Nowhere Man
Disclaimer:
J.K. Rowling owns Percy, Molly Weasley, Ron, and whoever else I mention. The Beatles (YAY) own the song "Nowhere Man" and I lay no claim.Rating
: GAuthor
: Katrine Potter-LupinHe's a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
"You really don't know where you're going with this, do you?"
Percy turned around and saw his superior, Mr. Crouch, standing in the doorway to his small office.
"Why, Mr. Crouch, I wouldn't know what you mean—."
"Cut the brown-nosing, Weatherby. I'm not in the mood. Now, I want my plans for standardized cauldron thickness by tomorrow. Is that clear?"
Knowing it was pointless to argue with Crouch, Percy muttered, "Yes, sir" and turned back to his old second-hand desk to find his quill.
Crouch raised an eyebrow. "Also, Weatherby, I want that report to be first-class. No grammatical errors. Perfection is what I want and need. Do you understand, Weatherby?"
"Of course, sir. It needs to be first class. That was what I was already striding for – perfection."
"Ah, I see. Good. Tomorrow, Weatherby."
The door slammed shut, and Percy was again alone. Mr. Crouch was right, he thought to himself. I have no idea where I'm going with this. I never have any ideas of where I'm going, or what I'm doing, for that matter. This is not as easy as Hogwarts.
"But again," he grumbled aloud, "Just how much can you write about standardizing cauldron thickness? Certainly not 15 pages, as Mr. Crouch expects. Why, That will take rolls of parchment to write!"
He was going nowhere. He was getting nowhere. He felt as if the world was waiting for him, and yet, at the same time, his own falling apart at the same time. But, didn't that happen to everyone at some time or another?
Doesn't have a point of view
Knows not where he's going to
Isn't he a bit like you and me?
Percy sat at his desk, and set his quill upon the parchment, waiting for the words to come. He waited for minutes on end. Nothing came.
He was 7 pages into the report, and everything had been said. Yet he had 8 pages to go. That was more than half the report.
Mr. Crouch would never let it stand as it was –- he was a stickler for regulations and rules. Normally, Percy was also a regulator – he had been a prefect after all. But now, he was put into the victim role of a greater authority, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.
Perhaps, though, he should deal with it. Maybe, just maybe, he was just getting frustrated. Perhaps he should just listen to instructions. The world – well, at least the ministry – was waiting for him.
Nowhere Man, please listen
You don't know what you're missing
Nowhere Man, the world is at your command
It was three o' clock, and Percy was ready to go home. In the three hours that had passed, he had written 2 more pages; mainly fluff. However, fluff could be a good thing.
"Hello, Mum." He said, kissing Molly Weasley on the cheek.
"Hello, Percy dear. Please, have a roll before you work on your report." She said, pleading mentally with her son to eat. He could be so stubborn.
"Ah, no, Mum. I'm fine, really. I'll have dinner later." Percy replied, and headed up the creaky set of stairs that led to his room – his own actual room.
Molly watched her son walk up the stairs sadly. He could be so blind. Didn't he see what he was doing to himself? He was overworking himself. The boy was nineteen years old, not thirty-nine. He shouldn't be writing huge Ministry reports on his first job, even if it was on something like cauldron thickness.
"Oh, Percy." She said softly.
He's as blind as he can be
Just sees what he wants to see
Nowhere Man can you see me at all?
It was five after five – he had missed teatime by more than an hour. He didn't care. He was a working man – he didn't have time for tea.
He was still nowhere, still wandering aimlessly amid the fluff of his report. It was going slowly; he was on page 11. I think I've stated the fact that our field has been ignored about ten times. Percy thought to himself. He didn't think this was frustration anymore – he didn't like to be controlled by authority.
Percy wished he were back at Hogwarts. Life was easier then. He didn't have to worry about meeting deadlines and losing his only hope for a job back then. If he missed a report, he would just flunk – not lose his life.
He wished he at least had some help. Someone to tell him he was doing okay.
Nowhere Man, don't worry
Take your time, don't hurry
Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand
Doesn't have a point of view
Knows not where he's going to
Isn't he a bit like you and me?
Nine o'clock – still 11 pages. Percy had given up on ever reaching 15 pages. He had just concluded the paper, and let it be. It was a very good report – to hell with Crouch if he didn't like it.
Nowhere Man, please listen
You don't know what you're missing
Nowhere Man, the world is at your command
Percy made his way to Crouch's office, still feeling as if his life was going nowhere. A report on cauldron thickness? Ron had been right on this one – it was going to make the front page of the Daily Prophet Ha.
He knocked; and he heard Mr. Crouch grumble, "Yes?" He made his way to his desk, dropped the report and said, "Here's your report. I worked on it endlessly, I hope it is enjoyable. If it isn't, well, then…well, too bad." He said defiantly, half-hoping for a reply. All he got was a "Yes, Weatherby, go get my coffee."
Percy sighed, frustrated. No one even took his outbursts seriously!
He walked out of Crouch's office, walked down the walkway, and thought suddenly of an old song:
"I am a Nowhere Man."
He's a real Nowhere Man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
THE END
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