A/N: I don't own any HP characters, settings, names, etc... boohoo for me. Stuff in Percy's POV soon, I promise!! Enjoy!

Otherwise Known as Fate

Chapter 3: Welcome Back

Dementors. Bloody dementors. At Hogwarts.

It was strange, saying this, even thinking this, without a question mark. The worlds foulest creatures, that suck the happiness out of your body, that destroy every glimmer of hope in your being, were guarding the "safest place in the world." Apparently, the school was safe no longer. Without the safety, without the feeiling of security in the place you sleep, eat, and learn, the student body would crumble. And the teachers knew that. Dumbledore knew that.

What could have possibly possessed Albus Dumbledore, supposedly the greatest wizard of the age, to station Dementors around Hogwarts? It was mad, entirely and utterly mad.

Of course, Dumbledore detested the idea, but the Ministry of Magic insisted. All due to an Azkaban break out.

Rumor had it that the escaped convict, Sirius Black, was on the loose, and Hogwarts seemed to be the place that he was likely to hit next. There was a whisper that he was once a student here. A very handsome, popular student, also. Not much more was said.

Oliver was afraid. More afraid than his first day at Hogwarts, more afraid than his first Quidditch game, more afraid than when he had seen his grandmother having a heart attack... he shook his head, dismissing the newly stirred thoughts. Stupid Dementors. He sat at the Gryffindor table, wedged between the Weasley twins and soaked to the bone. Stupid Rain. It had been raining, positively pouring, not to mention the four or five water balloons that had been hurled at him by Peeves, the damn nuisance. Of course, he had a laugh when George had charmed the balloons to chase Peeves around the Entance Hall. That bloody poltergeist pulled the same stupid tricks every year.

Oliver was shivering, and well aware of it. He had played Quidditch matches in wetter, colder situations than this, but apparently his strong immune system was taking a bit of a vacation. Stupid immune system. He was freezing, and he thought his nose might be running, too. The dementors, it seemed, had affected Oliver worse than anyone else he had heard of so far. He thought he might be coming down with something. Not only did he feel weak, like collapsing into a bed, he felt like crying, or screaming. Oliver Wood did not cry. Or scream, unless he was really, really pissed off, and even then he preferred the term 'shout' or 'yell'. Not only did the dementors presence on the train leave Oliver weaker than any of the other students he heard about, there was that embarrassing situation with Percy Weasley. Oh gods... he inwardly groaned as the thought came back to him, he clasped his head in his hands, still trying to surpress his shudders. And Malfoy had seen, too... that prat was probably going to pass untrue rumors all around the school about Oliver and Percy. But it had been an accident, Oliver reassured himself, just a stupid awkward thing that could have happened to anyone... with dementors around, at least.

Fred and George were having an animated conversation with their friend, Lee Jordan, who sat across from them. Fred, noticing Oliver's silence, turned to him. He looked concerned, in his perpetually mischevious sort of way, the closest thing to sincere you could get from one of them. "You certainly look the worse for wear." He was never one to mince words. He paused, then leaned in closer. "What exactly happened on the train?"

George decided to pop into the conversation. "I think your nose is running." He pointed out helpfully. Just leave it to the twins to call attention to someones weak points. Oliver released his aching head. He glared at each of the twins in turn, wiping his nose on a napkin. They looked genuinely concerned, and maybe they were, a little, in that perpetually mischevious closest-thing-to-sincere way, but Oliver certainly wasn't going to tell them what was bothering him. When he said nothing, the twins jumped into a whole new conversation, figuring that whatever it was could wait until later.

"So, where's Ron and the gang?" Lee asked the twins. Fred and George shared a glance. Oliver sat up a bit, now interested. He hadn't noticed Harry's absence at the table, too wrapped up in his own disturbing thoughts.

"Well, we heard something happened with Harry on the train..." Fred started.

"Yeah, I think he passed out, or something."

"Why?" Oliver asked before Fred and George could change the subject, as they were apt to do. He knew that his Seeker was prone to doing some weird things, but passing out? He'd have to be pretty weak willed... Oliver then realized that he himself had nearly passed out. He inwardly flushed. Well, maybe not that weak willed... Now he was curious.

Lee leaned forward, speaking softer. "I suppose you've heard about the dementors, you know, guarding the school, right?" Oliver and the twins nodded dumbly, Fred and George looking eager for gossip. "Well," he continued, glancing about to make sure no one heard (Oliver would have rolled his eyes at this action; gossip travelled fast at Hogwarts anyway), "there was some on the train. That's why it stopped, to let the dementors on. Can't see why, really. But anyway, one actually went inside of the compartment that Harry, Ron and Hermione were in. Luckily, the new Defense teacher was in there. He practically saved Harry's life." There was a note of awe in Lee's voice. He sat back, nodding his head.

The twins both exclaimed "Brilliant!" at the same time, for some reason envious of Ron because he had actually seen a dementor up close, or something idiotic along those lines. Oliver opened his mouth to ask Lee if the dementor had gone into any one else's compartment, but was interrupted by sudden applause as the new first years, looking as if their boats had capsized on the customary trek across the lake, trudged into the Hall behind a rather ruffled, yet still imposing, Professor McGonagall.

Oliver sighed, and turned to watch the Sorting boredly.

The hat, sitting placidly on the stool, waited for the chatter to die down. It opened its mouth-brim thing, and taking a deep breath, began to belt out a new song, as he did every year.

In the ages of the old,

When I was but cotton yet to be picked,

There were no slavers, lives weren't sold,

Spirits weren't stolen, minds weren't knicked.

Those dangers, as the years went, flew,

On wings of darkness,

Evils new.

But four who knew the greater cause,

Created a place of learning great,

That seemingly possessed no flaws.

Ravenclaw, with flawless wit,

Slytherin, with greed,

Hufflepuff, loyal and true,

Gryffindor, with his brave deeds,

The safety of the place astounded

Many who had come to see,

This shelter from the outside world,

That guarded from evils yet to be.

Said evils tried to seige the school,

And broke their heads on Hogwart's door,

And learned their only golden rule:

'Don't challenge us, we'll vanquish you!'

But now, as this dark age grows strong,

Wearily balanced on chaos' edge,

A brand new year will now unfold,

While Hogwarts keeps it's valiant pledge.

The applause was slow, nervous. Oliver clapped with the rest, but was a bit worried by the new song. A terrible feeling hung in the air. The hat had said what Oliver had sensed: ...as this dark age grows stong, wearily balanced on chaos' edge... Chaos. Dark age. And all that about 'evils breaking thier head on Hogwarts' door,' or 'laying seige to the school.' It was unnerving, and it hardly said a thing about the houses! Oliver, who had been quite pleased when his shivers finally stopped, gave one last involuntary shudder.

He looked around at the table, still clapping slowly, trying to see his friends reactions. Fred and George applauded slowly, looking unusually somber, and, for the first time all night, remained silent. That was odd, as they were not ones to be unnerved about anything. He shared a glance with Angelina, who sat next to Lee and across from him. She looked worried, her dark eyes clouded with concern. He felt a tingling on the back of his neck. Someone was looking at him. He turned around, looking towards the Prefect's table and meeting Percy Weasley's stare. He furrowed his brow. They both clapped on, suspiciously trying to read the other's eyes. Oliver really wanted to figure out what that guy's problem was, but was a bit preoccupied with his frightful thoughts. As their gazes locked, it was as if a bridge spanned the space between them, a bridge of concern and fear. Percy was afraid, just as afraid as Oliver was, and somehow, Oliver felt that. His suspicious attitude went away, replaced by... compassion, Oliver guessed, for lack of a more masculine word. He could understand what Percy was feeling- for the first time, he exercised his almost completely unused trait of empathy. They gazed on, not blinking, hardly moving. In this trance that held Oliver, he felt the fear. The sense of foreboding that clouded Percy's head and his own at the hat's troublesome words.

Oliver was, actually, rather frightened. He didn't know what was happening, or why Percy's eyes suddenly softened, why he felt almost calm. Then, realizing that the clapping had died down and that they had been staring at each other for almost a full minute, they both hastily turned back to their individual friends and conversations. Oliver was a tad bit unnerved. Hesitantly turning back to the prefect's table, he saw that Percy didn't look quite so stiff and rigid as he had before. He was slightly calmer now. Oliver furrowed his brow. Empathy was a weird feeling. He felt... good, he guessed. A little confused, but good. He turned back to the table and averted his gaze to the stage. The Sorting had begun.

Fred looked at Oliver curiously. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Alicia punching him on the arm. "Shush!" She hissed in mock severity. Fred obeyed, but gave Oliver a strange look before turning to watch the sorting.

"Audobahn, Bruce!" Professor McGonagall called over the chatting students. Oliver slumped over boredly, as if just remembering how boring this whole ordeal was when it wasn't your own sorting. It was going to be a looooong night.

Enough was enough by the time "Zendler, Ambrosia" had been sorted into Hufflepuff, and the Sorting Hat had been taken back to wherever it was for the rest of the year. Screw food, Oliver thought, I just want to get to bed. The minute Dumbledore finished his speech, the twins rounded on Oliver.

"Ol, please tell us what just happened." Said George somewhat discreetly, though it was easy to tell that both of the twins were practically bubbling over with curiosity.

"I have no idea what you could be talking about," Oliver deadpanned, piling mashed potatoes on his plate dully, figuring that he might as well eat a bit. He had a mind to use some proverb thingy about curiosity killing the cat, but figured it would be wasted breath. It was easier just to silently weather the onslaught of begging, and if they were desperate enough, threats.

"Oh, you don't, don't you?" Fred raised an accusing eyebrow.

Oliver was silent, spooning potatoes with a vengence.

"Alright then, I suppose we'll have to go ask the other contestant in your recent stare-off." Said George with a dramatic sigh.

Oliver's spine stiffened. Oh, so they had gone straight from begging to public humiliation. He gritted his teeth, and pretending not to care, answered calmly. "You go do that then." He slammed more potatoes on his plate absently, not realizing that he already had enough to feed two Olivers.

Lee pointed down the table to the twins' right, distracting them for a minute. "Oi, Harry! Ron! Hermione! When did you get back? Where were you, anyways?"

"Long story," Harry muttered, and that, it seemed, was that.

Fred looked incredulously at Oliver's pile of mashed potatoes. "You going to eat all that?" Oliver, realizing that he had nearly filled his entire plate with potatoes, went on serving himself other food.

"Yes. I just love mashed potatoes." Oliver said this so murderously that Fred and George both decided to bother Harry and Ron instead of their Quidditch Captain. Had he noticed the glance they shared before turning from him he would have gotten worried, very worried indeed, but he was too busy staring at his plate to notice.

Oliver picked around at his food, hardly finishing a fourth of the potatoes heaped on his golden plate amd even less of everything else. He ignored the merry chatter around him, paying no attention to the twins or any of his other friends, even when the conversation turned to Quidditch. "Hey, Oliver! Did you see that Appleby at Wasps game on the fifh? Oliver?" Silence. Angelina was downright confused. Oliver should have been screaming that the Wasps were cheating bastards and didn't deserve to live, let alone catch the snitch. But he didn't. He just sat there, picking around at his food, never looking up from the plate. He was deep in thought.

What did happen on the train? I'm still not sure... okay, so, first the twins and I were talking... I told them about Muggle Studies... they were bugging me about it... then... then everything went cold. And dark. Why was it dark? Oh, yeah, the lights went out. And the train was slowing down, it stopped. Malfoy was there, too, at some point. And Percy came in, looking for the twins. Then something happened... Oliver could hardly remember that part of the train ride, but the next part was clearer to him than he would have liked. He wanted to forget it. When he opened the door, I thought he was... I don't know what I thought. But then he came in and said... something, then everything was spinning, then I was on the seat, with Percy on top of me. Oliver could feel his face flushing in embarassment at the thought. He wondered if Percy blushed when he thought of that, too.

Oliver stopped in his mental tracks. But why would I even wonder... he tried to rationalize this statement that had just popped out of the blue. He brushed it off. Oh well. Just another thing to think about later. As a matter of fact, Oliver thought as he blandly chewed some chicken, it might pay just to go up to bed now. He took a quick glance around the table, setting his fork down. His classmates were all still merrily chatting and eating, and in Fred and George's case, both at the same time. He stood up at once, abandoning his food.

"Whurryah gorin, Ol?" Fred managed, mouth full of mince pie. But Oliver didn't answer. He was rooted to the spot. A sudden thought had hit him. Fred swallowed his food and tried again, voice much clearer. "Ol? I said-" All of a sudden, as if coming out of a trance, Oliver bolted to the door, quickly exiting the Great Hall into the empty corridor and dashing up the spiral staircase. A few students gave him odd looks, but soon turned back to their meals. The crazy Quidditch captain was probably just going to go over some plays,.

He walked quickly around a corner in a deserted hall until he reached a small alcove seat built into the wall. He slowly lowered himself onto the seat, sitting with his back hunched and his hands gripping the edge of the seat so hard that his knuckles turned white. He was staring at the floor and taking long, slow breaths. He finally gave a weak cry of submission and leaned his head against the cool stone wall, closing his eyes. Why hadn't he thought of it before? It was so strikingly obvious, too. I mean, when had he ever had a crush on a girl? Never, that's when. His eyes watered in disbeleif. Then, he smiled. And he grinned. And he laughed. Tears of hysterical laughter, disbeleif, and the general foolishness of the situation rolled down Oliver's cheeks. Of course he was gay. That explained a lot. The weird feelings, the tendency to distance himself from the overly flirtatious girls... it all added up.

Oliver tenatively let himself think on it, but didn't want to fully immerse himself in the lovely world that was homosexuality. He had become quite good at mental restriction of late, so that wasn't much of a problem. He just had to be sure... but there really wasn't much to be sure of. It all came down to, if and when he fell in love, whether that person was male or female. But what about everything leading up to that? Who did he date beforehand? He supposed that it was whoever he was attracted to... but Oliver wasn't exactly the type who was constantly looking for a mate or date. His head was usually in the clouds, or at least somewhere above ground, going over Quidditch plays and thinking on new tactics.

But this brought about another thought. What about today had made him realize this? He didn't rightfully know. Oh... well, the incident on the train may have had something to do with it. It had seemed to trigger a lot of weird thoughts, besides that. Could he be attracted to Percy, of all people? Oliver looked over to a nearby suit of armor, staring up at it unseeingly, lost in thought. Perhaps it was just Percy that stimulated the revelation, but was Oliver truly attracted to him? No, no, it doesn't seem likely, Oliver thought, shaking his head, laughter long since died, his eyes still wet with the tears of unfamiliar feelings. Percy was way too... Percy. Too stiff, formal... too rules conscious. Oliver wiped his still watering eyes and tried to give a small scowl, but couldn't stop himself from smiling instead. Well, Oliver Wood did cry, apparently. Let's just make this a one time thing, though, he silently asked himself. He closed his eyes once again, letting his entire body droop against the wall. The absurdity and seriousness of this whole situation made him want to laugh again, or cry again, or... sleep. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. He waited a few moments before standing up. Dessert was probably being served, he thought, estimating that he had about a half hour before students started going to bed. He stood up and looked up and down the Hall, checking to make sure his path was clear. It was deserted. He walked slowly down the corridor, hands in pockets, listening to his footsteps echo in the quiet lonliness of the hall, not thinking about anything. He walked all the way around to the south end of the school, nearing some mammoth windows overlooking the lake. As he got closer, he heard a soft noise coming from ahead. He walked cautiously forward, trying to keep silent. He stopped, baffled by the sight before him. He tingled with an odd feeling from head to toe.

Silvery moonlight streaming in beautifully from the windows cast a strange glow over the whole corridor, brightly sillhouetting the figure on the benches before the window. Apparently, the clouds and rain had been blown away. The person was crying quietly, clutching a peice of parchment in his pale, freckled hand as if he would never let go. Oliver observed for another moment, trying to be sure if what he was seeing was real. It couldn't be, but it had to be at the same time. Pale skin looking white and ghostly in the light, red hair aflame with the silver glow. The glint of familiar hornrimmed glasses, the glistening of unfamiliar tears. It was as if the gods are somehow twisting our lives together, Oliver thought, being unusually poetic, his next thought being, Odd, I didn't see him leave. I guess I wasn't paying much attention. Oliver had gone unnoticed, still standing at a far distance from the slightly shaking figure. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he had better get this over with and clarify a few things before his thoughts were centered on schoolwork and Quidditch. He let his breath out, and strode determinedly towards Percy Weasley.