Chapter Text
Percival (not) Weasley was having a very strange start to his third year at Hogwarts - regardless of the fact that that sentence in of itself would have been strange had it been 14 years ago.
During the first week of classes, and one Slytherin Hadrian Potter had been... a little bit outcasted. But as soon as he, who was clearly Percival Ignotius Weasley how dare you insinuate otherwise, had talked to Harry second week of classes (obviously in order to check how he was settling in and to make sure there wasnt another Riddle fiasco about to happen) soon the older years - and quite a few of Hadrian's year mates- were rushing to befriend him.
(Percival did not quite understand that it was the way he had looked at Potter when he was rambling that had the older students scrambling. He was, obviously, very beautiful, and the gentle smiles he sent Hadrian had the older years wishing it were them, or at least near the source of the smiles. It was apparently simple logic to anyone But Percy.)
One of those students was not Marcus Flint.
Percy was, rightfully, concerned. The first year flying classes had so far passed without incident in any session, mostly because Neville got into Hufflepuff and was safely watched over. Because there was no incidents, he wasnt taken by his head of house to his quidditch team's captain! But Marcus Flint was captain of the Slytherin Quiddich team, and if he didn't notice Hadrian's talent, then how was he going to form an emotional attachment to his dead father though a deadly sport he doesnt even know how to play?!
(Several Hufflepuffs were panicking at their Cinnamon Roll's panicked demeanor, and did not know what to do. This made them start watching the Weasley closely, to figure out what was causing him distress. Thus, they found out about Marcus Flint. And immediately took it the wrong way.)
It took four days for Percival to catch Flint alone, despite all his efforts. All he had to do was send a note telling him to meet at the astronomy tower at midnight (since Marcus was a Prefect he would not get detention for doing rounds, so Percy assumed.)
Of course, he did not sign his name on the letter, lest it be intercepted by Slytherins hoping to catch a Hufflepuff and beat them up. Or something. Percy didn't actually think that, he just wanted to be cool and mysterious.
(The Hufflepuffs seeing him send the letter freaked out, since it was quite possible that The Prettiest Weasley Since William was looking to become off the market, and that would not do.)
(Marcus thought it was some pretty pureblood girl looking to get with a Jock before shes married off, based on the lightly perfumed parchment and neat handwriting. He obviously accepted. He may be stupid but he isn't dumb, after all.)
So when Percy entered the astronomy tower and locked the door, let it be said that Marcus was not exactly expecting a Hufflepuff. Or a boy. Or a Weasley, for that matter. Flint quickly became panicked, as he knew the ferocity of Badgers about their pretty kids, and he was a sixth year! That's too young to die!
But Percival hyped himself up, drew up to his (admittedly small) full height, and strode confidently up the stairs.
He paused when seeing Marcus backlit by the moon, and might've drawn similarities to when Draco tried to kill Fumblesnore. Of course, Draco was extremely hot when he was about to attempt murder, and Flint wasnt so bad looking himself. Despite himself, Percy flushed like a tomato.
The sixth year abruptly turned from his panicked glancing (to find an escape other than jumping from the tower) to see a bright red Weasley, and immediately felt dread roll down his spine. Whatever was about to happen, he was not prepared to reject one of the kindest (and most violent) Hufflepuffs to date. And wherever this Weasley was, there was always another Hufflepuff nearby watching. Waiting. Judging.
It was, understandably, a situation where Flint was between a sharp rock, a hard place, and with a wand held to his throat. His reaction would have been reasonable to everyone but Weasley, who was not there for the reason Marcus thought.
So, Marcus tried to flee. But Weasley caught him by the arm and by the gods if he didn't have such powerful puppy dog eyes he would have made it.
"Listen, Weasley, I don't," he began, only to be shushed by Percy.
"No, you listen," Percival said indignantly. "I don't know who you think you are but you must be awful slow to have completely missed-"
"I really have to go-"
"No, you dont because you're going to stay right here and listen," Percy said stomping his foot and grabbing Marcus' (rather large) bicep with both arms and digging in his heel.
"Weasley I'm sorry, okay? But I just can't accept. What would other people think? Theres an age gap, and while it's not the largest in the world it is still too large! It would never work out," Marcus said in what he thought was a reasonable manner, having turned back to Percy and gently rested his hand on the third years shoulder.
It might have looked indecent, based on the fact that they were almost so close that Flint could smell the shampoo in Percival's hair; and also the fact that it looked like he was trying to pin the boy to the wall, or at least the fencing that's randomly placed around the Astronomy tower.
Percy was sort of vibrating with anger, thinking that Flint knew about Hadrian's talent and still deciding not to include him because he was too young. He was also mad that Marcus kept using his last name, because he thought they were at least friendly last year. Scrunching up his nose, and preparing to fight about it, Percival gets right up into Marcus' face.
"I thought I told you to call me Percy! And besides, you havent even given it serious consideration! I haven't even told you my offer, even. It would work out amazing, and it would help your.. your social standing or whatever if people thought you were the one to ask!"
Percival did not quite understand how vague he was being with his words, and also did not quite understand that Marcus thought he was confessing. His love, that is. To an adult in the Wix world.
"Percival, then! There is nothing to seriously consider, because it would never be allowed to happen anyway. It wouldnt last for anything longer for a day, maybe a week at most if no one knew about it, which is doubtful. And if anything, my social standing would drop, for daring to poach someone so young and- and pretty!" Marcus heaves a breath.
And then the door slams open below them, and Snape's intimidating drawl floats up through the stairwell.
"You better be completely and adequately dressed by the time I get up these stairs or else you will have detention until your children graduate."
Flint spares a look towards an irritated Percival, and immediately shoves him into the spare closet, despite his hushed protests. He then looks around for a place for himself to hide, and finds nothing. Resigned to his fate, he runs a quick hand through his hair and sits despairingly on the step.
Percy, of course, is entirely oblivious, and does not figure out the misunderstanding between the two of them. (What he had believed was mysterious could never have been misconstrued as... romantic.) And the indignity of being shoved into a closet! He'd already come out of one his last life, and he wouldn't like to come out of one literally.
He huffs and crosses his arms, sitting moodily on an upturned bucket he nearly tripped on. In the dark the only thing he could focus on - or see, really - is the faint sliver of light coming through the keyhole. It's an old brass one and the knob is dented from many years of use. Or someone chucked it off the tower he was in right now before they installed it recently but he believes that something like that wouldn't happen.
(It did, actually. The door needed replaced after Snape literally ripped it off its hinges the year previous. Someone had been using it as an illegal potions storing/brewing room using his ingredients from his own store. He was, understandably, enraged. He hovered over the worker as they replaced the door with a new one with runes to prevent such a thing happening again, and scared them so badly that they knocked the handle off the balcony.)
He heard Snape approach the cupboard and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. It wasnt the most comfortable, but it was the only angle he could have sat without hitting his head on the shelf of telescopes that rested precariously above him.
When Professor Snape opens the door (rather violently, might he add) Percy needs to blink a couple times, adjusting from light to sudden darkness to sudden light isn't all that easy, after all. Snape hauls him up by his collar, bringing him into the tower where Professor Sinstra stood with their arms crossed. They slightly relaxed when they saw Percival, but immediately turned around and glared at Flint.
"I had expected a better reason for you straying from your rounds tonight than a rendezvous with a third year," Snape drawls, releasing Weasley #3 from his spindly grasp.
"It wasnt a rendezvous, more like a . . . Uh. I don't know." Flint rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, nearly dislodging his prefect badge in the process.
Percy decides to take charge of the conversation, now that Flint seems like he wouldn't butt in every other second.
"I sent him a note to tell him to meet me here because every other attempt for me to speak with him privately has been somehow interrupted," he said, crossing his arms like a moody teenager. "I wanted to talk to him about Hadrian and his skill on a broomstick, but he wouldn't let me finish. I've talked to Hadrian about it, and even supervised him when he rode on a broom - with Madam Sprouts permission. He would make an excellent seeker, and after all, the rule for broomsticks is only about owning one, and nowhere in the Hogwarts charter does it say that a first year may not be on the house quidditch team."
Flint gaped at him, while Professor Sinstra relaxed obviously. Percival carefully didn't pay attention to the silent growl that was released next to him. Instead, he pulled out a (very carefully prepared, mind you, he didn't start this side quest of his as a fool's errand) time card that contained how long it took him to fly a lap around the pitch and Hogwarts itself, and his best times for catching the snitch. He presented it to the quidditch captain who stood flabbergasted across from him.
"Hadrian Potter has the best flight time since quite literally Merlin - I looked it up in the school archive. It would really benefit Slytherin team to have him as a seeker, I would think. Along with the connection it would give him to his father, regardless of house-"
"Harry Potter has more of a connection to his blasted father than you would think, Mr. Weasley. The way he swaggers about the hallways with his groupies trailing behind him is obvious enough to the fact," Professor Snape spits, snatching the time card from Flint. Percy frowns.
"Professor Snape, I quite disagree. First of all, he prefers to be called Hadrian, and I would like it if you would respect his personal choice upon that matter. Second of all, he hadn't even known about Hogwarts until his birthday this year! He has as much information on the Wixen world as a muggle born! And third of all, he hadn't known what his father, or mother, looked like until he saw their picture in The Rise And Fall of The Dark Arts - a copy of which I had to lend to him on the train. I think that is rather telling along with the fact that he hasn't followed in their behavioral footsteps, despite being presented multiple opportunities! Hadrian Potter is his own person, and quite unlike both of his parents whatsoever, which you would do well to remember as a school teacher," he says, pursing his lips tightly.
(He had kept that argument in his head since first year, when Snape made his classmate cry for not having the right knife length. He was almost gleeful to use it now, especially since Flint would surely be gobsmacked and questioned by Draco Malfoy - ever the gossip - in the morning.)
(Flint was gobsmacked, indeed, but he decided to keep his mouth shut tight for fear of retaliation. This Weasley could ruin his social life - that or his brothers would ruin his mental stability with pranks. He believed that it would be best to swear fealty or become subservient to this Hufflepuff who somehow had so much Slytherin in him that he convinced the Hat to not put him in with the snakes. Honey badgers kill king cobras and sleep off the deadly venom, after all.)
"I'll read over the time card and test him myself," Marcus says quickly, taking the sheet from Professor Snape's loosened fingers. "If all goes well then I will listen to your suggestion and put him on the team. He'd be the youngest seeker in a century, but only if he gets past tryouts on the fifteenth."
Percival Beams in such a happy way that Professors Snape and Sinatra literally have to look away.
"Regardless of whatever is going to happen to Mr. Potter," Sinstra says, carefully ignoring the sour look on his fellow professor's face, "Both of you are in an unapproved area past curfew. Ten points from both of you and a detention to be served with Mister Filch within the month. You may arrange the date with your head of house or Filcb himself, but if you both arent back in the dungeons within half an hour you'll be having another detention. Off to it."
Percival nods and quickly excuses himself, taking the steps two at a time. Cedric would give him a Look for the points, but two detentions? Madam Sprout would be gently dissapointed and that was always the worse punishment.
Flint acknowledges his Head of house and quickly escorts himself back to his common room, silent. Sinstra shoots Snape a glare and, slowly, he follows after his snake.
Professor Sinstra decides to check the closet, to ensure nothing moved or was missing, and lights their wand into the dark space. The shelves themselves are all in place, along with the step stool bucket they use to reach the upper shelves.
Beside the bucket was a small, torn piece of parchment that looked like it resided in a pocket.
Sinstra reaches down and picks it up, flipping to the opposite side to check for writing.
Upon the parchment is a phrase that twists their eyebrows confusedly.
"Current cannon divergence - |||||||"