For Tanager
The other story was written very hastily, and this is the better version, thanks for the encouragement, Tan!
I'm so tired. Sick and tired, that's what.
I know I seem to be complaining about that more and more, but it seems that my life has turned into a routine. I can't help it, it's familiar and I sometimes sit back and watch my hands or my mouth, even my brain working while I'm off in a corner of my soul screaming.
I scream a lot. I usually soundproof my room before hand. I wouldn't want to frighten mum or Ginny.
Fred and George would come barreling in wanting to know what "Poor Perfect Prefect Percy" is doing screaming his head off in the middle of the night like a loony.
I can just see it now: The door is burst form it's hinges and they invade my room, swarming over to me wondering what's wrong. They'd give words of comfort and then leave after making extra-sure I'm all right.
But they wouldn't understand. Not really. Mum might. But I'm not so sure.
I don't believe she could understand that I hate being a Prefect. I'm sure the rest of the lot would too. But it's true. I only did it to get attention. Being the middle child, and now the eldest child at home isn't easy.
I used to be the baby of the family. I remember that. Bill and Charlie used to play with me then. But when Fred and George was born it was always "Aren't they so cute?" or "Look! They just moved in synchronization!" or "they're so adorable Mrs. Weasley! Aren't they so precious! And you've even dressed them alike! Which one's which?"
All the while I stood beside the pram watching them fawn over two fat, ugly babies that didn't do much besides dirty their nappies and spit. Though I must say when George's first word was 'Percy' I felt so proud! I softened to them after that. Then Bill went off in search of Dragons and Ron was born a while after that.
Then Charlie left and Bill came back to see his new brother then stayed on when mum got pregnant with Ginny. I fervently hoped that she would be the last child ever. I was jealous. I was the baby, and that position had been usurped by four children!
Though, I can't be too hard on Fred and George. The money they get from selling their "Weasley Wizarding Wheezes" (Pretty catchy phrase) they do put most of it into the bank. I think. They probably do. If mum taught us children anything it is that family is first, personal gain second, everything else, you decide.
Ron was doing badly in preschool and I had just entered Hogwarts. I helped out a lot after Bill left again.
I was glad to go to school over the next few years.
But honestly, I've gone off a tangent. As usual. "Percy the one who's so logical and smart" going off on a tangent? Hah. If only they knew!
I can't blame them too much. They try. So now that I'm home, I go to work. Which is fine. I don't have to hear the taunts or the name-calling or the looks. I can earn money for the family. I'm setting aside a little bit every paycheck. So when I have enough, I'm gone. Just like Bill and Charlie. Though I'm not coming back. I'm sick and tired of this family. Nobody understands.
When I came home from Oliver's two days ago I went to my room and Fred and George had set up small fireworks that exploded when I stood on them. I also got a bucket of sticky goo over my head and all over my bags when I opened the door. The worst part is that when I went to bed, they had tucked the sheet halfway down and had paid a garden gnome (with what I have no idea probably not to be included in a de-gnoming, though they all look alike so they won't be able to tell.) to be waiting to yell at me when I flipped the covers back. It scampered down the stairs before I could catch it.
I gave them an earful the next morning. Mum then grounded them. So they're content in their room. Probably concocting more plans for me.
Bill hasn't written neither has Chaz. I write them both three weeks ago. I called Charlie Chaz when I was really little. He used to be so proud about it.
Nobody has a pet name for me except "Perfect".
Well, it's getting towards three in the morning. A whole night without screaming. The first in a week.
Being Percy Weasley isn't very fun and sometimes. I have to get up to go to work in two hours. Good night.
Perceval W.
I came up with this idea all thanks to James, my brother. He was one of the first children to get the last HP book (GoF?) when it first came out - in England, no less! So, it's in British English, which is different than American English. (Like football for soccer and all that fun stuff!) So I was wondering what they called prefects in the Americanized ones, but I don't think they call them something different. So this idea popped into my head. Hope you enjoyed! (Please review, it would make my day.)