Apologies for the period of time between updates!

"So, as you're all aware, this is my last year at Hogwarts," Charlie Weasley begins his annual start of the year speech to the remaining members of the previous year's Quidditch team on the second day of term. "We've won the cup two of the last three years, guys. We're on form. We'll do amazingly this year if we keep the focus."

Oliver's transfixed by his Captain's speech – though, in all honesty, part of it is imagining the possibility of him giving the same speech next year.

He looks to his left and right, however, and sees one other player. And then he remembers: the mass departure.

Last year, most of the Quidditch team had been seventh years: both Beaters, one constant Chaser and the sometimes first team, sometimes reserve Chaser, Rosie Shacklebolt, had all departed the Hogwarts gates at the end of the summer term.

"Our numbers are depleted," Charlie continues, almost as if he could read Oliver's mind. "But we've got some good blood in our reserve ranks and, from what I know of the new second years, there's quite a few strong players."

Oliver can barely contain a snort as he realises that two of the players Charlie is referring to are his mischief making, havoc wreaking (but incredible Quidditch players) younger twin brothers.

"We'll be having tryouts next weekend, as usual," Charlie adds, clapping his hands together. "So if the three of us can keep ourselves out of detention, that'd be grand. Though, in all honesty, the only one of us with a chance of going into detention is Mr Wood…"

Oliver's head snaps up once again at the mention of his name. "Hey, no fair, Weasley!" Oliver retorts, feeling the blood rush through his veins. "I definitely won't jeopardise this Quidditch team's chances of success!" Somewhere between being a fourth year, spending at least a week at the Burrow every year for three years and knowing four of the six Weasley brothers, Oliver's reached the stage where he's comfortable getting involved in some form of banter with his Captain.

"But maybe make sure that you don't focus too much on the Quidditch this week though, yeah, Oliver?" Charlie suggests.

"Like, you've literally drawn your suggestion for a new tactic on the back of the Transfiguration pamphlet that McGonagall gave us this morning," Alicia Spinnet, formerly a reservist Chaser and now the sole player in that position, adds with a smirk. "You might want to duplicate it though, Wood. It'll actually be pretty helpful – and reduce the amount of homework you have to do throughout the year."

"I'll do anything to reduce the amount of Transfiguration homework I get," Oliver mutters, making a mental note to actually read the pamphlet before discarding it. Or, rather, asking Percy to tell him whether it's worth him reading.

"Anyway," Charlie continues, clearly keen to wrap up his speech. "It's been a pleasure as always, guys. Hopefully next year, whoever's Captain gets to actually make the speech to enough players to make it worthwhile you going down to the changing rooms, rather than just sitting in the Common Room."

Oliver smirks. "Yeah, it loses a bit of the passion, I think," he agrees, tucking his new tactic explanation into his back pocket. "Good speech though, Charlie. I'm feeling particularly inspired to focus entirely on Quidditch and completely ignore any form of education this school tries to give me during the year."

"Let's be fair, Wood, that's what you were always going to do – you're just using my impeccable phrasing to justify your infatuation with the sport," Charlie jokes. "Anyway, guys, I'll see you Saturday for the try-outs. Don't end up in detention."

After briefly conferring with Alicia about whether there really is any benefit to Oliver reading the pamphlet, he moves across the Common Room to join the rest of the fourth year boys. As he drops down onto the rug in front of the fire, Oliver's mind wanders briefly to consider how much emptier the room feels compared to his first two years. Whilst part of it is just the fact that he's gotten much more comfortable with the room now that he's almost one of the oldest, there's definitely been a reduction in the number of students arriving at Hogwarts. Part of it, he thinks, is that some of the middling wizarding families relocated to America and the rest of Europe during You-Know-Who's reign of terror. Those who stayed…most of them just didn't have any kids, or at least any kids until the danger was gone.

"There's so many less kids nowadays, isn't there," Oliver comments randomly, interrupting Tom Johnson's tirade about something to do with rude Slytherins in Diagon Alley.

"Aren't there," Percy corrects.

Oliver barely manages to resist rolling his eyes. Somewhere over summer, everything started to annoy him, and his friend's pedantry is definitely high on the irritation list. "Yeah, aren't there loads less kids than when we started?"

The rest of his friends look around the room. "Yeah, I guess so," Paul Harrison comments distantly.

"Must be because of You-Know-Who," Patrick Sullivan adds, almost conspiratorially.

"It's gonna be difficult for the Quidditch team," Oliver continues, almost as if he hasn't heard his friends. "Like, we've always had a reserve team to jump in if we need them. But I think that we're going to be just down to a first team – and we'll be screwed for Seekers after Charlie leaves next year…" He could continue to ramble on about the relevance of declining student numbers to the future of his favourite sport, but he recognises the sound of his friends' laughter.

"Not even three sentences before he got started on Quidditch," Emily Thorne, another fourth year, comments through her laughter. "I think that that's two knuts you owe me, Harrison."

"Yeah, well, I clearly had more faith in him than you, Thorne," Paul grumbles, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the money out. "Perce? You alright?"

Oliver looks up at the mention of his friend, to see an almost vacant expression on Percy's face.

"Yes," Percy comments, his voice flat. "Fine. Just tired. I'm going to go to bed so I can get up early tomorrow and read through the new Potions textbook before breakfast. Goodnight."

"Is he alright?" Oliver asks, his voice hushed, sitting upright slightly. "He seems…more Percy-like than normal."

His friends nod in agreement, their three years together meaning that "Percy-like" requires no explanation.

"You didn't see him in the holidays, did you?" Paul asks.

Oliver shifts uncomfortably. "Well, I stayed at the Burrow in the first week, but I mainly played Quidditch with Charlie and the rest of them."

"Weren't you meant to go back in August?"

Once again, Oliver shifts a little. "Well…yeah…but then my Dad got me tickets to go and see a couple of different qualifying games for the World Cup and I mean I had to go and see Mallory play! He's a legend."

There's an uncomfortable silence for a moment, until Patrick breaks it. "Well, yeah that explains it. I think he's just decided that he wants to put more effort into studying or something, that's what I got from him when we met up in summer."

Oliver frowns. "But he's already, like, top in Gryffindor."

"He wants to be top across the year," Emily explains. "I have to admit, I'm surprised he didn't get put in Ravenclaw."

"Nah," Oliver replies, his mind taking him to distant places. "He's definitely a Gryffindor. I've seen it."

~x~

Almost within the blink of an eye, the Christmas holidays are upon the Gryffindor fourth years. Holidays which, for the first time, have a substantial amount of homework – though that's work that Oliver's planning on ignoring until well after Christmas.

The new – well, new since September – Quidditch team is strong, Oliver knows that. And it's young: other than Charlie, they'll all be here next year. There's himself and Spinnet, from before. Then two new Chasers – Angelina Johnson and Freya Hanson – and the Weasley twins as Beaters to complete the team. And they're good. New and slightly green, Oliver has to admit, but good – and perfectly malleable. He's certain that next year, should he make Captain, they'll rise to and exceed his game tactics.

"Hey," Oliver says, almost warily, as he enters his dorm and encounters Percy Weasley. It's been a strange term: whilst he hasn't spent his entire time playing Quidditch, largely due to Charlie's insistence on reducing practice to twice a week so as not to spend his entire life with his younger brothers, he hasn't really seen his former best friend. Or, former best Gryffindor friend. But, much like Edward disappeared shortly into second year except for the occasional family party, Percy seems to have almost disappeared. Whenever Oliver returns from practice, Percy is in the library – and even when he's in the Common Room, he's in the studying corner with silencing charms on the walls to reduce the general din in the room.

He hasn't even gone on the last two Hogsmeade weekend trips, preferring instead to revise for upcoming tests – though in which subject he has tests, Oliver has no idea. He's fairly certain that he hasn't taken a test before the end of the year in any of his other years at Hogwarts, and he doubts that the year before OWLs would see them be introduced.

"Hello," Percy replies shortly, looking up briefly from folding his jumper into a perfect square. "You haven't started packing." He says it as a comment of fact, rather than as a question, suggesting he already knows the answer.

"Yeah, Charlie wants to do some practice over the start of the holidays," Oliver explains, before realising that his friend probably already knows this. He doesn't need to share, however, that it was his persistence that got Charlie to agree to run the mini bootcamp for their newest players. "We're heading home midweek by Floo, I think."

"Good," Percy replies, equally shortly.

"Good?" Oliver repeats without thinking.

"Yes," Percy says, almost as if he's talking to a child. "Because then it doesn't inconvenience our parents any more than necessary."

Oliver nods, before standing awkwardly, his mouth open. How have they reached this, he wonders. Just three months ago, they were able to have a conversation in the Common Room; six months before, they were able to laugh and joke about everything from the Giant Squid up to what McGonagall does on a weekend. But now…now, everything's different.

If he can be certain of one thing, it's that he, Oliver, hasn't changed. He hasn't become any more obsessed with his favourite sport – or anything else, for that matter (and certainly not Transfiguration). It's Percy who's changed, and not for the better.

"Do you want a hand?" Oliver says finally, after he stares at Percy's perfect folding for almost a minute.

"No, I'm fine," Percy responds almost immediately. "But thank you," he adds as an afterthought, his tone stiff.

"Right, well, I'll see you later?" Oliver persists, unsure how to leave this conversation without damaging their friendship (or whatever remains of it) any further. "And…if not, if you're asleep I mean…have a great Christmas. And a great New Year."

"You too," Percy replies, his tone a little less formal and more like the boy he was before. "Merry Christmas, Wood."

If there's anything that could symbolise the end of the easy stage of their friendship, it's Percy's clearly natural transition to calling him 'Wood' rather than Oliver.