Chapter 44

Percy's Point of View

The few remaining days we spent with the Gryffindors past swiftly. The Sunday – our last day of exile – kind of sucked. The good part was that we had a Quidditch match – Gryffindors vs Slytherin. The bad news was that despite being able to play against our brother, I had to face my fear of heights, and we knew that no matter how this ended, tonight was going to be torture. Either we would win, and would have to suffer cruel comments and probably be kicked out of Gryffindor to sleep in the corridor, or the Lions would win, and we would had to sit in a corner and watch their victory party. Which we had watched the preparations for the previous day.

Flint was waiting for us in the Great Hall for breakfast. Gryffindor had been dead silent around us all morning, as if scared we might catch wind of their strategies. Because we would care to cheat like that. Just because Harry was a Slytherin didn't mean… Well. Actually no. Any other Slytherin would have. But that was beside the point! They should trust us by now!

Flint walked us over to our normal seat at the Gryffindor table for the week, after a quick curt morning greeting, and shovelled food onto our plate with the firm instructions to eat it. I could sense Harry's nausea as he so much as looked at the food, and so shoved him in into the furthest corners of our mind, and started eating. Marcus had chosen a full English breakfast – sausages, bacon, eggs, black pudding… toast too. I almost laughed as I watched Charles push his toast around his plate. With confused hazel eyes, Charles shook his head at us.

"How aren't you worried? It's your first match isn't it?"

"Well, yes." I grinned. "And I must say Harry is just as nervous as you are. I, on the other hand, shall only be watching, not flying, so I don't really see how this is any other morning for myself."

Charles shook his head in exasperation. "Clever… I still can't believe you two are allowed to fly, due to being part of both Houses."

"Percy won't, at any point, be allowed to be in control." Hermione said. "I looked it up. Thousands of years ago, when an early version of Quidditch was put in place, and a twin-soul wished to compete, they were only allowed provided that one – and only one, was in control during the match. They couldn't switch at all during the game."

I nodded happily. "Such are the rules. And to make sure that they more than definitely cannot be breached, our uniform is coated with a modified version of that rather lovely dust that Fred and George created and pranked the entire hall with earlier this week. So much as a hint of me thinking of taking over, and the flashes of red won't be missed, don't you worry."

"You checked they didn't put itching powder in with it, did you?"

The slow drawl of Draco's voice sounded practically in our ear, making us jump. Turning and quickly hitting our blond friend before he could flinch away, I rolled our eyes at him. "That would be quite the achievement, considered the dust was brewed – and modified – by Hogwarts' very own Potions Master: Professor Severus Snape."

"Are you sure you should be throwing my first name around like that, Perseus? Merlin only knows I could put you in detention for it as easily as snapping my fingers. Or deduct points from Gryffindor… What do you say?"

I gulped when I noticed our godfather had also been standing a short few feet away from Draco. Widening my eyes innocently, I pleaded my case. While I wasn't too bothered whether or not Gryffindor lost points, they would have my head for it. Considering that I'd lasted this long, I prefer to keep it just until our exile ended.

"You would take points for a causal slip of our godfather's name while singing his praises? I must say, Professor Snape that would be rather cruel of you…" I begged.

I could all but see our godfather's resistance crumble under the force of my puppy eyes – which Annabeth had once compared to as seal-eyes, as a joke on our heritage. Hah! Nobody could withstand them for long…

"Well then. Catch us the snitch, and I will forgive your 'causal slip' as you put it."

"Consider it done, sir." I joked. "I'll urge Harry on myself, and will leave him no peace until he catches it."

'Please don't.' Harry moaned piteously. 'The crowd I can drown out, but you perpetual voice? If you want me to catch the snitch, I assure you that not encouraging me non-stop would be the best support you could offer.'

'I'm joking, Harry! I'm not that annoying am I? Besides, you know I do my best not to think and to thin the connection between us to the bare basics while you fly.'

'True…' Harry agreed. 'I'll win us that snitch, yeah?'

'YEAH!' I yelled wholeheartedly. 'Let's go win us a match!'

The changing rooms were a bustle of noise as the team go ready to fly. Green, silver and black flashing in my peripheral vision as our teams mates disrobed and got into their uniforms. Flint was yelling encouragement at the team in general, mixed in with death threats should we lose. Higgs joined in, hissing malicious threats to dismember us or drown us in the lake as penance. I was trying to slip into my mediation, but Terrance's last threat had me in hysterics, and it took me a while to calm down again enough to phase out the rest of what was going on.

When Harry marched out onto the pitch, I was watching everything that was going on as if through a screen. Like I knew what was going on, that it was indeed happening to us, but I had cut off my senses of touch, taste and smell, so that was left was the sight and sounds.

The first half an hour of the match went perfectly. Our Slytherin chasers scored goal after goal, quickly doubling any score the Gryffindor's reached. The snitch stayed stubbornly vacant, much to Harry's disappointment.

The Gryffindors called time out for a short while, in an attempt to ruin our streak and regain their footing in the match. Flint's pep talk during the time out was short, blunt and effecting. He put on a malicious grin, one that neither Harry nor I had any difficulty imagining containing pointed teeth and simply commanded that we "Crush them."

"Gladly." Draco grinned the same malicious grin right back at Marcus, and I idly wondered if it was a talent passed on down the Slytherin pureblood lines. I mean, the bloodlines were so intermingled, most purebloods were practically inbred, so if would hardly surprise me if it was…

Then we were back in the air, and a bit of trouble started. One of the bludgers decided to take a rather strong liking to our brother, trailing him like a baby duckling after its mother… Or perhaps more like a lion after its prey. Either way, it was fair enough to say that both Harry and I were beyond annoyed at the idiot who spelled the stupid bludger. Especially since it seemed to be locked onto Charles' magical signature rather than him himself. Considering that our magical signatures were pretty much as identical as we were (with the exception of our eyes) as soon as we flew close to Charles to try and help him, the bludger latched onto us.

Charles and Harry flew in circles round the bludger in what must have looked like some strange dance to the spectators.

"Trying some ballet, Potter?" Draco joked. Harry rolled our eyes. "Oh yeah, Draco. Really mature! Can you please get this cursed bludger off us?"

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried when Fred came to our rescue. That relief abruptly turned to worry when he hit the bludger away with as much strength as possible and it skimmed our head, abruptly knocking Harry out and cutting a deep gash in our forehead. If it wasn't for my quick reflexes taking hold of the broom we would've fallen about one hundred meters to the ground. Shouts of shock and outrage sounded from the spectators below as our robes flashed red, but I didn't have long to worry about them, because a moment later the bludger was back, and bashed straight into the back of our head.

The world immediately slipped out of my grasp. Then we were falling down, down a long way, buffered by the wind. Vaguely I was aware of yells and screams from the spectators, the commanding voice of Dumbledore as he started to cast a spell, but then pain seemed to erupt from every point in my body, and then nothing. Just a blissful darkness, and the feeling that I was floating in thick dark waters…

I didn't wake up for days after that. I'm not sure if Harry did, but I couldn't sense him in my dreams, so I presumed so. My dreams were spent floating round different places; Camp Half-Blood, watching Leo training and inventing, at Potter Manor, watching my mother all but pulling her hair in worry (that really wasn't very reassuring), or in the Chamber with the Basilisk. Or I was in the infirmary, watching Madam Pomfrey as she fussed over us. I occasionally caught glances of the Daily Prophet, and so could count the passing of time.

The most recent one I saw was a whole week after the match. I had become aware of our brother leaving the Hospital wing shortly after we had been admitted, maybe the following morning, and other patients coming in and leaving. There was one – we didn't see them come in, and they were hidden behind a screen – that didn't leave.

It was that Sunday that I was sitting on our bed in the hospital wing when I saw Harry wake up. He didn't endure such a knock to the head as I did, I figured, and so he recovered faster. Annabeth and Luna walked in a few moments later – no doubt down to Luna's incredibly accurate instincts. Worry was written all over their expression, but it cleared almost as soon as they caught sight of Harry struggling to sit up. I could dully feel the pain as Harry moved our body, but it was clear he was feeling it at least ten times worse than I.

"Harry!" Annabeth visibly held herself back from launching herself at him with a hug, well aware of the pain we were in. "Thank the Olympians you're alright. How's Percy? Anything from him yet?"

Harry shook his head, despair entering his eyes. More than anything else just then, I really wanted to pull his into a tight warm hug and tell him that everything would be ok. Of course I couldn't. Not even mentally. I was… kind of in spirit form, floating round as I waited for my mind to heal enough to re-join our body.

"He hasn't even been in my dreams. I feel… It's like there's a large black hole that someone's ripped in the side of my head. Percy's annoying half the time, but he's my brother and part of me…" Harry looked nothing short of miserable. It reminded me of last year, when Charles knocked him out during their fight, and there was then horrible emptiness and rage that Charles had stolen him from me…

Annabeth and Luna nodded, grasping Harry's hand comfortingly. Her eyes misted and Luna smiled at Harry. "I have an idea, do you trust me?"

Harry nodded, and her eyes fell on me. "And you Percy?"

"Yes! Yes! By all the Gods of Olympus, yes! Just… bring me home." I begged.

Luna smiled, bringing out a small flask that we recognised from our Quest with her. Harry eyed it warily, as if it might explode at any moment. I laughed nervously at the thought. Considering it was The Drink of the gods, only the Olympians knew what it could do...

"Is this safe?" Harry checked. Luna nodded.

"When taken in small quantities, Nectar had positive healing properties. Of course, we could try chucking you in the lake too, but something tells me you're not up to that right now." Luna assured us.

Harry took the flask, but before he could sip it, Madam Pomfrey came storming in. I groaned at our misfortune. The fussy Mediwitch grabbed the flask out of Harry's hand faster than you could say Hogwarts.

"Hey!" Harry complained. "I was just about to drink that!"

Madam Pomfrey sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose. "Alcohol is not permitted on school grounds, especially not to those who aren't yet legal to drink it! And especially not my patients!"

'She smells alcohol? Dear Lord. The Mediwitch is an alcoholic!' I mumbled. I noticed Harry perk up and look around.

'Percy? By Zeus and the Olympians, please tell me that's you.'

'Unless you've gained another brain buddy in my absence…' I teased. 'Is there any other than I?'

'The Nectar must have helped, even a little bit, just smelling it…' Harry mused. 'That or it's psychological – we think it's going to help, so it does…'

"Madam, I assure you that isn't alcohol." Luna promised. "Please! As if I would poison my sick friend with that soul destroying substance."

I heard her mutter something under her breath after that, which I think was along the lines of "I'm sorry Mr D, please, please forgive me and don't make me spontaneously combust..."

Luna then beamed innocently up at Madam Pomfrey. "It's a natural remedy that our summer camp uses to help people get better. It's spelled to smell and taste like the drinker's favourite food or drink."

Madam Pomfrey blushed slightly, and narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Be that as if may, forgive me if I trust the local Potion Master's input over yours."

As if her words had summoned him, our Godfather entered the Hospital with at that moment it time, his robes billowing out behind him like large black wings. He froze when he saw Harry awake, and a genuine smile lifted his lips, relief shining in his eyes.

"You're awake! Thank Merlin. Don't you ever do anything like that again!" He scolded us.

"Do what?" Harry retorted. "Play Quidditch, or get attacked by a cursed bludger trained on our magical signature? I thought I make it a hobby, considering how fun that was."

Severus rolled his eyes fondly, before training a mock (but fairly convincing) glare he had trained on us. Before they could barter anymore words, Madam Pomfrey intervened.

"Professor, I caught our little Raven Luna here attempting to give this to Harry and Percy here. She claims it is some sort of healing potion, but it smells awfully like alcohol to me."

Our godfather took the flask from the Mediwitch and sniffed it cautiously, a small smile on his lips. "I wouldn't call it a healing potion, exactly. This is Nectar, a rare and difficult potion to brew. As I have no doubt young Luna here told you, it imitates the taste and smell of the drinker's favourite food or drink. Anything you'd like to own up to?"

Madam Pomfrey blushed, looking down but Severus shook his head before she could say anything.

"Never mind. I was wrong to tease. Merlin knows you most certainly are not someone who indulges themselves in drink. I myself am quite partial to a glass of firewhisky every now and again. But back to the matter at hand, Nectar works specially heals cuts and wounds – it also has a similar affect as the pepper-up potion. However, it only works on certain individuals, and can cause other's to grow very sick. However, I happen to know this is not the case with my young godsons here. It will help them." Severus winked at Harry, handing him the flask. Quickly, Harry took a small sip, and sighed as the warmth travelled though him. I could feel it too, summoning me back.

I shut my eyes, and suddenly I was seeing everything from where our body was lying on the bed.

'Ah.' I sighed happily. 'Hey again.'

Harry grinned. 'Hey to you too, stranger.'

Luna grinned at us. "Welcome back, Percy."

Severus gave her a worried look. "What do you mean?"

I sighed, and blinked a few times happily. "I was… drifting, slightly, I suppose… But he's back now!"

Harry finished my sentence, the same feeling of happy contentment flowing through the bond from him as I felt. Our bond was wide open, as we didn't want any form of barrier separating us. Not now, and not for a short while, either.

A slightly miffed Madam Pomfrey and our godfather helped us sit up, bring the rather huge pile of sweets and chocolates piled at the end of our bed into view. Severus grinned at our expression.

"I do believe that every Slytherin contributed to that pile in some way, as did a few of the friends you've made in Gryffindor over you time with them."

"But… why?" We shook our head in confusion. "We lost the game. Surely Slytherin's slightly mad at us?"

Annabeth and Luna burst into giggles. "Harry, Percy… when you fell, the snitch got caught in your sleeve. After you Percy blacked out, your robes flashed back to green, so Gryffindor had absolutely no grounds to claim that you didn't win the snitch. You won fair and square. Not the most heroic way to win a match, perhaps, but it worked."

We laughed with her. "Indeed… Any other important school news? Merlin knows we always seem to miss something…"

Nobody in the room was smiling anymore. Even Luna's cheerful look was grave. We stiffened, terrified at what the news might be now.

"The Heir of Slytherin has… acted on their threat." Madam Pomfrey told us quietly. "Colin Creevey was petrified the same night you were brought in here."

We paled. But no! The basilisk wouldn't… she wouldn't! Unless… unless the 'fiery-haired imposter with the false master's voice…' No! That wasn't worth thinking of.

"Do you… do you know what – or who – got him?" We asked with a shaky voice.

Everyone shook their head. "Unfortunately not. He was taking a picture at the time, but it fried the film on his camera. We have absolutely no evidence to go on."

We had pretty much just one thought to go with that. Well Hades. We're all dead if our reptile friend is being controlled by the 'false master'… again. That or without a school.