Harry Potter and the Lost Half-Bloods. *1*

Jason

I couldn't get angry. She had a lot on her mind, I suppose.

"Ugh," Percy buried his head in his hands.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, hoping to take the attention away from the letter in my hand. I stuffed it into my robes' pocket hoping he'd forget about it. He was probably itching to ask questions about it, he was always itching to ask questions about my life.

"I have try-outs, and a detention today! Even worse, they're scheduled at the same time. It's awful."

"Wow, your life is simply unbearable," I mumbled. I don't think Percy caught the sarcasm. He continued complaining.

"I know, right? Even worse, my mum hasn't written to me all week!"

"So, what? She's fine. She's probably busy, you know."

He shot me a glare.

"I know she's busy, it's not that I'm worried about. If you haven't noticed, there are not-so-decent people in the world--" I was tempted to add, 'and you're one of them,' but Percy said something that actually caused me to pay attention. "--my step-father is one of those not-so-decent people."

"Is he?"

Percy swallowed back his words, looking away like he hadn't said anything at all.

"You're right, she's probably fine. I need to get to the Quidditch field. I really how McGonagall will find it in her heart to let me try out, I might as well prepare just in case she does."

I then did something that was equally surprising and possibly regrettable. I stood up and followed Percy out to the field.

"I'll go with you. To help you practice, I mean. I wouldn't want to miss a chance to witness you fall off your broom."

Lupin had advised me to stop the isolation. I'd been isolating myself all week; It was unbelievably boring. I figured I might as well try the whole being social thing.

Percy seemed bothered, I noticed immediately. I sat in the stands pretending to read, but in reality, I was really paying attention to Percy on his broom. I'd always known he was quite talented on the field, and his talent wasn't lacking today. There was no doubt that if he would be allowed to attend tryouts, he would make the team. Still, he seemed distracted, like his heart and mind weren't at all into what he was doing. Despite the fact that he was flying, his head was quite literally in the clouds.

"Jackson," I shouted. He immediately hovered in place. He flew over to where I was in the stands.

"What's up?" He asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing; you're off your game. What's up?"

He sighed and hopped off of his broom, standing beside me in the stands now.
As if he'd been waiting for me to ask this question, he lifted his sleeve and showed me the tattoo, the same one we had noticed last week.

"Mine hasn't gone away. Has yours?" He asked.

I sighed. I hadn't thought about the stupid marking all week, I'd had more alarming things on my mind. Truthfully, I'd forgotten completely about the tattoo. I did the same and lifted my sleeve.

"It's still there," I answered.

"I've tried every spell, it won't go away. I've been forced to cover it all week, but it's still there at the end of the day. Any clue as to what it means? I don't think it's a prank. I think it's---something more."

"Jackson, I've depicted you as a lot of things," I admitted. "I've never thought you to be someone who overthinks things. I've always thought you were more of a 'whatever' kind of guy."