Percy was not amused, to say the least. He had liked that quill, and though one could probably argue he could still use it while it occasionally flashed pink or orange, he found this to be rather distracting. He’d tried every counterspell he had been able to think of, and, to be quite honest, there were a lot of those. He was a model student and a Head Boy, after all, even though Fred and George seemed to lack any kind of respect for his position. The twins hadn’t actually said they were the ones that had hexed his quill, but really, who else could have thought of such a childish and immature prank?
Obviously, Percy owned more than one quill, but that wasn’t the issue. It was about his brothers’ basic lack of respect for an authority figure, which was much more important. They couldn’t go through life hexing the quills of every smart person they didn’t like, and Percy felt it was his duty to tell them so. This was why he was using his precious study time to walk down to the Quidditch pitch, where the team was supposed to be practicing. When he found it empty, he walked straight on to the Gryffindor locker room.
“Don’t think I-” He stopped while the door fell shut behind him, the bang sounding loud in the empty room. It seemed like he had come too late, but there was still a pair of clothes on one of the benches in the corner. “Hello?” he called out, determined to ask whoever was left where the twins had went.
He received no answer, but he could hear a shower being turned on. He stepped into the adjoining room, where the shower cabins were. The sound was coming from the very last stall.
“Hello?” he repeated.
The water was turned off. “Who’s that?” a familiar voice sounded.
“Percy Weasley.”
Oliver laughed. “I don’t think I know any other Percy’s, Perce. What are you doing here? Spying on the team getting dressed?”
“No, of course not. I’m looking for Fred and George.”
“Haven’t seen them since they hopped off their brooms. They seemed to be in a hurry to get away.”
“So they haven’t been in here? And you didn’t see where they went, by any chance?”
“Nope, sorry. It’s just me here.” The door of the shower stall opened and a dripping wet Oliver Wood appeared, clad in only a towel hanging from his waist. “Disappointed?”