Percy returned to bed after seeing the figure, but he did not sleep. He kept thinking of the distance between the trees and his window.
It had seemed small when someone was looking back.
At breakfast, he pushed a piece of egg across his plate until Hermione noticed.
"Are you going to eat that?"
"Yes."
He ate it. That did not answer the question she actually wanted to ask.
Ron was complaining about the first week. Harry joined him until Percy looked toward the staff table.
Snape and Quirrell were speaking quietly. Quirrell wiped his forehead with a cloth.
Snape looked up.
Percy turned back to his plate. He disliked how easily that movement made him look guilty.
Defence was their first lesson. Quirrell had brought a wardrobe into the classroom.
Percy stopped beside his chair. Something struck the inside of the door.
Ron stared at it.
"Please tell me that is equipment."
Quirrell asked the class what they knew about Boggarts. Hermione answered before anyone else had decided how badly they wanted to avoid the wardrobe.
"They take the form of what frightens you most. Riddikulus changes the form into something you can laugh at."
"Very good," Quirrell said.
He explained the exercise. They would approach in turn, with their wands ready.
Percy watched the door. He knew what his greatest fear ought to be.
That was not something he wanted a classroom to see.
Neville went first. The Boggart became Snape, and Neville took a step back before remembering the instructions.
His spell worked. The false Snape appeared in a pink dress, and the laughter from the class helped Neville finish.
Several students followed. Each transformation made the next person less certain about approaching.
When Quirrell called Percy, he walked forward slowly.
The wardrobe opened.
A hooded figure stepped out.
Percy knew it at once. He had seen the same outline near the forest, but this one stood close enough to touch him.
Its eyes were bright beneath the hood.
The room seemed quieter. Percy could still hear a chair moving behind him, but he had to make himself attend to the sound.
It was a classroom. Harry and Ron were there. The figure was a Boggart.
He tightened his grip on the wand.
A torch flickered. The air moved around his sleeve, and the Boggart stepped back before he had spoken.
Percy felt his own power rise. It was stronger than the spell needed, and it was responding to the fear before he could decide how to use it.
He fixed his eyes on the hood.
"Riddikulus."
The figure shrank. Its robe became a pink tutu, and the hood slid over its face.
It tried to walk, tripped on the cloth, and landed on its back.
Ron laughed first. The others followed.
Percy lowered his wand. His arm was shaking.
Quirrell praised him, but the professor had moved farther from the wardrobe. He looked more concerned about Percy than about what had come out of it.
Percy returned to his seat. Harry watched him sit down.
"All right?"
"Yes."
Harry glanced at the hand still gripping the wand.
Percy relaxed his fingers.
"I will be."
Hermione caught him after class. She waited until the other students had gone ahead before asking about the torch.
"Did you do that?"
"I did not intend to."
"The Boggart reacted before you cast."
Percy looked back at the door. Quirrell was still inside, putting a lock on the wardrobe.
"Perhaps it disliked me."
"That does not explain it."
"No."
Hermione waited for more. Percy wished he could give her an ordinary explanation without making it a lie.
"My magic does not always feel the same when I use a wand."
"How does it feel?"
He considered the question.
"With the wand, I have to think about the movement. Sometimes the other part acts before I do."
Hermione looked interested, then concerned.
"Practice might help. But you should tell someone if it starts happening without your control."
Percy nodded. It was advice he would have given another person.
Accepting it himself required more effort.
That night, he lay awake until the common room below was quiet. He thought of the Boggart's face and the figure outside.
The Boggart had chosen a fear that was new to him. He did not know why that troubled him more than seeing an old one would have.
He went downstairs with his wand.
Someone had left parchment on the floor near the window.
Percy picked it up. The ink was dark and still clear against the page.
Three words were written there.
"Stay away, Jackson."
He looked toward the portrait hole. It was closed.
He checked the chairs, the stairs, and the space beside the window. Nobody was there.
A quiet sound reached him from the fire. For a moment, it resembled a whisper.
Percy stayed still until he could hear only the wood burning.
Then he read the note again.
It used his name. Whoever had left it had known where to find him.
He folded the parchment without touching the ink and put it inside his pocket.
He would not leave it where someone else could throw it away in the morning.
The common room remained empty. That did not make the warning less personal.
To Be Continued... Next week!
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