The Future Will Be Better Tomorrow

The Future Will Be Better Tomorrow: Chapter Three

Oliver's big break came when Puddlemere was supposed to play the Tornados. Their current Keeper was getting a little too old, and decided he wanted to retire. It was rather odd, as it was still mid-season. But Rodgers claimed that he had a newborn granddaughter to bond with, and wished Oliver good luck in the League.

It was his first ever professional Quidditch match, and Oliver was brimming with excitement. However, as the game progressed disappointment started to creep in. It wasn't nearly half as exhilarating as a Hogwarts game. Maybe because he didn't know his opponents too well, and there was no sense of familiarity between them, like there was between him and the Quidditch players of the other Houses. He found himself missing playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. Sure, it was challenging, but it somehow just didn't measure up.

The Puddlemere coach, his Puddlemere teammates and the Puddlemere fans didn't think so though. As Oliver successfully blocked almost every Quaffle sent his way the game was slowly becoming one of the best ever Puddlemere games. In the older crowd, mentions of "Damon Lyndon" even popped up, as the entire stadium was blown away by his exceptional talent.

Oliver couldn't for the life of him fathom why the spectators became so excited, and cheered so loudly whenever he blocked a goal. There was nothing unusual about it, blocking goals. Also, the games he played in Hogwarts seemed more intense. In fact, blocking the goals started to become very boring to him. He just didn't know why. They just seemed to be lacking in some aspect the Hogwarts games had. He suddenly found himself wishing to return to Hogwarts.

When the game was over he was immediately surrounded by hordes of people. Which made him feel so lonely. It wasn't all what he had hoped it to be. He had thought it would be filled with people he was familiar with, and after the matches they would always go out and talk about Quidditch over a beer or two. He was living his childhood dream now, and it wasn't at all what he expected.

Which explained why he pored through the sports section of The Daily Prophet everyday, looking out for new signings in any other team, particularly the Falcons. But weeks passed and he never saw a familiar name.

Meanwhile, the wizarding world, or at least the sporting section of it, was abuzz over Puddlemere's newest Keeper. Also, as he was very good looking, Oliver received numerous letters requesting for interviews from witch-orientated magazines. He began to loathe the adult world, and all the frills that came with playing for the League. He just wanted to go back to the very essence of it, playing the game, and just playing the game. It didn't even matter if he won or lost, he just wanted to play Quidditch, and nothing else.

Quidditch was everything to Oliver, and unfortunately for him, Marcus Flint was Quidditch. Oliver would never admit it, but it was the truth. Oliver had been playing against him ever since his first proper match. The pick-up Quidditch he played didn't count, mostly because they never completed a game. The other players just lost interest halfway.

There were the other people like Cedric Diggory and Roger Davies and Cho Chang, but Diggory and Chang were Seekers and Davies played Quidditch mostly so he could get dates. Flint was different. He actually took Quidditch seriously, and Oliver recalled fondly the times they fought on and off the pitch.

He snapped out of it the moment he realised he was thinking about Flint. It was just abnormal. He shouldn't even have been thinking about Flint. It wasn't as if he was interested in Flint. He then grew more horrified at even thinking about the fact that he might be interested in Flint, and returned to combing through the sports section for new signings. He even vaguely considered subscribing himself to the Falcons fan newsletter. Maybe they signed him on but were keeping it a secret. He imagined him sharing all his precious information on Oliver, and the Falcons all rubbing their hands with glee at the acquisition of such a useful asset. Oliver was inadvertently thinking of Flint again, and upon realisation of that fact he became very embarrassed and decided to go out to eat something to distract himself.

While eating it suddenly hit him that his next game was with the Falcons, and he grinned. He was only aware of the grin when he caught sight of his reflection in a shop window, and immediately wiped it off his face. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he had been walking about town looking very stupid indeed, and the thought of that amused him so much he started to grin again. Then tried to suppress it, to no avail, and so he continued walking about, head bent downwards, grinning surreptitiously to himself.

At the Falcons game however he was not there, causing Oliver to sink into a bout of depression. Still, he fervently clung on to the hope that he might get on a League team soon, just because.

Meanwhile he received a letter from Percy Weasley, who congratulated him on his successes in the Quidditch field, and asked him if he cared to have a lunch with him sometime soon, to catch up with each other's lives.

This made Oliver feel very happy. It was someone he knew, someone he liked, and it was well, someone. Finally.

They agreed to meet each other next Saturday during lunchtime, at Boxwood Café. Contrary to popular belief, most wizarding folk consume their food at regular places, and occasionally discuss business matters openly. To the unsuspecting eavesdropper, they would just sound very official and nothing out of the ordinary.

Oliver arrived a little early, and was joined a few minutes later by Percy. They started to talk about their experiences in the adult world, and the pressure that came with it.

*

Percy now workedin the Department of International Magic Co-operation. Truthfully, life wasn't too easy. He was still in the bottom rungs of the political ladder, and whatever he said or did had little impact. He didn't earn much money either, and he often skipped meals and any unnecessary spending just so he could buy designer robes. Percy firmly believed that what a man wore reflected his personality, especially his shoes.

He spent many sleepless nights just to complete a given assignment, staying up to make sure he had every piece of information checked for accuracy. It was tiring, but Percy believed it was the way he could rise to the top. His main ambition was to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. He remembered lying in bed dreaming about that fact. He remembered dreaming about the proud looks on his parents' faces, and the impressed but slightly jealous looks on his siblings'.

"So anyway, whatever happened to Penelope?" Wood asked.

"Oh. Her. Um, you remember the seventh-year end-of-year party?" Percy began. The seventh-year end-of-year party sounded so far away now, the remnants of days long gone by.

Wood nodded. Then a look of realisation came over his face. "Ohhh," he said, as if everything suddenly made sense. "Um, I mean, sorry. So how's things between the two of you?"

"We kind of broke up, if you know what I mean. Actually nothing happened. I don't know. We just stopped keeping in touch. I mean, I really don't know." Percy found himself blabbering.

"It's okay," said Wood with a sympathetic smile.

"It all seems so faraway now, doesn't it?"

"True. I really miss school."

"Why would you? Aren't you living your dream now?"

Wood gave a look that said "not quite".

"Well, I find it really annoying, the endless interviews and crazed female fans and the way no one treats you like a real person," he continued.

Percy laughed incredulously. "No one ever gets what he asked for. Always happens."

At this point of time Wood had this wistful expression in his face, so Percy decided to stop and pay attention to his food.

At the end of it all, Wood offered to pay. Percy argued that since it was his idea he should pay. Wood said he's the one earning more than enough money now. Percy protested weakly. Wood paid the bill, and Percy promised to pay back the favour one of these days. Wood laughed and said he didn't have to, but then Percy protested vehemently. Wood then burst out laughing, saying that this was the most normal conversation he had in weeks. Percy responded that Wood must have been really deprived, and they laughed more.

They couldn't bear to leave each other, so they went for a walk in Hyde Park, recalling all the "good times" and laughing at the bleakness of their future. Then becoming sad over the same point, then laughing again at their pessimism. Wood also suggested doing some slightly crazy things, like buying an ice cream and jumping into the lake. Percy refused; he couldn't afford to ruin his clothes like that. Of course, Percy didn't mention that out loud, he just kept saying "Nonono" and pushing Wood aside.

Eventually they had to return to their real lives, and they went back to Diagon Alley. From there, Percy Floo-ed his way back to his office, and Wood went off to do a little shopping "to restock his food supply".

Back at the office, Percy was once again trapped in a tiny cubicle, tiny desk drowning in a sea of papers. No matter how hard he tried, his table just couldn't look organised. And so he worked, and so he lived.

And the year went by, and many things happened. There was the Triwizard competition at Hogwarts, which was the main reason why the "many things" happened. Throughout all those things Percy tried not to let his real emotions show, but on occasion, he could not help it, not especially when his brother was underwater for hours.

Things picked up for him too. He was named Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic. He earned more money now and he also got to attend more events. This made him feel very important indeed, and his swelling pride made him ignore his family.

They just didn't seem to understand, and Percy found them too easily contented. They just didn't see the importance of improving one's social standing, and were too easily contented with what they had.

He was now associating with important people, the ones that mattered in anything. He was even known amongst them, and Percy was starting to feel as if he belonged. He gradually lost touch with his family, as he immersed himself into the world of politics, where he felt everything came by easily for him.

Then the power of the Ministry began to slip away. The Death Eaters even managed to escape from Azkaban. Then the Dementors mutinied. The people started to think that the Ministry was incapable of handling matters properly. This meant that more people would start to disregard the Ministry. This meant that the people might start to want some change in the Ministry's governing.

Percy's life could be described as a sine curve, with it's regular ups and downs. Percy refused to believe that his life was governed by nothing more than fate and destiny. Fate and destiny, he thought, were silly little inventions come up by people who have nothing better to hold on to except their childish foolishness.

He desperately tried to hold on to what he currently owned in life, as the rest of it went slipping by. The Quibbler published an interview with Harry Potter about the return of the Dark Lord, and the Daily Prophet was losing its credibility. Dolores Umbridge was kicked out of Hogwarts in the most disgraceful manner. The Dementors of Azkaban revolted against the Ministry. Fudge had been deemed unsuitable for the role of Minister of Magic, and a new one was to be elected. Everything Percy dealt in fell apart.

In the elections for the new Minster, potential candidates included Arthur Weasley, Amelia Bones and Albus Dumbledore. This was when Percy realised his life was over. His pride was too big for him to swallow. If his father ever were elected the Minister of Magic, he would never be able to work in the Ministry again. He would have to apologise to his family for neglecting them. He would have to face Fred and George's "we knew better all along"s, he would have to go back to square one.

Thinking of Fred and George made him remember their successes in entrepreneurship earlier this year. They had left school to set up a shop of their own, a joke shop in 93 Diagon Alley. Percy knew the address. He would have congratulated them on their successes if not for his pride. Percy felt greatly accursed. All his life he wanted to be successful and all the success he ever came across belonged to someone else. His being a Prefect or Head Boy didn't count; Bill made it there first. Percy had absolutely no sporting talent, so he could never make it big in the Quidditch field. He didn't even have a girlfriend now, so he could not have the ideal family. He already renounced his ties with his family, so he couldn't go back to them. They would never accept him back in.

And he thought of Oliver Wood and Penelope Clearwater and all the people he studied with. They must be leading successful lives now. Wood he was sure of, Penelope, he heard, had become the marketing manager of Gladrags. And the others, he was sure they were successful in their own ways as well, with stable jobs and families to go back to.

He had lost everything, and he had gained nothing. And sure enough, when the elections came by, Arthur Weasley was named Minister for Magic. Percy knew that his 'Junior Assistant' position was now void, and he went back to working as a lowly clerk in the Department for International Magical Co-operation. Besides, he could not stand working directly under his father.

Back in his measly little cubicle, he was somewhat glad to find that it was still as disorganised as ever. It was, at least, the same as before.

What Percy didn't know was that his family still thought of him. Occasionally, Arthur would walk into the Department for International Magical Co-operation, stealing glances at his son just to see if he was all right. It concerned Arthur that Percy seemed to be losing weight. It wasn't as if Percy wasn't skinny enough already.

Meanwhile, Percy's life went back to it's original routine, and his salary back to what it was before. But now, he had lost all touch with any real person, and he lived in a tiny apartment tucked away in a corner of Islington.

His apartment was sparsely decorated. There was only one main room, with an unstable bed, a table that was starting to rot, a chair, an old and creaky closet and a few lamps, with books scattered all over the place. There was a kitchen corner that was unused, and the bathroom had mouldy corners.

From the clothes he wore and the way he behaved one would never guess that Percy was so destitute. He still made it a point to appear presentable, although this time it was so that no one would suspect that there was something wrong with him. He hated it most when people crowded over him, asking if he was all right, or if they kept looking at him as if he would suddenly break down or something.

So it was one of those days, where he was home from work, and he was sitting on his bed hidden under layers of extra bed sheets and old jumpers. He was reading through articles and reports on the declining quality control standards in the import and export of wizarding goods. Apparently more goods were becoming lost and unfound halfway through the journeys, and there were an increasing number of goods turning up incomplete or damaged.

He was currently pushing for the more careful treatment of goods during import and export, and he had to work up a careful proposal before the Ministry could even consider doing so. He was about to stop work for the day and go to sleep when an owl flew in, dropped a roll of parchment on his lap and flew out. Percy looked out of the window, in an unsuccessful attempt to trace where it came from, then decided he might be better off reading the letter. It was sealed with a dark green wax, and upon opening it Percy found written inside,

7:30 P.M.

10 August 1996

Molly Moggs
2 Old Compton Street, Soho, LONDON, W1

And as suddenly as it came it burst into green flames and disappeared. Percy looked around unsure of what to do next. He wasn't even sure if the letter had been real, from the way it disappeared just like that.

He looked at his calendar. The thirty-first of July. That meant that there was ten more days to go before he found out what it was about. He briefly wondered what could happen there, until fatigue got the better of him and he went back to sleep.

Percy woke up the next day, and he had forgotten about the letter he received the night before. He put on his clothes, packed up his things, and left for the office. Percy ate only about a meal a day now, as he had to save up as much money as he could to pay for the rent, and his clothing items. A normal person might think that Percy was mad, scrimping and saving like that just to afford the best robes, but they gave Percy an air of confidence, one that he would not have had otherwise.

And so a few more days passed by, when on the morning of February the tenth he suddenly remembered the letter. He wasn't too sure whether to trust the letter. He had absolutely no clue to what it was about, and for all he knew it might be part of some cruel joke some people decided to play on him. He didn't know why anyone would want to play a joke on him, but because that was what people have been doing to him ever since he was born it made some sense to him.

Then again, because he was free that night, he supposed he could try going to see what it was all about. Ever since his return to obscurity he had a lot of free time, having no need to attend special functions or dinners to socialise.

Because he had so little to do, he walked about the Muggle world, exploring it for a little. He was very unfamiliar with it, being raised in a magical family, visiting mainly magical places all his life. Any muggle place he went to was with his parents when he was young, and he was told to stick closely to them. Muggle places possessed some sort of novelty to him, and they would often stare in wonder at the things the muggles have come up with.

It was rather intriguing, really, these things called ekeltricity or whatever it was. Maybe because he was a Weasley, so he was interested in all these Muggle items and concepts. He entered Molly Moggs about an hour early, and sat in a corner doing nothing. He never was one to drink, and he wasn't too sure if one ordered drinks the same way one did in a wizarding pub. The name 'Molly' made him think of his mother, but he suppressed that train of thought before it could develop. After that, he went back to observing the Muggles in the area.