41. many things
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Hogwarts gets weirder over the course of time. One could say it was all because of Umbridge (an appealing change from blaming everything on Potter) but this time, hands pointed to another person.

Percy was liked well enough among all except that there was a edge to her that unnerved everyone. Some reckon it's the scars running across every visible piece of skin. Her easy way with a sword might be a concern too. It was her though, the way she held herself on alert all the time, her grim smiles and her dark, dead eyes.

Thus, it's no wonder that Katie Bell's attack was pinned on her.

It didn't end with that. The early chill creeping in and the wilting plants were blamed on her as well.

Harry Potter, the Chosen One and Percy Jackson, the Dark One or the evil one or the black one—that wouldn't be right. The title was yet to reach a consensus. What was in agreement however was that both were wizards that people have to keep away from and trip them down the stairs.

That didn't work with Percy. Not only did she not trip but came back to the tripper with an extremely concerned look and inquire if anything was wrong with their leg.

Percy or even anyone else is not so sure where all the accusations came from. She does have an intimidating posture, a result of the combination of her mother's words that even if they have nothing, they have their pride and leading armies and her intensive training over the years. Her eyes do glow or rather seem to glow sometimes. She had her Dad's face and so looked frighteningly blank all the time. Her voice rumbles when she speaks and that's because of her Dad as well.

Of course, she calls Minerva 'witch lady' because that was who she was. There was the matter of her scars as well and the tattoos. Both were suspected to be more than what was shown.

Slughorn flinches at her simple 'thank yous', Minerva peers unblinking when she turns teacups into rodents, Sprout's eyes don't leave her until she exits the greenhouse. Flitwick is overjoyed with her knack for charms. Sinistra as well. Binns doesn't care. Snape tries to appear the same but he might be a tad bit impressed with her potion making skills though he will never admit.

Dumbledore observes and it's the most concerning thing for her. She keeps her head down, does her work and flees to camp every weekend.

"I don't care," she tells Grover once after all these have been relayed to him. She's not sure she doesn't but she hopes it'll wipe off his worried gaze.

The next week she knocks on his door at an ungodly hour and doesn't say anything. Grover yawns, grabs her hand and pulls her to his bed to sleep side by side as they have been doing for years from dorms to forest floors to alleys.

She does not care but she keeps going back to camp. To be hugged by Grover, ruffle Nico's hair, watch Piper charmspeak the cabins to not hypnotise the president and Jason smile dopily at her, spray water on Clarisse on the rare days she's not in college and to receive awkward pats from Chiron and occasionally, Mr. D.

She goes to Camp Jupiter to oversee the drills. She does her duties as the Honorary Preator. She smiles at the adorable Hazel and Frank.

She doesn't care. The DA is terrified and in awe of her at the same time. She teaches and they learn. Her own house and friends she has collected from the others promise to punch anyone that dares to say or do more.

She doesn't care. She tells them as much.

Harry stops her after DA meeting one night, carefully avoiding Cho's expectant stare.

"Want me to cause a distraction?" She already has a crooked grin and a mischievous glint that slides to Harry's maybe-crush-might-be-more. "Make a run for the door?"

"No," To his own surprise, he is not annoyed. Color rush to his cheeks and he is thankful for his dark skin. "It's not that."

"What is it?" She prompts when nothing else seems forthcoming, her eyebrows raised.

"The rumours," he says in a rush, looking somewhere to her left.

"Oh," Percy's smile returns, a small sad thing. "I can step down then?"

"No Percy," his eyes flick back to hers. He breathes deeply, "I know how it feels like. Hogwarts is the best place but sometimes," he bites the inside of his cheeks, feeling like a traitor as he voices it, "people here believe in stupid things."

She blinks down at him. "Oh," she realises.

"The best thing to do is to ignore them, that's what Hermione says," he nods jerkily, agreeing but not quite. "Most times, you'll wanna punch them but don't do that. If you want any help—"

"You're here?" She finishes, not quite amused but understanding.

Harry nods, embarrassed beyond belief. He should have confronted Cho instead.

"With all that happened with Mr. Weasley—"

"It was wrong," he rushes through his practised speech, "I was upset. Nothing I can do when I have a Dark Lord cosying up in my brain,"

"Wait, what?"

"Oh yeah, Voldemort has been sending me visions and possibly reading my mind—not to worry though, I'm learning occlumency." He winces. "I'm shit at it though."

"Still, you're saying all this—after my grandfather—?" It's the first time he's been referred to as such in along time.

"I have the man here," it's with a defeated tone he taps his temple. "You're many things Percy but you're not him."

Harry smiles. Percy does too.

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42. used to this

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He doesn't care. She doesn't leave.

He tries to stretch his indifference to her extended stay and it's not so hard. Percy might have expected an evil lair aglow in green or even evil laughter here and there but there was nothing.

It's eerily similar to their study sessions spent in the Common Room but reduced to the two of them. He sits by his desk and works on his notes on potions. Sometimes, he switches to the work table to stir something in the cauldrons.

It's as illegal as it can get. To sit by and watch your Prefect brew poison to assassinate the Headmaster.

She does nothing though.

"What're you doing here?"

She is working on her Muggle Studies homework the next night when he arrives. Her satisfied smirk says it all. She did look pleased beyond reason when she dealt with that particular subject.

"I'm not disturbing you,"

"That's not my question,"

"It's not your castle, is it?"

"It is my room though,"

She doesn't deign it with a reply. Simply hums and turns back to her homework. Perched by the window with too many blankets, she truly wasn't disturbing him. She wasn't even breathing too loudly.

The window she had summoned at will looked over a scene similar to the one in the Common Room but brighter and more of life than what he was used to. It cast light on his potions and he couldn't bring himself to complain.

"You're training them then?" He asks after two weeks of absolute silence. Silence he vowed to himself that he would never break. The sharp sword in her hands prompts it though.

"Yeah," she sighs and it's sad. He wants to ask but he doesn't.

It's another week gone before he asks another, "You're being accused of many things around here,"

He doesn't expect her to huff, "Yeah,"

"Have you thought that it might be because of your acquaintance with me?"

"I know it's part of it," she says instead, twirling a pen in her hands. She is perched on the armchair she's claimed as her own. "It's funny though,"

He lifts his eyes from his textbook to see her bitter expression. He waits before impatience creeps up on him. "What is? Is being hailed as a dark witch so humorous?"

"Being hailed as a dark witch," she parrots, the amusement there and gone, "for all the wrong reasons. If only they knew what I've done," her lips twist and her gaze falls to her hands, inhumanely still in the moonlight.

"And what've you done?" He's almost scared to ask.

Any trace of vulnerability falls away as she challenges him, pinning him with her gaze, "Would you tell me what you've done if I told you?"

"And why would I?"

"Why would I then?"

Draco sighs, every sleepless night catching up to him to line up beneath his eyes. "Why're you really here?"

She feels something close to pity for him.

"Is this alike what you did for that second year Gryffindor? Something for you to pat yourself on the back?"

That something gets lost as she leans forward, raising her eyebrows. "Is that what you see yourself? Someone to be saved?"

"I think that's what you see me as," his tone doesn't allow any doubt.

"I do not," she shakes her head. "I—" she starts and fails. "I'm here because it's nice down there,"

He listens, tilting his head to the side curiously.

"But still it's not something I'm used to,"

"This is something you're used to?" He asks once nothing seems to be forthcoming.

She nods, almost shameful.

"War is something you're used to?"

"You call this war?"

"What else do you call this?" He brandishes his arm to the room and the loose parchments flutter. The notes for poisons and the maps of the castle meld together until nothing is recognisable.

She looks at it. An inhuman expression takes over her features. Familiarity is an odd look on her for it hasn't graced her in all the time she has been here.

"I guess so. This is war."

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Pansy's lost to her thoughts and this spells nothing but trouble for the entirety of Hogwarts. Blaise tells her so.

Theo, on the other hand, disagrees. He doesn't believe that she ever thinks. When his armchair magically vanishes at the moment he lowers himself, it's the wish of the Great Slytherin himself for his lies. At least, that's what Millicent claims.

Draco takes the bait. It's more like he grasps the bait in his hands and places it off to the side like one may do with their misbehaving cat that thinks their owner's assignment is the most shreddable thing. "What is it Pansy?"

"I've been thinking,"

"About what?" Theo follows.

"Any chance its about my Herbology assignment?"

"No Astoria, it's far more bigger than that,"

"What's bigger than Professor Sprout's wrath? Tell me soon so I can die at it's hand before I could face hers."

Any snorts of laughter at Millicent's words vanish when Pansy says, "The war,"

"That we won't be alive for if we don't submit the assignment," Astoria's mumble is hardly acknowledged.

"What about it Pansy?" Draco asks in that measured tone that he uses for the specific subject.

"The war that's gonna come and kill us all,"

"Just the lovely thought I wanted for the evening,"

"Allow me to add to it Zabini," they groan as one at Theo's intrusion, "we'll be protected from all its horrors when we join You-Know-Who," and its stupid, of course.

"Being under the man brewing the war will save us from the horrors of it," Draco recounts, his expression a little too interested, "brilliant logic, Nott."

The brief feeling of triumph at persuading the blond fades with the realisation that he's being mocked at. The delay in his own realisation alongwith their barely held in laughter makes him yell, "Why do you never understand—?"

Draco pokes at his own silencing charm around them and nods to himself when he finds those intact. "Pansy, any particular reason for you to bring this up?"

"We'll have to be ready as well,"

"The Dark Lord—!"

"Will not like you parading his name about in public spaces, Nott," Draco snaps, making a short gesture at all those gaping at him. Magic can only hide his idiotic words but not his idiotic self.

The other Slytherins conspicuously looked on at the silently screaming Theodore Nott and wondered what their argument was about now. His favourite person to yell at was notably absent after all.

"And has not been actively training his child soldiers," Blaise observes as one might comment on the weather.

Pansy hums in agreement, grinning that finally someone sees her perspective of things. "Dumbledore though,"

"We're better skilled than them already—"

"The so called 'light' side is better at it," Astoria snorts, "who would have thought?"

"Literally everybody,"

"That's why they win,"

Draco tries for the last time, "Any reason—?"

"Yes yes, we have to be ready as well," Pansy reasons.

"We're learning already Pans. What more do you want us to do?"

"Let's ask Percy,"

"Ask her what?" With Draco's tone, one may think she had spoken of the supposed troll residing in the Forbidden Forest.

"To teach," she matches his tone, regarding him to be the dumbest individual in turn.

"Swordsmanship?" Blaise gives his sole support to Draco then. "I never pegged you to be daft of all people,"

"I did," Theo's life is ensured by his choice to whisper out of Millicent's hearing range.

"And we do what with that? Wave a sword at a killing curse?"

"No," her pause is for the drama as well as to intimidate, "wave it at the monsters,"

"The monsters?"

"That's true then?"

"Are you blind as well as stupid?"

"Percy!"

The said girl they've been waiting to ambush walks by, offering a wave without lifting her eyes from the parchment in her hands.

"We have to learn as well."

Percy's quill freezes upon her parchment, then she resumes and continues without a look at the others. "No,"

"Why not?" Each had their own manner of drawing answers from others or rather manipulating people. The fact that Pansy's chosen abandon her own strategy of whining to take a page out of Draco's book. As in, asking enough questions to rattle their morals and push them into a crises which would give them no choice but agree.

"Why should I?"

"Because we're asking, nicely," Draco adds and by the gods, is this his way of revenge for her standing vigil for his assassination attempts?

Percy rolls her eyes. So there is this she has to deal with. "No,"

"Why not!" Pansy's adopted strategy does not stay with her for long. She falls back on her couch with loud whine, throwing up her hands. "You're teaching the Gryffindorks!"

"Yes, you are,"

Percy would have been able to keep up with her steadfast denial if only Millicent hadn't quietly agreed.

"It's not that--you know how they are! I can't stop them, the least I can do is teach them not to die."

"So you don't want them to die yet—"

She doesn't let Theo finish. "I thought you lot had better self preservation,"

"And we do," Draco wouldn't have bothered to step in but her glare really is vicious and he pities Theo, "which is precisely why we're asking." He is not. He just thinks its funny to see her recognising it to be his way of payback.

Percy's emotions wash away and they tilt back the slightest, unsure if its her thinking face or her murder face. Frankly speaking, she does not know. Those willingly stepping into the war—although they were kind of forced into it—and training them is different. But, these guys, on the other hand, they were so intwined in this mess that there's no way—never mind the thought of escaping it.

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fun, odd, kinda important (but not to the plot?) chapter next?

I want to finish this before the year ends. I enjoy this a lot but new year and new beginnings and a New Year's Eve gift and I right? And oh my god, I don't remember writing this at all