Heads and Tails

Don't start that talking

I could talk all night

My mind was sleep walking

While I'm putting the world to rights

-Oliver's Army by Elvis Costello

Blood and mud

It was later, in Divination, when Percy had a chance to tell Oliver of his visit to the library, and the lack of his findings.

"Until we can decipher the runes, we won't be able to go any further," Percy said, as Trelawney predicted Joanna's future romance. ("A thief of Diagon Alley, I'm afraid to say, m'dear.") He drained Oliver's teacup, and looked at the unreadable figures. "You've got some sort of triton, I think." He looked at his tattered Divination book, a hand-me-down from Charlie. "Apparently, you're going to have a nasty incident with a blood-sucking animal."

Oliver snorted, received a loathing look from the teacher, and looked into Percy's teacup. He turned it around, and even shook it before he said, "Percy, boy, you've got the Grim." Within a second, Professor Trelawney was at their table, snatching the cup from Oliver and peering into it.

"Oh, my," she said after a while. Percy and Oliver exchanged irritated looks. "Apparently, you do have the Grim," continued the Divination teacher, "and a nasty one indeed. It's bigger than any other omen in your cup."

"Other omen?" Rebecca asked, leaning over Oliver.

Trelawney nodded. "Luck, money, love, it's all here. But the Grim is superior." A misty look covered her eyes. Joanna Boot scoffed somewhere from behind Professor Trelawney.

"What does that mean?" asked Rebecca.

"It means that the Fates have yet not decided your path," Trelawney said, staring directly at Percy sadly. "You might die, or you might be the happiest wizard alive." She handed back the cup to Oliver, and addressed Percy again, "Do be careful, my boy. Taking a wrong path might give the Fates the idea of a Grim! When do you have classes again?"

"Friday!" exclaimed Rebecca, now moving over to Percy's side with interest.

"I was thinking of starting on crystal balls," said Trelawney, "but maybe we will continue with tea leaves. Mr. Weasley, you will go first, next class."

"Ignore her, Perce, she's an old bat with no Inner Eye," Oliver said, as he and Percy left the classroom. "Loads of bollocks come out of her mouth. Fates, pfft, honestly."

"I know," Percy said, though he didn't look reassured. "Wasn't she supposed to have had a true premonition some years ago? I heard the sixth-years talking about it."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yes, like ages ago, and just one! Do you know what she told Rebecca? 'You'll marry a rich Quidditch player' and she looked at me!"

Percy laughed. "She has to be wrong, then. We all know you'll never be a rich Quidditch player."

Oliver punched him lightly. "Coming to Quidditch practice? Helen is giving your brothers a go."

Percy groaned. "There are many ways to have a rotten afternoon, Oliver, but seeing my brothers play Quidditch is not one of my top choices."

Oliver shrugged. "Hey, your loss." He waited for the rest of their classmates to pass into the Herbology classroom. "I reckon they'll get the position, though. Not many want to be Beaters."

Percy winced slightly as he remembered Alfred Moore, the Beater from last year, who had had a nasty accident and fallen from his broom during the game against the Slytherin. How Flint had laughed!

*~*~*

At four o'clock, Percy allowed Oliver to talk him into watching Gryffindor's Quidditch training session. He had taken various sweets from his Hogsmeade stash. He had been munching on some Ice Mice when Penelope joined him.

"'ello, Percy," she greeted, laying out her Astronomy homework. She gave a quick wave to Helen, who was yelling something at Oliver.

"Hi." Percy moved over to give her space. "Did Madam Pince send you an owl yet? Ice Mice? Chocolate Frog? Acid Pop?"

Penelope shook her head. "No, thank you, and no, I haven't received an owl."

"Wood, you bum!" yelled Helen. "That was an easy one! Don't you dare miss another shot like that, or I'll throw you off the team!"

Penelope chuckled. "Is my sister like that all the time?"

"Well she did accuse me of being a spy for Slytherin once," Percy said earnestly. "And there was that time she tried to whack Oliver with her broom. But I think that was because he called her a Mud - well, you know."

Penelope nodded, and started with her homework. The Gryffindor team had started a game against their reserves. Helen was once again yelling at Oliver, who had been giving tips to the twins.

"The team that loses," yelled Helen, "is in charge of giving all the brooms a good polishing." The majority of the players groaned; polishing brooms was the most boring punishment Helen gave out, excluding jogging around the field.

Oliver was flexing his muscles and eyeing his team suspiciously, almost as if he suspected they would lose in order to make him polish brooms. Fred was to play for Helen's team, while George would be playing on Oliver's.

Percy watched, amazed, as the game started. He had always thought it was pure grace to be able to fly so quickly and so easily through the air. He had never tried out for the team, despite the fact Oliver said he would make a good Chaser. It might have been a big hit in his family if he earned a position on the team, his family being huge Quidditch fans and all, but it really wasn't that big a deal to him. Sure, he loved to watch it, but playing was different. By the look of things, Fred and George were doing very well and would probably earn the Beater positions.

Percy's gaze moved to Helen. She was well known throughout the school, and was considered one of the best Quidditch players. Rumor had it that she might earn herself a position with Holyhead Harpies, if not with England's national team. Oliver was positively envious. Helen was Head Girl and top in most of her classes, excepting Herbology and Transfiguration. Though not perfect in the looks department, she wasn't ugly, and she did have her fair share of admirers. However, her heart was set on her current boyfriend, Richard Jones.

Then, of course, there was Oliver, who had played Keeper since his second year. If there was one thing Oliver could do, it was fly. No matter how many games or practices Percy attended it still amazed him how Oliver seemed to be able to keep his eyes on every Chaser of the opposite team and still shout supportive comments to his teammates. While Helen loved the game, Oliver's love was closer to obsession.

"Game!" yelled Helen, breaking Percy from his thoughts. Oliver's team had won, and they were yelling happily to one another.

Oliver grinned, did a flip on his broom, and quickly landed next to his teammates. The Weasley twins turned out to be spectacular Beaters, and Helen was already welcoming them to the team.

"We won, we won!" cried George, looking pleased.

"Weasley luck," added Fred, with a wink.

Helen didn't look too pleased about having to polish brooms, but she smiled nonetheless. "Excellent Hells," Heather, one of the Chasers, exclaimed. "Party at the common room!"

"Good game, Oliver," Percy said, approaching the players. "You're an amazing Keeper. Reckon you'll be captain next year."

"Thanks," Oliver said happily. "Come on, I'm freezing." He looked back at Helen, and said, "Well done! I bet we'll win the cup this year!"

Helen smiled at him and allowed Penelope to tug her off to the castle. "Absolutely stunning!" the younger girl exclaimed, with a secretive look at Percy and Oliver.

"I doubt you'd ever win the Quidditch cup, Wood," a cold voice laughed.

Neither Percy nor Oliver needed to turn around to know who it was. The voice could belong to no one but Marcus Flint.

"Ignore him," Percy whispered, looking up at the sky. "Just. Bloody. Ignore. Him."

Oliver clutched his broom tighter, and started walking towards the school.

"Ignoring me now, Wood?" Marcus called out. "Or have you just gone thick?"

Oliver turned around suddenly, and Percy let out a groan. "What did you call me?" Oliver's voice was laced with poison.

"Not quite sure," Marcus said, pretending to think. "Thick, I believe."

Most of the Quidditch team had returned to the warmth of the castle, but a few like Heather and the twins were watching Marcus and Oliver with eagerness.

"What the bloody hell do you want, Flint?" Oliver asked.

"Let's go back to the castle," Percy whispered, tugging on Oliver's arm, but the taller boy wouldn't budge.

"Scared of me too, Weasley?" Marcus asked, his eyes shining mischievously. Percy couldn't help but feel he was up to something.

"Our brother isn't afraid of you!" Fred said suddenly.

"Yeah!" agreed George. "He could hex you into next year, Flint."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Weasel Wood - the new meal for rodents," he said, as if he were announcing a new meal. "Available at pet stores near you. A Galleon a pound. Would that be enough to buy you something, Weasley? I hear you live on scraps and hand-me-downs. Is that why your house is such a wreck?"

Suddenly Oliver threw himself at Marcus, knocking the other boy onto the ground in a blur of fists, kicks, and insults. The twins cheered for Oliver. Heather begged them to stop in fear of losing House points, and Percy watched. A rage had passed through him when Marcus had insulted his home and family, and it wasn't something uncommon. Every time someone bothered him about it, he felt like beating that person into a pulp. At the same time, it renewed the promise he had made to himself to graduate into a well-paying job. Money seemed to be everything right now. With money one could have power, respect, and a lot more.

Oliver, on the other hand, wasn't having a good time. Marcus had hit his leg, and it was hurting like hell. He was about to hit Marcus back, when he noticed that, apart from the struggling, Marcus was chuckling softly. "What. Is. So. Funny?" demanded Oliver, through clenched teeth, making sure to hit Marcus good in the stomach.

Marcus gasped for breath before saying, "That librarian gave me a letter to give to Clearwater. Apparently thought I had become close friends with that little Ravenclaw. I thought it might be -" He was cut of, as Oliver slammed him once more to the ground. The Gryffindor glared at him before stalking off towards the castle. Heather followed, clucking like a mother hen. Percy and the twins looked curiously before heading back themselves.

"Weasley," Marcus said, spitting blood onto the grass.

All three of the redheads turned to him. "What?" they asked in unison.

"I meant you," Marcus said, signaling to Percy.

"Go back to the common room," Percy told Fred and George. "I'll be there in a minute." His brothers looked doubtful, but headed on without him.

"What do you want?" Percy asked, his tone cold.

Marcus fished a yellow piece of parchment from inside his robes. "Wood left without this. It's for Clearwater. Idiot. Now I got beat up for nothing.

Percy looked at him, incredulous, without taking the letter. "That - that's why you picked a fight with Oliver?" he demanded. "Just to give him a bloody letter?"

Marcus shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? Give it to him where everyone can see? Sorry, but I can't put myself on the line for some letter."

Percy took the letter, and inspected it carefully. A loopy, elegant handwriting said 'Penelope Clearwater' on the front. He didn't know who it was from, and he really didn't want to ask Marcus, so he just nodded. "I'll give it to her."

"It's from Madam Pince," Marcus said, answering the unasked question. "If it helps us with the secret chamber, I want to know."

Percy stared stiffly at the bloody grass. "After this technique of yours, I'm not sure about it." He looked up again. "You know, Oliver doesn't want your help, and right now I'm not quite sure I want it, either."

"Clearwater does," Marcus said, "and I'm the one with the most Elfish knowledge, and --"

"But it hasn't helped," Percy interrupted. "We still need a book."

"I've asked for one," Marcus explained, his eyes falling suddenly on the Forbidden Forest. "I can't talk about this here."

"Why not?" Percy's face hardened, but he followed Marcus's line of vision into the forest.

Marcus opened his mouth as though to say something, but closed it. "I can't. Is there any place we can talk privately?"

Percy racked his brain. Broom closet. Empty classrooms. Great Hall. Greenhouse. Quidditch field. None seemed private enough for a conversation.

"This weekend, there's a trip to Hogsmeade. If we head on to the cliffs, there should be some privacy, but it may not be enough." The trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled for Friday afternoon, and today was Wednesday. Percy knew it'd be a long wait, but it was the only secure place for an important conversation.

Marcus seemed to agree, because he nodded. "We'll meet at the end of the road near Zonko's at five, then." He made to get up, when Percy reached out his hand to help him. Marcus looked confused, but accepted the help. He gave a mock bow, and walked past Percy.

*~*~*

Despite the ache in his stomach and the pain in his leg, Marcus didn't go to the infirmary or to the Slytherin common room. He headed to the more isolated side of the castle. He needed to think. He needed a rest from the Slytherins. He needed privacy. He shouldn't have looked for a fight with Oliver like that; it had been stupid. If the Slytherins had seen the fight, he would hear about it soon. Fighting Oliver wasn't something he could help. It had been going on ever since they had stepped into Hogwarts.

"Hi," a brown-haired boy said, as Marcus looked sheepishly at his broom. "I'm Oliver Wood."

"Marcus Flint," Marcus said politely. "Do you know how to fly?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, my dad never taught me. I'm going to practice this year, so I can join the team next year!"

Marcus grinned. "I don't know how to fly either. It wasn't proper etiquette at my house." He looked as Madam Hooch showed them how to grab the broom securely. "I think I'd make a good Chaser."

"Maybe we could learn together," suggested Oliver, with a smile.

There they were, Marcus mused, at only eleven. Carefree, innocent, life wasn't any better. Oliver had been his best friend. They did everything together; both oblivious to the competitive inter-house relationship between Slytherin and Gryffindor. They loved Quidditch more than anything in the world. It was the topic they both knew better than anything else. It something they actually loved. To both of them no Quidditch was the end of the world. Then, their perfect worlds fell apart.

"Oi, Flint, what you doing with that Gryffin-jerk?" asked Julian Pucey, a fourth-year.

Marcus walked over to Pucey, Oliver looking curiously from behind. "This is my friend Oliver," Marcus said.

Julian looked the scrawny boy up and down with distaste. "Flint, he's a Gryffindor!"

"Yes, so?"

"We're Slytherins, we don't associate with Gryffindor scum."

Oliver and Marcus exchanged puzzled glances. "Why not?" asked Oliver, hurt.

"Because Slytherins aren't worth the gum on your shoe," a new voice, Kurt Oscure, said. He glared at Julian and Marcus. "Come on, Oliver. You shouldn't be with them; they're bad luck."

Oliver looked sharply at the Slytherins. "I wasn't associating with them," he said sternly. Marcus's jaw dropped. "I was telling them to sod off." Kurt grinned, and patted his shoulder.

Marcus watched them leave as Julian muttered something about being really low.

Marcus sighed, and continued on his way. The next day, he had punched Oliver for the first time. He wasn't really sure why. It may have been in anger, or a thirst to prove himself to the Slytherins, but he had long since forgotten.. In any event, they were sworn enemies. He could never forgive Oliver for being so - so absolutely... well, there was no word to describe him. It's your own bloody fault, Marcus told himself, for associating with a Gryffindor.

Finally, he reached his destination. Marcus glanced at the not-really-blank wall. He knew the secrets it held, the adventure within it. He stepped through the false image and passed into the chamber. The torches still flickered, and the writing was still there. He was hoping that he would somehow magically remember the lessons his nannies had given him about the Elfish tongue.

"The Flint blood, my dear boy, has always been friendly with pure elves. Its language is not to be forgotten," his father would say. Marcus had done what his family wished he wouldn't; he had forgotten the Elfish tongue. Oh, bloody hell.

Then, of course, that led to something Marcus had always wondered. Did he have Elfish blood in him? He's parents had never answered that for him, always evading the question apparently. "Do hush up, Marcus," his mother would say. "Don't you have anything to read?"

The worse time was during family holidays. Everyone in the Flint family would come for dinner. Speaking Elfish was a must, especially with his grandparents. Even the Flint family rules were based on those of the elves.

*~*~*

Helen and Penelope both sat at the Ravenclaw table, talking about the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade. "Richard is absolutely divine, Penny!" Helen cooed. "He says we should get married after we graduate. Imagine!"

Penelope wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. "Married? Don't you think you're a bit young, Hel?"

"Well, yes, I suppose," Helen said doubtfully. "Maybe we won't get married right after we graduate. Perhaps a couple of years later."

"Wizards live longer than normal people," Penelope pointed out. "I don't see what the rush is."

"There's no rush, love," Richard interrupted, sitting next to Helen. "We don't have to get married until we're fifty, if you like." He kissed Helen on the cheek. "Though your parents might appreciate if it were a bit earlier."

"Yes, well, no one has said we're getting married," said Helen huffily. "Penelope, I think Percy Weasley is signaling to you."

Penelope looked over to the Gryffindor table, where indeed Percy was trying to get her attention. He seemed relieved when she noticed, and beckoned her to sit next to him. "If you'll excuse me," Penelope said, taking her plate with her.

"Looks like your sister's got a boyfriend," whispered Richard.

*~*~*

"Hullo," Penelope greeted, as she sat next to Percy.

Percy grinned. "Sorry 'bout that. Madam Pince sent you a letter." He handed the parchment to her. "Better read it quick. I'm to report to Flint."

Penelope arched an eyebrow curiously, but didn't ask anything. Instead, she read the letter to him:

Ms. Clearwater,

The book you requested is not in our possession at the moment. It is checked out. We are expecting it back during the first week of January, so if you still need it, do come then.

Irma Pince

Librarian

"Oh, bugger," Percy said. "Looks like we'll have to try another technique."

Penelope was not happy, either. "We could try sneaking into the Restricted Section," she said, "and see if there's something that can help us."

Percy looked appalled. "I am not sneaking into the Restricted Section! That's against Hogwarts rules! If they catch us, we'll be expelled."

He might have said more on the subject, but Fred and George appeared. "Percy, have you seen Angelina?" Fred asked innocently.

"No."

"How about Alicia, or Katie?" George said.

"What did you do to them?" Percy asked.

The twins pretended to look hurt. "Us?" Fred said.

"Why would you ever think we'd do something to them?" George added.

"Unless you mean how Angelina got wet."

"But we had nothing to do with it."

"Although we did throw a water balloon at her."

"That was entirely Lee's fault though."

"Yes, he moved when we were aiming at him."

Percy gave an exasperated sigh. "You two are trouble."

Fred and George grinned. "You don't have to flatter us, Perce," said George.

"We already know that," explained Fred, and they both went off to look for the girls.