Chapter Text
Ambition. Being considered great. Being known as one of the best.
Percy, even at the age of eleven, craved this. He could often walk around the house, failing to be noticed by his parents in the way he had hoped. He struggled to earn the approval he so desperately wanted. He swore from the moment he stepped inside Hogwarts, he would no longer be considered the quiet, good-for-nothing boy he was always viewed as—he would be considered the best in his year.
His mother loved him, and she always made sure to show him that she did. But there was something so degrading about being stared at pitifully. Like there was something wrong with him. No matter what, he would be viewed as the black sheep. The small, weak, strange one. While he admired his mother, there was nothing worse than feeling as though her love rooted from pity.
On the other hand, his father never tried to hide his pity. He could barely look at Percy, and he definitely struggled to look at Percy the same way he gazed at Bill with pride, and Charlie, who was rather gifted in Quidditch. He overheard his parents talking about him, a few weeks after the arrival of his letter—they doubted that he would be sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of the family. Molly attempted to play it off as though she didn’t care, but he knew it was important to her.
Bill was their pride and joy, really. He was handsome, charming, and elegant. He was intelligent with a mind that Percy couldn’t compete with in his parents’ eyes. Sometimes, Percy believed that they should have given up after Bill and Charlie. Then, they wouldn’t have to live with the burden of Percy’s depressing existence.
Charlie was the one thing that was really Percy’s. Siblings were the connection that no one could ever intervene with, especially him and Charlie. From the moment Percy received his letter, Charlie was the one who showed the most pride. He gleamed with joy, wrapping his arms around Percy, bringing him into a hug. The stars and the heavens and his parents and siblings were Ginny’s protectors, but Charlie was his. He spoke these words to him before.
“Everybody looks out for Ginny, Perce. Mum, dad, Bill, Fred, George, and Ron—but I’ll look out for you.”
Charlie was the one thing that made living at the Burrow bearable. With Fred and George’s discovery of pranks, it was a constant struggle. He was watching out for the buckets of water placed on the top of doors, the dishwashing soap they placed in the entrance of door ways, and constantly sending their siblings on a wild goose chase whenever they were looking for something—Ron was often the victim of those types.
“You really need to watch out, Ron,” Percy frowned, dropping his book. He decided to read all the books he needed for Hogwarts before he arrived there. Finally, he made it to A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot , which was a fascinating read to him.
Ron laid with his back flat on the tiled floor, attempting to lift himself off the ground, but continued to slip. Percy shook his head, grabbing a towel and throwing it at Ron. “Thanks, Perce.”
“No problem,” he smiled pitifully. He pushed his back against the chair, lifting it onto its two back legs as he found his very defeated little brother. “Maybe go into every room with a towel from now on.”
“They’d still find a way to get me,” Ron grunted, reaching for his back that was damp with dishwashing soap. He decided against changing as he sat across from Percy, staring. “I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts. Well actually, mum reckons I might be a squib. Heard her talking about it to dad.”
They really needed to stop talking about them out in the open.
“You are not a squib, Ron,” Percy informed him matter-of-factly, closing his book as he placed a mark inside it to know where he was up to. Ron lifted his shoulders, a resentful scowl creeping onto his face. It was awfully early to assume that Ron, a seven year old boy, had a chance of being a squib. He sighed. “I always thought I would be one”
“You did?” Ron gaped, blinking slowly.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“But you’re wicked smart,” he said. He gestured around the house, staring outside the window to find Bill, Charlie, Fred and George playing their own game of Quidditch that Ron and Ginny weren’t included in quite yet. “The smartest out of all of us.”
“Well, thanks Ron,” Percy smiled. He had never thought of himself like that. He always thought that title could be credited to Bill. But Bill was the handsome one. Charlie was the best at Quidditch. Percy always wanted something for himself and Ron was the one who gave it to him, then.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Ron said, interrupting the silence between them. “Always do when one of you leave.”
“At least it will be peaceful for you when Fred and George go,” Percy offered as some sort of consolation. Ron lifted his shoulders. But when Fred and George leave, Ron will only have Ginny. Ron was the last boy before Ginny, and his parents never allow him to forget, even if it was unintentional. So when it’s their turn, Ron will live with a constant reminder that he was their parents’ final disappointment before they got what they so desperately wanted.
As middle children, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron, they all had their own coping mechanism. Fred and George caused trouble around the house, because they would prefer to be scolded than be forgotten, or placed in the other’s shadow, which was a regular occurrence between them. Charlie attempted to be the best at something that Bill could never compete with. Percy used his brain, and Ron hadn’t figured it out yet. But the three of them, Charlie, Percy, and Ron all had each other to forget about their parents’ ignorance.
The resentment Percy felt toward Ginny was ugly. She was only six, but no one could ever compete with the admiration their parents had toward her. She was their sweet little girl—the one they always wanted. The remainder of them were just the battles they faced before they finally got what they desired.
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. His eyes searched the room, lighting up when he found another thing to focus on. He left the room. Well, he was only seven.
*
The morning of 1st of September was a wild one. Molly ran around the house, attempting to get everything in order, and ready to send yet another child to Hogwarts. They each had their trolleys ready. Ron sat on top of Percy’s, while Ginny was on Bill’s. Fred and George insisted on walking themselves that day, but Percy was sure they offered to do so with an ulterior motive to pull something.
His mother brought his head close, pressing a kiss against it as proud tears streamed down her face. Percy stood straight with pride, thrilled that his mother finally treated with the attention he always wanted.
The train whistled loudly, steam blowing out the front, and travelling through the platform. Parents said their goodbyes to their young children that were on their way to Hogwarts for the very first time. In the distance, he saw a young boy around his age. His hair was dirty blonde, covering his forehead, and slightly overgrown over his eyes. His parents held him close, unwilling to let him go. He tried to break free out of their clutches, but was unable to do so.
The boy turned his head, trying to rescue himself from being suffocated. Percy froze as their eyes locked on each other, embarrassed that he was caught staring at him. The boy arched an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lip curving into a smirk. Percy quickly rushed away, finding Charlie, who was lifting his trunk onto the train.
Charlie was in fourth year. He promised to stick by his side throughout the train ride—for as long as he could. And like every promise Charlie ever made, he did exactly that. They found an empty carriage. Charlie grabbed his trunk, throwing above his head with a grunt. Percy cringed. He didn’t realise how many books he had packed until he felt how heavy the trunk was.
Charlie dropped back on the seat with a loud sigh. He placed his back against the window, lifting his feet to spread them over the seat. He glanced at Percy, who already had his face buried inside a book. He lifted his eyes every couple of minutes, hoping that none of Charlie’s friends were willing to sit with them. He counted on the fact that nobody would want to be around his annoying little brother.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t. A boy slid the door open with another one behind him. He leaned his shoulder onto the doorframe, staring at Charlie. Percy assumed it was one of his friends, but the glare that Charlie met the boy with told him otherwise. He looked away, determined to return back to reading, and escape this awfully awkward moment.
The boy had a hair colour so dark at first glance that it looked black. As the train took off, sun rays shot through the window, showing his hair as a dark brown. He wore a black eyeliner circling his eyes, and had black polish painted over his nails. His lips curved into a smile, showing his teeth that resembled fangs..
“Another Weasley?” The boy said, pointing between them. Charlie nodded, but stared back at the piece of crumbled paper in the air that he was levitating. “Jesus, how many are there?”
“Seven,” he grunted, and with the flick of his wand, he threw the ball of paper into the boy’s face. Percy’s eyes widened in fear. Rather than the aggressive, hostile actions he expected to follow, the boy just laughed. Charlie glanced at Percy with annoyance. “This is Myron Wagtail. He’s in Gryffindor, too.”
“Right,” Percy replied carelessly. He didn’t care for anybody in his own year. He was struggling to care any more for people in Charlie’s.
“Oh, how cute?” Myron smiled, looking back over to Charlie. “He’s like a mini Charlie Weasley.”
“Get lost, Myron,” Charlie sighed.
“If you say so,” he winked as he left the carriage, leaving the door open. Charlie and Percy shared a look between them, both of them telling each other to close it, and both unwilling to do so. Charlie rolled his eyes, lifting himself from his seat, as he slowly shut the door.
“Cannot stand that guy,” Charlie muttered, popping his head outside the door. Percy’s eyebrows furrowed. Myron clearly didn’t hate him. “If he ever talks to you, just avoid him.”
“I doubt he would,” Percy mumbled, bringing his knees close to his chest with a sigh. “I have that type of nature that repels people.”
Charlie smiled. “Sometimes I wish I did,” he said. “So people like Myron would leave me alone.” There was a pause as Charlie twisted his body to face Percy. “But Perce, you should try to at least make one friend. It’ll make your first weeks here a lot easier.”
“Did you make any?” Percy asked.
“Yes, this girl, Nymphadora Tonks and Stan Shunpike,” he explained. “They’re both in Hufflepuff.”
“And where are they, now?”
“I told them that I’m gonna sit with you for the train ride and they were okay with that,” he smiled. “Seriously though, try to make some friends? I hear the first years are small this year. As in there’s not many of you, so it should be fairly easy.”
The past few years, the amount of first years attending Hogwarts were getting slightly smaller. Percy was born during the war, so students born in 1970 to 1981 were rather small compared to the remainder of the other years. He was relieved knowing this—less people to get to know and to put up with was a blessing in its own way.
“Okay, I’ll try,” and because he told Charlie he would do this, he knew he would really have to try. He felt a bit of relief, knowing that he was an annoyingly unlikeable person and that many people wouldn’t want to be his friend. But anxious, because even if Charlie reassured him that he could never, Percy was afraid of disappointing him.
“Hello,” the door slid open again, and he was met with another two boys around his own age this time. They had their trunks behind them. It was the boy from the platform. Percy looked at Charlie. Charlie raised his eyebrows with excitement, tilting his head to tell him this was a perfect time. “Can we sit? Everywhere else was full.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to kick off a friendship by being a last resort, so he shrugged his shoulders. “Of course you can,” Charlie, then, replied. The boy’s face lit up, and he pushed his trunk inside with his knee. He glanced back, sliding the other boy’s trunk. The other boy was rather smaller. His skin was tan, and his hair was cut into short curls with his edges lined up. He smiled, sitting opposite of Percy. “So what are your names?” Charlie asked for Percy.
“I’m Oliver Wood,” the boy with the dirty blonde hair replied with a grin, speaking in a strong Scottish accent. Percy almost had trouble decoding his words. He looked over to the other boy who remained silent. Maybe Percy could be friends with him. “This is Peter Jones. And you are?”
“I’m Charlie Weasley, I’m in my fourth year,” he replied. “And this is my little brother, Percy. He’s in his first year, too.”
“Hiya Percy!” Oliver smiled. Percy glanced at him, rolling his eyes. Charlie glared at him, tightly squeezing his jaw.
“Hello,” he mumbled.
“Very friendly,” Oliver commented. Percy turned to Charlie. Who did this kid think he was?
“Oh good, that was exactly my goal,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
“I can tell,” he nodded. He straightened as his attention went away from Percy. “What house are you in?” He asked Charlie.
“I’m in Gryffindor,” he answered. “And the Quidditch captain.”
Oliver gasped suddenly, both Peter and Percy jumped. “You’re the Quidditch captain?” He stared adoringly. He almost looked like he was about to jump at him and kiss him. “Big fan. I hope to make it onto the team next year,” he explained, and pulled out a binder that was identical to one Percy made just before attending Hogwarts.
“Where did you get that?” Percy asked quickly, his eyes wide in fear.
“Er, I made it?”
“No, I did.”
“Actually,” he flicked open the hard cover, and raised it to Percy’s eyeline. He pointed to big, block letters. Oliver Wood. “It’s mine. Do you have a binder, too?”
“Yeah,” Percy nodded. “My plans for the next ten years.”
“Mine is only for the next five years,” Oliver said, blushing in embarrassment.
“Both are strange,” Peter finally said his first words. His voice sounded as though it was about to fade away any second, croaky and low.
“It is not!” Percy and Oliver said in unison. Their eyes immediately found each other. Oliver grinned at him, and Percy looked away as his cheeks grew warm. Oliver sighed, flicking through the pages. “This year, I will be training at least three times a week. Then, next year, I’m gonna try out as the Keeper, same schedule of training, but I left some a bit more open for when I make it onto the team.”
“How do you know you’ll make it?” Percy said, immediately regretting it as Oliver turned to him again with an offended expression on his face and a hand spread his heart dramatically.
“Because I will, Weasley!”
The rest of the train ride was Oliver ranting about his plans for the next five years. The majority of it was mainly focused on his Quidditch plans, and how he aimed to be the captain by his fifth year. If not, he said he would kill himself, which was awfully dramatic to Percy. Especially about something that was just a sport.
He didn’t need to take any time to decide how he felt about Oliver. In the hours they spent on the train together, and how the entire time, his ears never felt a single moment of peace, he made the decision that he disliked him. He prayed that he would get sorted into a different house than Oliver, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the boy’s unfortunate honesty and inability to stay quiet for more than fifteen seconds.
*
Unfortunately, Percy was cursed with a last name that was so close to the end of the alphabet. Only five students were left, and he happened to be one of them, along with Oliver Wood, and another girl that he hadn’t seen before. From the first glance, he noticed her scar. It was hard to miss—a big slash across her face. As they were first making their way through the Great Hall, he noticed the whispers and the people pointing at her. And for once, he was glad that he was a Weasley, meaning that he was nothing new to these people.
Soon, that disappeared as he awaited his own turn on the stool that would determine his entire future and fate. He imagined the chance of being sorted into Slytherin that seemed like an awfully high possibility. He imagined what his parents would look like; the disappointment in their eyes at their son being an outcast yet again. He attempted to shove that thought away. If the house could detect his hate for Slytherin, maybe it would decide against it.
Peter Jones was sorted into Gryffindor. The hat didn’t even have to touch his head before sorting him into Gryffindor. He was the only boy sorted into Gryffindor so far, and the only girl was Ivy Violet. The hat pondered on her for close to a minute before ultimately placing her in Gryffindor.
Slytherin seemed to be the most popular house, having ten first years, which made up a third of their year. Marcus Flint, Elton Ivory, and Terrence Higgs were the only boys that he could remember the names of. Maybe because in the few moments he looked at them, he knew they would be sorted into Slytherin. The only girl he could remember was Gemma Farley, which came as an extraordinary surprise to him.
Gabriel Truman and Audrey Scamander belonged in Hufflepuff. He remembered Audrey, because of her surname. Her grandfather was Newt Scamander, the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them—that was another book Percy really enjoyed.
And finally Ravenclaw, only two names stuck with him, and that was Robert Hilliard and Penelope Clearwater.
“Weasley, Percy!” McGonagall, the professor who led them into the hall, called with the scroll of names in one hand and the Sorting Hat in her other. She immediately found him, but he wasn’t a difficult person to find. All she had to do was look for the blazing, red hair and she would have her man. She softly shook the hat as he hesitated. He glanced back at Charlie who lifted his hands up, leaving his thumbs up in encouragement.
He reluctantly slid his feet across the floor. Oliver placed his hand on Percy’s shoulder, whispering good luck. He nodded his head, feeling a sudden determination to put an end to his never ending worries and thoughts. He still prayed to be in a different house than Oliver, but had an awful feeling Oliver was going to be in Gryffindor.
He pushed himself onto the stool, resting his feet on the step. He looked above his head, closing his eyes as he couldn’t bear to feel the stares on him at that moment. Or the disappointment from his brothers if he was not sorted into Gryffindor. Or the shocked faces. Or the judgemental glares he would feel if he was sorted into Gryffindor. The hat was placed onto his head gently. He felt McGonagall take a step back as the hat abruptly began talking.
“Another Weasley…” The hat began, humming and thinking aloud.
“Please not Slytherin,” he whispered, crossing his fingers under his legs.
“Not Slytherin, hm?” The hat replied. Percy jumped at the sound of the hat acknowledging him. “No, you’re not destined for Slytherin.” Percy sighed in relief. “Gryffindor!” He jumped out of the seat, handing the hand back to McGonagall before she could take it off his head. He rushed over to the table, being welcomed by Charlie who put his arm around him. Bill was smiling.
“See, I told you everything would be fine,” Charlie told him, gripping softly onto his shoulder, shaking him.
“Congratulations, Percy,” Myron leaned over. Charlie blinked slowly, turning to him. Percy couldn’t figure out why Charlie despised that boy so much. He seemed nice enough, and was quiet enough to be considered tolerable.
“Williams, Eleanor!” The girl who was covered in scars dropped her head to the floor as she dragged her feet. She appeared to be just as anxious as he was, and as she sat down, she mirrored his behaviour. But barely any people had been looking at him—Everyone was staring at her, continuing their whispers. Percy wondered if she had done something to receive all of this attention.
Minutes passed and the hat still hadn’t said anything. People were growing restless. Percy stared, focusing on the hat’s mouth as he attempted to make out his words. His eyes narrowed. I can only sort you into a house if you let me in. But she didn’t move. Her eyes stayed shut, and her body looked like a statue, completely frozen as she awaited her own destiny.
The Great Hall grew tense as everybody waited, listening to any comment the hat had made. But it was as though it intentionally lowered its voice. Percy glanced at Charlie, and leaned closer. “Has this ever happened?”
“I’m sure it has, but not while I’ve been here,” Charlie whispered back. “I dunno. It must be stumped.”
He jerked his head back to the hat and the girl. “Very well, Gryffindor!” His face screwed up. That was something that stuck with him. Why did it take so long? And why, as soon as she opened her eyes, did it announce that she was sorted into Gryffindor? Strange it was. She made her way over the table, careful to not catch anybody’s eye. Ivy Violet smiled at her, but Eleanor stared at the table.
“Wood, Oliver!” McGongall called out. He was the last one. It all came down to this, really. Would Percy live his days in peace? Or would he be stuck with Oliver Wood for the next seven years of his life? Oh, how he hoped it was the first one.
The Sorting Hat was quick to decide. “Gryffindor!” It called out. Percy’s heart dropped to his stomach as the words echoed through his ears. Oliver ran over to the table, almost skipping. He really seemed proud of himself.
Oliver dropped beside Percy, his shoulder bumping against his. He blinked slowly in annoyance, shuffling his body closer to Charlie’s. He knew this boy for a few hours and hated him.
“Isn’t it cool?” Oliver leaned forward, his eyes bouncing between him and Peter. “We’re the only guys in Gryffindor and we’re all together!”
Not cool. It was horrible. Why he had been cursed with such terrible luck was beyond him.
*
Percy was right all along. Oliver Wood was the most insufferable boy he had ever met in his life. Percy shut the curtains around his bed, and still could not sleep. Oliver and Peter spoke the entire night. Despite Percy choosing the bed on the opposite side from the room, he was still tortured with Oliver’s constant chatter.
The following morning, Percy was woken up by loud music playing in their room rather than the alarm he had set the night before on his clock. His eyes jolted open as he shot up, startled by the loudness and suddenness of the music. He knew who the culprit was, because who else would it be? It was Oliver Wood, and his abnormally large ego, and small awareness for the people around him.
He swung his curtain open with a glare. Oliver smiled when he saw him. “What is wrong with you?” Percy grunted as he turned his body with his legs dangling off the bed. “What is with the loud music?”
“Prepping,” Oliver replied shortly, reaching under his bed for his stuff. He pulled out his broom.
“Prepping for what?” Percy asked despite knowing. For his unfortunately long train ride over, he never stopped hearing about Oliver and his passion for Quidditch. Percy hoped that he was a terrible player. At least then, he would feel a slight bit of satisfaction.
“I’m going down to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of training,” Oliver explained, dropping his broomstick onto the bed. Peter groaned, covering his ears with his pillow. Percy knew what he was feeling, because he felt it too.
“What’s the point?” Percy said. “First and second years hardly ever make it. And my brother is trying to make the best team.”
“Well, if I don’t train, I’ll have no chance at all.”
“Even if you do train, I doubt you will be good enough,” Percy told him. He didn’t care about how mean this might be. He just cared about being woken up by something that wasn’t his own alarm clock, and cared about other people around him having some sort of consideration for others, which Oliver failed in both departments.
“That’s rude,” Oliver murmured.
“Well, the truth hurts, does it not, Wood?” Percy sighed, lifting himself from the bed.
“You haven’t even seen me play,” he followed Percy through the dormitory. Percy threw his head back in frustration, squeezing his hands into fists.
“And probably never will,” he lifted his shoulders with a cold smirk.
“Well, if you’re so perfect, what are you good at?”
Percy thought for a moment. He was smart, but that would be a humiliating defence in the eyes of Oliver. He turned around. “Let’s just say that I do not prioritise brawns over brains.”
“Oh,” Oliver hummed, a cheeky grin growing on his face. Percy didn’t like that. “So, basically, you’re a nerd.”
Percy wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction. “A nerd that is probably better than you at everything,” he shrugged. Oliver folded his arms with a glare. One night sharing a room together and they were both already sick of each other.
“Name one thing,” Oliver added, his shoulders straightened as a wave of confidence rushed through his body. “And we’ll do it, and see who’s better.”
“Unfortunately, Wood, I do not care enough about you to do that,” he replied.
“Well, I don’t care about you either, Weasley!” He said defensively, leaning onto the balls of his feet.
“There is something we finally agree on,” Percy grinned, slamming the bathroom door, removing Oliver Wood from his sight. He exhaled, finally a moment of peace.
Percy twisted the lock on the door, ensuring at least a few moments alone before his first day. He laid out his clothes the night before in preparation. He was careful to wear something he felt comfortable in, but not so comfortable that people would judge him or make fun of him. Then, he had a robe that would mask any other insecurity about what he was wearing.
Charlie’s words replayed in his mind. You should try to at least make one friend. It’ll make your first weeks here a lot easier. He repeated these words as he strolled through the corridors of the school. So far, he had made an enemy of his own roommate, and his other roommate was too close to Oliver for Percy to be willing to be his friend.
Eleanor crossed his mind. While he couldn’t figure her out exactly, he knew she wasn’t looking for friends. As he stepped into the Great Hall, he found Ivy Violet sitting with the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. So, all the Gryffindors were out. His eyes searched the hall. Friends weren’t important to him, really, but he knew that life was a popularity contest. Those with the highest amount of friends were the ones who were safest.
That was when he found Penelope Clearwater. Her hair was a bright, blinding, close to white, blonde. Her eyes were a staggering blue, hard to look away from, but coming into contact with them felt like instant death. Her hair was twisted into two braids on both sides of her head, and her neck had piles of braided chains around them. She stared at her plate as she ate.
You should try to at least make one friend. It’ll make your first weeks here a lot easier. He sighed, letting his shoulders drop as he made his decision. He dragged his feet to her. He knew she could feel him approaching, but she never looked up.
“Hi,” he said quietly as he stood above her from the opposite side of the table.
She slowly lifted her eyes to his as he prepared to drop dead immediately. Instead, he was met with a warm, inviting gaze. “Hi,” she said back, her lips curving as she glanced around at the others in their year who had already formed their own friendships. “Percy Weasley, right?”
“Percy,” he nodded. She smiled. “Perce to my friends.” He lied. He didn’t have any friends. “Penelope, right?”
“Penny,” she lifted her shoulders with a sigh. “Well, my parents call me Penny, but you can call me Pen. Penelope is a bit of a mouthful.”
“Only a little,” he said back. She chuckled, appearing much more confident than she previously did. He looked around, unsure of what to say. He never had a friend before. What else was he supposed to do?
It was as though she detected his anxiety, because she spoke almost immediately after this crossed his mind. “Are you nervous for today? All the classes, new people, new teachers to get to know.”
He nodded his head. “I barely slept last night,” he told her. “That was partly because of my thoughts. But that guy Oliver Wood—he didn’t shut up the entire night.”
She giggled, her laugh transforming to a snort. “Yeah, he looked a bit irritating. Nice bloke,” she added as though she never meant any offence to him. “But irritating.”
“Well, lucky me, I get to share a room with him for the next seven years,” he grunted sarcastically.
“Well the only thing I can say is good luck to you,” she said. He smiled. “I’m completely new to all this. My dad came to this school, but it wasn’t the greatest time for him, so he gave it up. Imagine his dismay when my letter arrived.”
“My parents are both pure bloods,” he told her.
“Pure bloods?” She repeated as though she was unaware what that word meant. She really was new to this.
“There is pure blood, which is me, because both my parents are pure blood, then half bloods, and muggle borns,” he explained. “You’re half blood, because one of your parents is a wizard, and the other is a muggle.”
“Right,” she nodded, attempting to take in this new information.
“It does not make a difference though,” he added soon after out of fear of coming off as one of those idiotic blood supremacists that he and his family felt a great amount of hate towards. He never understood it.
“Oh good,” she sighed in relief, her bright grin returning to her face.
*
Percy was truly amazed at all of it. The magic, the professors, all his lessons. Luckily, his knowledge in his first lesson of Potions had earned him and his house ten points. Charlie later told him how unusual that was, because Professor Snape despised any student who wasn’t in Slytherin. He realised with those words what an impact Hogwarts would make—and for all the good reasons. No pity, no judgement, and no prejudice. He could finally be his own person.
Charms was one of his most notable favourites. Learning and acquiring the skills of using spells was something he loved. Getting his wand for the first time, feeling the gush of air and a bright light radiating from the touch of the wand in his hand, was enough of an incredible feeling on its own. Finally getting to use it was exciting in all the best ways. Professor Flitwick was a kind teacher, and one of his favourites so far.
Now, Defence Against the Dark Arts was a truly fascinating subject to him. Unfortunately, there was a terrible teacher, who automatically took a liking and favouritism toward the Slytherin students, especially that boy, Elton Ivory. Hugo Doherty his name was. Old, but inexperienced. Too inexperienced for a job like that, and the intelligence and brilliance of the other professors further showed that Professor Doherty was terrible.
Transfiguration was by far his favourite subject, and Professor McGonagall made the subject even better. She was clever, gifted in her pursuit, and stern enough to keep the entire class together. Nobody dared to step out of line with her. Many looked at her with fear. Penelope and Percy watched her in admiration.
Each of the students in his year were placed in the same class. There were only thirty of them, and weren’t enough to place in their own separate classes. Percy was endlessly grateful for this, because he had no interest in becoming friends with anybody other than Penelope.
Then, finally, on the final day of the week, he was stuck with his compulsory flying lesson. He and Penelope both dreaded that day. Neither of them were sporty people, and flying around on a broomstick wasn’t so appealing to him.
He and Penelope stuck together, getting a spot beside each other with their own brooms. Oliver Wood ran to the spot next to Percy before anybody else could. He knew why. He wanted to try and show him that he was good. Percy struggled to care any less about him.
“Now, place your hand above the broom, and say up !” Madam Hooch finished explaining.
He glanced down at the broom. “Up,” he mumbled, not a single note of enthusiasm. The broom didn’t budge. He sighed, and looked at Penelope who seemed to have the same issue. “This is stupid,” he said to her. She nodded in agreement, opening her mouth to reply before she was interrupted.
“Is it stupid?” Oliver leaned forward. “Or do you think that because you can’t do it?”
“I am not trying,” Percy told him. He looked away, and then looked back. “And I was not talking to you.”
“Oh, I know,” he said back with a smirk. “Maybe you’re not trying, because you know you’ll fail either way.”
“Shut up, Wood,” he grunted.
“Oh, look!” Elton smiled at the two of them, drawing in the attention of Marcus and Terrence. “Wood and Weasley are fighting like an old married couple. How romantic?”
“We are not,” Percy looked over to them. Elton pushed his shoulders, arching an eyebrow smugly.
“Yeah, we’re not,” Oliver added. Percy rolled his eyes at the sound of his voice after adding an unneeded comment.
He looked over to him. “Yeah, I would never stoop that low,” Percy said to them, targeting Oliver specifically.
Oliver laughed. “As if you could do any better,” he replied.
“Leave him alone, Wood,” Penelope spat, pulling Percy by his shirt. He smiled at her, attempting to distract himself from Oliver and the other three Slytherin boys who were cackling at their interaction. Especially Elton, who seemed very satisfied with himself. “Up!” She called out, but all the broom did was wiggle around the ground, seeming as though it didn’t want to come up. “Oh, I hate this class.”
“Me too,” Percy mumbled in agreement. He looked down at the broom for the second time. He raised his voice slightly louder. “Up!” He said, staring at it. Again, it didn’t budge. At least it wiggled for Penelope, but this broom acted as though it was purposefully ignoring his word.
“Up!” Oliver said, and with that, the broom rose to his hand without a second. It was the first time Percy heard him attempt it, and it went up as though it was meant just for him. This only infuriated Percy even more and gave Oliver extra ammunition. “See how easy that was. For me, though. Clearly, not for you.”
“ Clearly not for you ,” Percy said in his mocking voice.
“Even if you tried, Weasley, I doubt you could do it,” Oliver said. Percy was never mean to Oliver for the sake of hurting his feelings. He was mean to let him know that he didn’t want to be his friend. Clearly, Percy’s words had hit Oliver close to him, and in his journey to avoid the problem of being his friend, he had traded it for a rivalry with him instead. “I doubt you’d be good enough.”
Although Oliver was only repeating Percy’s own words from the days before, he said it with conviction in front of a group of people. So he could be rational and logical and repeat in his head that this was Oliver’s way of getting payback. Or, he could tackle him like he and his brothers resolved issues. Which one did he choose? The second one.
He shuffled his feet on the floor, turning his body to Oliver slowly. Oliver opened his mouth to say something again, but Percy didn’t want to hear it. He jumped out, grabbing Oliver by his shoulders, and throwing him and himself to the ground. He tried to swing his arms, which he managed to do a few times, but Oliver was doing a brilliant job at dodging or holding his arms back.
“Get up now, boys!” Madam Hooch called out as the students crowded around them. Only one in this whirlwind of events did he see the Slytherin boys who had never appeared happier in their lives. They were jumping up and down, commentating on the fight. They seemed to be rooting for whoever looked like they were winning, which was sometimes Percy, and sometimes Oliver.
He was only stopped by a force that he couldn’t free himself out of. Even as he was raised to his feet, he tried to break out of it, but it was overwhelmingly strong. Professor McGonagall held her wand up, staring at the two boys with anger. Percy had an instant wave of reality, glancing at Oliver, who he had never felt more hatred towards than right at that moment.
“Explain yourselves,” she said, letting go of the spell. His entire body loosened. His eyes were glued to the floor in embarrassment. “Both of you, come with me, now .”
The two of them were silenced by her, and did not give each other a second thought as they followed her through the corridors, too focused on whatever punishment they were going to be met with. It would be Oliver’s fault. Percy grew up with two older brothers, and two younger who never allowed him a second of peace and quiet. Clearly, Oliver was an only child, and too soft to handle any insult.
She swung open the door of her classroom with the flick of her wand. Percy ran all the scenarios through his mind. A call to his parents. Oh, how those results would be catastrophic. They would be furious. Or in his first week, could he be expelled? Would he be unable to attend his classes? He squeezed his eyes shut as he prepared for the worst case scenario.
“Lucky for you, my classroom needs tidying,” she told the two of them. Percy froze. “So, you will both attend detention on Monday.” At that moment, expulsion didn’t seem so bad. “This type of behaviour is unacceptable. The two of you have been granted the privilege of attending this school, and are stupid enough to take it for granted.”
“I’m not taking it for granted,” Oliver added on. Always speaking when it was not needed. Percy rolled his eyes. “Weasley started it.”
Percy scowled, immediately turning to him. “You said you doubted I would ever be good enough.”
“You said that to me the other day!” Oliver threw his arms up in frustration.
“Enough,” McGonagall said, silencing them both again. “Also lucky for you, it was the last subject of the day, so you can both return to your Common Room, and this better be the last time I ever hear of anything like this.”
“It will be, Professor,” Percy assured. He never wanted a fight to begin with, but Oliver had a way of getting on his nerves. He noticed from the corner of his eye how Oliver mouthed the same words, his head softly shaking as he did this.
“Okay, good,” she nodded, looking between them. “Dismissed.” They both turned around. Oliver rushed out of the room, avoiding coming into contact with Percy. Percy wasn’t complaining. This was all he wanted.
As Oliver swung the door shut in Percy’s face, Percy turned back to Professor McGonagall. “Professor?”
“Yes, Mr Weasley?” She replied as she placed both hands on her desk.
“Is there any way I could have a dormitory switch?” He asked. It was a long shot, but a question that was worth asking. He could hardly stand Oliver, and sharing a room with him for the next seven years didn’t seem like the greatest way of avoiding another incident like this one. “It is just that we share a room, and it does not seem like the best idea.”
She sighed, lowering herself to the seat. “I am sorry, Mr Weasley, but that isn’t possible. You, Mr Wood, and Mr Jones are the only Gryffindor boys this year, so there is nowhere else I can put you.”
“I could go with second years, or third years,” he offered.
“No, we prefer to keep you with your peers. People that you spend your time around.”
“But—”
“Mr Weasley, you are a very intelligent, promising young boy,” she interrupted. “You have a very real chance at becoming a prefect in a few years' time. But your behaviour has to improve, and whatever is happening with you and Mr Wood has to as well. You will be spending the next seven years together, so I suggest you let go of the grudge you have, or become friends.”
He paid careful attention to her words, but becoming a prefect was the one thing that really stuck out. If his rivalry, or whatever it was between them, put his chances of becoming a prefect on the line, he would let go of it. But, he couldn’t let go of his hate toward Oliver Wood.