have the Jewel," Marcus whistles, awed.

I take the Jewel from my pocket, placing it importantly on Professor Dumbledore's desk.

The Headmaster smiles. "The binding will take place at once."

As soon as the binding takes place, I need to return to the Ministry to help sort things out, then get back here and help Ginny sort things out.

"Can I – What are the affects of the Jewel – like magical impairment and the like?" I ask quickly.

"That we can only tell with time," Professor Dumbledore replies soberly. "It depends greatly on the handler and how much control and power he possesses."

I'm sorry, I was mistaken; I thought I was done being the experiment.

"Mr. Flint," Professor Dumbledore says swiftly. "Please prepare Mr. Weasley for the ceremony."

Marcus nods and stands, expecting me to follow.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Flint will do you no harm," the Headmaster reassures.

I stand and he brushes past me, and then leads me from Professor Dumbledore's office. I fell like I'm being lead to be Kissed. Oh dear, wrong metaphor. Yet, if the Headmaster trusts Marcus, he shouldn't do anything too… permanent.

"Scared, Weasley?" I hear him vaguely.

I don't answer. I hope Father is holding up at the Ministry and the others are doing –

"Weasley, we're here."

'Here' is Snape's office.

"Don't worry, Severus will join us momentarily," he coos mockingly. Since when is he on a first name basis with Snape? "In the mean time, relax. The torture will come whether you relax or not; so just relax." That is certainly not comforting.

He takes a seat behind Snape's desk, propping his feet up on it.

I sit in a corner, my back to the wall and my front to the room. What? I still don't trust him?

"You're different from in school," he says suddenly.

"Ok, so are you," I reply carefully. He's actually docile… Creepy thought.

"That's not what I mean, Weasley," he tsks lightly. "I mean your whole value scale is out of whack."

I have no idea what that means to him, I'm not sure if that's an insult or not –

I have changed…

"What are you after?" There, all back to normal.

"After? I'm just making small talk before your torture," he leers.

"Must you constantly refer to it as such?" I growl. Nope, no change here.

"Everything changes, Weasley, not even you are above that," he challenges.

This 'conversation' has come to a close with a bang, or rather, a sting. And we sit there in silence until Snape joins us a while later.

If that man has only one thing, it's presence. When Snape entered his office, it was so quietly, but it was painfully obvious it was he.

"Mr. Weasley," he addresses curtly. "Mr. Flint." He glares at Marcus until he removes his boots from the desk. "Is Mr. Weasley prepared?"

Marcus sits up, announcing, "Yes, quite ready."

Ready? Marcus did absolutely nothing! Nothing!

"I see. Mr. Weasley, if you will please follow me. Mr. Flint, please bring up the rear."

"And such a darling rear it is," he drawls.

I snap to him, gritting, "What did you say?"

"Mr. Weasley, I assure you that Mr. Flint said nothing, so if you will please refrain from petty squabbling, we can put an end to this war."

He sounds more than tired.

~*~

He brings me to a spacious room I never knew existed, with a high arched ceiling and not a single bit of trimming. There, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonogall, and an unknown witch that was at the meeting before are waiting for us.

"Is he ready?" Professor McGonogall asks tightly.

Snape nods tersely.

I'm not ready! Why is everyone making up my mind for me?!

Professor Dumbledore presents the Jewel on a talisman, muttering under his breath. Professor McGonogall and the other witch join him in the muttering, positioning themselves to his left and his right.

Snape and Marcus stand firmly at my sides.

It's white, just like when I –

~*~

This is a nasty habit I've gotten into, even more so than tuning people out at important times. Must I pass out at every minor event?

"Awake or just not wanting to be awake?"

"Neither, Marcus, leave me – " Merlin! The rush of power – what is this? I've never felt anything this powerful before, I can actually feel everything on the isle – rocks, and trees, and –

I want to use it.

"I've been bound?" I ask sounding drained of all energy. Odd, though, I don't feel weak at all.

"Yes," he says softly. I have grossly understated my earlier assessment: he's changed a hell of a lot.

"Then what's wrong?" I ask slowly, carefully.

"Your body couldn't handle the power," Marcus says casually, as if he had expected it. "So you fainted. Much like if you hold your breath your body shuts down so that you can breathe, you know?"

I nod. Like some child at the market demanding a sweet from their mummy, saying they'll hold their breath until they die.

He thinks I'm still a child. How dare he!

Propping myself up into a sitting position, I study him.

"That's not what's wrong."

"You're brilliant, Weasley," he says dryly.

"It took you long enough to figure that out." I don't like my voice sounding so tired.

He just looks at me as if he's about to tell me someone died.

"What is it, Marcus?" I demand through clenched teeth.

"I'm not at liberty to say – "

Snape bursts through the door. Quite literally, I'm surprised it's still on its hinges.

"We are needed, Mr. Flint. It's pressing."

Marcus shoots up. "Aye, sir." He then turns to me murmuring, "Sleep, Percy."

*~*

"I'm constantly tired, Alanna, I don't know what's wrong with me, but I know it's not healthy."

She hmmed thoughtfully. "You're getting enough sleep – " He nodded. " – And you're exercising – " He nodded again, slower this time. "And you haven't been hexed – Then I have absolutely no idea. Have you seen a Healer?" She knew, though, oh how she knew. She had seen it often enough on the battlefield, right before examinations, or right before MidWinter.

Stress.

"I would, I just don't know what to say; it does seem rather vague to say 'I'm chronically fatigued', doesn't it?"

"Percy, you've got to start taking better care of yourself, even if it means asking for help. Now, do see a Healer."

"A Mediwitch," he corrected.

"Mediwitch," she echoed.

*~*

"Wake up, come on! Bloody wake up!"

I open my eyes and there Marcus is, personal space be damned.

"Merlin," I groan. I've done it again.

Marcus shoves my glasses in my face and I look up at him bewildered.

"Come on, we've got to get you out of here," he commands.

"Now," I gripe, head spinning lightly as he drags me up. Whoa, head rush.

"You really should gain some weight, Weasley, you weigh practically nothing…" He growls in frustration. "Can't you help yourself get to your feet; you're a deadweight."

I thought I didn't weight anything.

"What's the rush?" I complain as he roughly succeeds in hauling me out of my nice, warm bed.

"You're too groggy to comprehend the why," he tells me plainly, there's no malice in his voice, just urgency.

"'M not," I grumble in protest. "Ok, maybe I am."

I slip out of his grasp and crumble to the floor.

Boom! Or rather – Plop! I fall down.

I giggle froths up from my throat.

"Get up," Marcus hisses.

I giggle again.

"Good God, you're drunk!" he exclaims.

"I didn't drink anything," I tell him earnestly.

He struggles again to lift me up. Stops. Sighs. Then scoops me up as if I were the child he was referring to earlier.

I bury my head in his neck. He smells nice, clean, like he just bathed.

It's absurd because it's Marcus and he's being… human, civil, I don't know.

Now if only he would make to room stop spinning.

He stops his dead run. He was running? Slowly he looks at me through strange black eyes. His eyes are so… different. Just like mine. I should have noticed this earlier.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he admits, "but if it will get us there faster…"

He looks at me, really looks at me – And the hallway comes to a complete stop.

"What did you – "

He tsks me. "You were the best of the best at school and you haven't realized that – Shite. We've got to get out of here. Now."

He drops me unceremoniously and takes off, hand clasped securely in mine so I am forced to follow or lose an arm.

I'm utterly turned around by the time he comes to a stop; I don't know how to get back or where, exactly, I am.

I'm at his mercy.

"You are to stay here until we receive word from an authorities wizard," he tells me. Huh?

"I don't understand."

"I'd assume you wouldn't," he replies arrogantly.

Damn his cockiness.

"Care to fill me in?" His leer is nauseating. I swallow hard, but press on. "How long have I been out?" I glower. I don't like the patches in my memory.

"After the Jewel binding, only about ten hours. After you fell back after that about thirty six hours." If he weren't Marcus I'd say he looks sheepish.

"Why?"

"I… hmm…" he searches for the right terminology, "overdosed you. Sorry." He doesn't sound the least bit sorry.

It's a good enough excuse for the time being.

"What is happening?" I don't like being out of the loop, especially when everyone assumes I'm in it.

He sighs and runs a hand though his dark hair.

"Is it really that bad?" I ask meekly.

"Worse."

"Ok, how about another plaguing question: why are you hanging about me?"

"Oh, that." He knows he has the power over my knowledge. "Because you can't handle the power from that pretty gemstone on your own." So I'm weak now. "Well, you were drunk on that power and you were spewing it in chunks all over the place. It was amusing, but Dumbledore would have none of you making an arse out of yourself."

"Leaving you bereft, no doubt," I comment acidly.

"That's no way to treat your savior," he responds feigning hurt.

"I assure you that I do not need saving and even if I did, you wouldn't be my first choice."

"One never chooses."

"Must you always have the last word?" I demand hotly.

"Must you always battle for the last word," he retorts snidely.

It's useless to bicker.

"This is a horrible mess," I state miserably.

"It's called a war," Marcus responds without sarcasm.

"Marcus, please explain to me everything," I plead.

"It's long, complicated, and you wont like any of it." I've never seen him with such a serious expression before, not even studying for NEWT's right before I jump- can't think of that now, it's irrelevant.

I nod slowly.

"I guess then I should start from the beginning. The very beginning…." His voice becomes monotones. "Three years ago, your sixth year, when you were studying for your animagus talent with McGonogall, I was studying – Bugger, that's really aggravating. This place isn't safe anymore, we've got to get out and now or we're dead – in the permanent way." Death is permanent.

"Why do you keep sprouting that spontaneously just to get out of explaining?" I scoff.

"That's mighty self-centered of you, but I can't have you die just yet," he smiles with bright mockery. "So follow me, and do it quickly."

*~*

"I thought I wanted to understand how the mind of a human works," he proclaimed sadly.

"What do you mean? You're giving up?" she challenged.

"No!" He cried out in denial.

"Then what do you mean?" she inquired.

"I mean that it's far too complex and the diversity is far too grand for anyone to even have a hope of understanding. At least that's what I've learned."

"You have now?" she mused.

"How did you come to this insightful conclusion?"

She was laughing at him, not aloud, but laughing nonetheless.

"Mind games," he clipped.

"Mind games?" she responded doubtfully.

"Mind games," he nodded.

"If you say so," she dismissed airily.

"I'm not quitting!"

*~*

"We should be relatively protected here," Marcus announces. He says this after casting a series of charms and counter charms. "No one should be able to detect the wards I've put on this place. And if they can, well, they won't know it's me."

He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"What is 'this place'?" I ask, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. It's just an old, broken, wooden shed.

"The Shrieking Shack."

I suck in air. This place is haunted. In a bad way.

I fiddle with my earring as Marcus gives the place another once over.

Ask your Marcus about that vision.

Well, it would kill some time.

"The earring suits you," he muses. "Just like I said it would."

"Marcus?"

"Hmm?" He hums, taking a seat on the dusty, broken floor.

"What do you know about my vision?" I blurt.

"What about it?" he returns nonchalantly.

"What sent it?"

"Oh. Is that it?"

"Answer," I clip. Must he be so calm about this?

"I did," he shrugs.

"Oh. Well. That makes it better," I goad.

"It should," he shrugs again. "Would you prefer some hell-bent dark wizard to lead you to your death?"

I stare down at him, then sit down myself. Rather unceremoniously at that.

"No, you'd have to be daft to let your mind go unguarded," he scoffs. "No, Dumbledore wouldn't let such a pretty waste of space to be raped, now would he?" Funny, he let that happen to George.

"What are you saying?"

"Dumbledore needs you," he spits as if the words themselves were sour.

"How – how so?" I hesitate.

"He'll tell you soon enough," Marcus sighs; he's as exhausted as Snape. "But that's not all. Oh no, far from it," he laughs uncontrollably and it's too cynical. "However, I don't think I should be explaining this all – to you – at this time."

Tease.

"Marcus, I implore you: please explain everything to me." If Dumbledore trusts him, I suppose I should at least try.

I trusted Mr. Crouch as well.

Marcus glares. "I am not an old coot tied to a bloody pathetic bint with no control over her own child!" he bellows in exasperation. "And I'm damn insulted you would make any connection between us!"

I – I didn't say anything aloud –

Oh.

Merlin.

Oh, Merlin.

No.

I refuse to believe that –

"Surprise, Weasley," he grins, waggling his eyebrows, but it doesn't show in his eyes. There's no malice… just fatigue.

"So, you're saying… that you are protecting my mind from – "

"The Big Bads," he finishes.

"You're psychotic," I state flatly.

"You're in denial. And no, it's not psychotic; it's psychic, thank you very much."

~*~*~*~

TBC… (Again with those three letters, geez!)

Thank you to Rouge *huggles* for suggesting Marcus as a psychic, way back in part one's beta stages.

Snape as Marcus' mentor came from a line where Harry thinks Snape is going to steal the Philosopher's Stone: "Harry didn't see how he could – yet he sometimes had the horrible feeling that Snape could read minds." Ch13 PS

And thank you to my reviewers.

Kimagure: I love you! Can I have your child? Oh, yes, my response: Well, here's more. Poor, dense, Percy. Someone will clue him in. Sorta. I don't know what I'm going on about, but I know it involves Oliver.

Demeter: It's a middle. I think. Marcus has more interesting revelations for Percy. Well, at least two more.

Alanna Moonblade: I'm working on it. I already have the rest of the story outlined, but that doesn't mean anything. However, I do wish to finish at least one of my stories.