Part III

...

Percy was pacing the length of his dormitory, sighing under his breath and muttering incoherent words and broken sentences. Occasionally, he would stop and sit at his desk, which was a transfigured bedside table, and stare aimlessly at his History of Magic book, not even attempting to process the words. This would last a matter of minutes before he was on his feet again.

He looked outside the window, realising it was pointless to do so, but continued either way. He could not see anything other than darkness. He hadn't expected to spot anything. Hermes was too darkly coloured to be easily spotted in the dead of the night, which, for an owl, had many advantages. Besides, it had only been three days since Percy sent a message to Charlie asking, politely of course, what on earth he was thinking writing such a message to Oliver and whether or not he fully understood the implications if said message were to wind up in the wrong hands - if. Obviously, he did not expect a reply instantly – Charlie was a busy man after all. It had, however, done very little to stop him from becoming anxious the moment Hermes left Hogwarts with the parchment rolled neatly between his talons.

So far, Marcus Flint had done very little to uphold his end of the threat he made. He made comments and snide remarks, which Oliver remained oblivious to, but nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't that Flint worried him – no, he could hold his own against him any day. No, what worried Percy the most was the damage to other people that Flint could inflict. He was not above being ruthless and downright vicious at times.

"Oi, mate – quit it!"

Percy stopped. When had Oliver come into the dorm?

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Well that sounded sincere," Oliver groaned, closing his eyes as he lay on his bed, hands propped at the back of his head.

"What?" Percy inattentively responded, forcefully pulling the chair out, cringing at the scraping sound its legs made against the wooden floor, and throwing himself down. Sometimes there were disadvantages to sharing a dormitory with only one other person, being that forced conversation became awkward very quickly and if one person had a problem, it would directly affect the other as they had no other person to direct the attention to. Percy briefly wondered whether the sixth year girls had any problems of the sort, because it surely must become problematic sharing a room with eight people altogether. An influx of girls and a shortage of boys. The notion was nothing but laughable really.

"What's your problem?" Oliver snapped, sitting up fully.

Percy turned his head towards Oliver, shocked upon seeing the other wearing mismatched pyjamas and sitting up in bed, covers bunched around his waist. Was it that late already? How had he not realised?

"Sorry," he repeated softly, genuinely meaning the words this time.

"You're up and down – up and down," he said, moving his hands around to emphasis the movement. "You're like some kid who cannae decide if he wants to be a dragon or a broomstick when he grows up."

Percy stared at Oliver, deadpanned expression across his face. "Sounds like Charlie…"

"Quit your blethering and let me sleep – okay? Quidditch practice starts tomorrow." With that, Oliver lay back down and turned over, pulling the covers as high around himself as possible.

Deciding that Oliver was correct, Percy quietly stood up and began to change into his own oversized pyjamas. It was late. Maybe he would hear back tomorrow.

A familiar trilling noise caused Percy to snap his attention to the open window, a small smile creasing his face as he saw a rusty red coloured owl (very fitting colour for a Weasley, Percy thought) dart in through the opening and circle the room before descending towards the desk, dropping a rolled message. Ignoring the muffled sounds coming from Oliver's bed, Percy gently ran his fingers over the tufted feathers, seeing a pair of bright eyes looking at him. He unrolled the parchment, reading the messy scrawl:

Dear Percy,

Firstly, you need to relax, little brother. Breathe – in and out. In with the good air and out with the bad.

Don't worry about that note. I can see how it could be easily misconstrued; however, I had no intentions of letting Oliver onto the team by those terms alone. He's a fantastic player … a little over enthusiastic at times, but that's good for team morale! Now, as for my actual intentions for the note – I was worried about you. Bill had just left and I was in my last year. I needed to make sure you had someone to stop you from working yourself to death – at least until Fred and George started. Oliver seemed like the best bet, seeing as you were already sharing a dorm. Besides, no doubt Oliver would have gotten rid of that note because it was nearly four years ago.

Also, I believe congratulations are in order: twelve OWLs! Fantastic! Bill will be chuffed when he hears the news (if he hasn't already, that is).

How is Ginny getting on? I know she's wanted to go to Hogwarts since Bill started but she's still young. You'll keep an eye on her, I know. Hope the twins aren't causing too much trouble. Tell Ron he's in for it off mum when she next sees him. She's livid about that car, you know.

Take care.

Love,
Charlie

Percy chuckled softly, feeling slightly relieved to have Charlie's views on why he had sent that note. His heart had always been in the right place, even if he had a slightly misguided way of expressing it. He only wished he had been able to tell Charlie at the time that there was no need for all this and that he was actually looking forward to being in school for a whole year without any of his siblings. It wasn't that he disliked his siblings, au contraire, he loved them all dearly. However, he had never been without them – ever. No, being a Weasley without any siblings around must be what the first years felt … that small, desolate sense of being alone. It was … different, to say in the least.

"Where'd you get this?" Oliver asked suddenly, causing Percy to jump, startled for a moment. He turned around, seeing Oliver holding the note that he had confiscated off Flint. "I left this in my copy of Quidditch: Through the Ages. I widnea leave that book lying around just anywhere, so why do you have it?"

"I took this off another student," he replied, folding the letter he received from Charlie and sliding it underneath his books.

Oliver arched a brow. "Who?"

Percy bit the inside of his lip. Telling Oliver that Flint found this note would be like fanning a flame, however, not telling Oliver could possibly be worse. He was certain that his words had the desired effect and that (hopefully) Flint was having doubts about the origin of the message, causing him to question everything.

What if though…

"Listen here, Percy. You're my mate and all, but-"

"It was Marcus Flint."

For a moment, Oliver stared at him; shock and disbelief etched across his features as the realisation dawned upon him. Slowly, he brought a hand to his head, absently running his fingers through his dark hair. "Bastard's had it out for me since - shite." Turning away viciously, he angrily paced back and forth a few steps before swinging around, slamming his fist to the desk, causing Hermes to fly away. "Why the hell didnae tell me? D'ye have any idea what's gonnae happen now? Do you!?"

"Is it true though?" Percy whispered in a voice so low that he was unsure whether he had spoken aloud at all. "Is that the reason why we are friends?"

Oliver stared, eyes darkening. "What's it matter if that's the reason why we're friends? What's more important here is that Flint is trying to tarnish my reputation by spreading some batshite rumours. How could you be so…"

"Oliver…"

Oliver stormed across the room and sat on his bed, turning his back fully to the other, using his wand to turn off the lights. "Donnae talk to me, Percy. I'm too pissed off right now to talk to you…"

To be continued...