Title: Black Sheep
Chapter Title: Thunderstorms and Purple Robes (Or, In Which Percy Is A Child)
Authour: codenamelily
Rating: PG, so far
Length: 5100 words, this chapter - WIP
Characters: Percy-centric, other Weasleys in this chapter
Summary: The world was saying 'Hi, Percy. It's noisy and you're naked, slimy, and cold. It won't get much better than this for you. Percy never felt like he belonged in his family.
Warnings: None so far
Authour's Note: So, I've decided to be ambitious and attempt a multi-chaptered fic. This originally began as my entry for percyficathon at LJ but I wrote this entire first part and realised it would be much too long, as I had barely began the person's request and it didn't really seem to be going that way, anyway. So I wrote them something else and decided to take this one as a different project. I'll give some proper thanks to the person whose request began this story when the reveal happens. Thanks to kerrymdb and katyhasclogs for their feedback! Anyway, hope you enjoy the story! Feedback is always love! )
Percy was only six years old when he realised just how different he was from the rest of his family.
They were sitting around the table, too stuffed to move from a Christmas dinner, when their mother told them about the days each of her children were born.
"Bill and Ron were late," she said. "The rest of you were just on time, except you, Percy. You were three days early and were so eager to get out that I didn't even have time to pack for the hospital."
The twins giggled and Percy's ears turned red.
"The rest of you were born on beautiful, sunny days. Your Grandma Prewett said that the world was welcoming you in with open arms."
George sniggered and Fred whispered, "Bet Percy was born in a hurricane."
"Fred!" their mother snapped. "He was not!" Percy let out a sigh of relief. "It was just a thunderstorm."
The twins laughed again and Percy's ears turned even redder.
"Hush, you two!" she admonished. "Your Grandma Prewett said that the world was just expressing its awe at the wonderful things he would do."
"More like the world was saying 'Hi, Percy. It's noisy and you're naked, slimy, and cold. It won't get much better than this for you,'" George laughed.
Their mother sent them to sit in the corner and began to furiously clean the kitchen, but Percy couldn't agree more with George.
----
It was only a few days after the twins' birthday the following April when Percy heard a terrifying scream. He dropped his book and flew out of the sitting room and into the backyard, only to see a horrified Ron dropping a spider as big as his head as the twins watched. The spider scuttled toward the garden and disappeared, but Ron continued to scream and ran towards the house.
"Ron, what happened?" Percy asked.
Ron shook his head and ran past Percy, screaming for his mum. Percy ran up to the twins.
"What happened?" he asked. Fred looked furious and had tears in his eyes.
"He broke my Cleansweep," he muttered. "I told him not to touch it but he did and he broke it."
"He just got what he deserved," added George. "It isn't Fred's fault that the teddy changed. I saw him, he didn't touch it."
"You changed his teddy bear into a spider just because he broke your toy broom?" Percy said.
George pushed him. "He didn't do it on purpose. You're probably going to go tattle on us, aren't you?"
The three brothers looked up as Fred's name was shouted from the kitchen and their mother stormed out of the house, holding a shaking Ron.
"I think perhaps Ron got to it first," Percy replied.
By the time their mother had finished screaming, Fred had found the spider and been sentenced to a month without dessert and a whole week of being confined to his room, only being allowed out to use the loo or have a meal.
The rest of the afternoon was fairly quiet. Ron stayed close to their mum, grasping tightly to her apron at all times, until she finally picked him up and sat him on the sofa next to Percy.
"Percy, could you please watch Ron for just a bit?" Percy nodded and closed his book. Ron, on the other hand, screwed up his face and was on the verge of tears.
"It's okay," Percy told him. "I'm not going to be mean." Ron sniffled, but his face relaxed. "Do you want to play a game?"
Ron nodded, so Percy got off the sofa and went to the bookshelf, where a haphazard pile of board games sat. "What game do you want to play?" asked Percy. Ron hopped off the couch and ran to the bookshelf, pulling out a chessboard. "That one's a bit difficult, don't you think?"
"Wanna play this one," Ron mumbled.
Percy shrugged and began to set up the board, trying to explain to Ron which piece was which. But, as Percy had predicted, Ron was just too little to understand the game. He was more interested in trying to get his knight to chase his bishop than anything else.
"No, that's not how you do it!" Percy finally exclaimed. "Here, you go like this…"
"Stop!" Ron screeched. "Percy, stop it!"
"I'm just trying to show you how to play properly," Percy told him.
"It's no fun like this," Ron said, pouting. "I'm goin' to play with Charlie."
Ron stood up and toddled out of the sitting room and into the backyard, where Percy heard his laughter almost immediately. He sighed and cleared the board. All he wanted was for one of his brothers to like playing with him. Maybe his mum would have another baby soon and that one would want to play with him.
----
He knew his mother was frustrated with him, but he couldn't help it. Reading was hard and he just didn't get it. Bill and Charlie could both read and had learned much faster than he was. Percy was frustrated, too, but mainly because his mother made him sit in the kitchen for one hour while he struggled to read out loud as she did chores.
He was watching the clock. It had been one hour and four minutes and his mother still hadn't told him he could go play yet. He looked up at her and she stared back sternly.
"There's just one page left, Percy. I know you can finish the book. Please, just read me the last page."
He glanced back down at the book. "The tinny…"
"Tiny."
"…tiny rabbit saw…"
"Was, Percy. You're saying it backwards. The tiny rabbit was…"
"…the tiny rabbit was v-vur-vurry… Mum, I can't say that one."
"You know that one. It rhymes with 'berry'"
"Oh. Was very glood."
"Glad. It makes an 'ah' sound."
"Glad. Ah."
She sighed and took the book from him. "You'll get it one day," she said. "You have to."
"Am I bad, Mum?" Percy asked, sliding off the chair.
"No, Percy," she replied. "You're just having trouble. You'll get it, just… just not as easily. It's alright to have trouble with some things, don't worry."
He turned and left the kitchen, feeling less frustrated and more upset. He made to go up the stairs, but decided that he would rather go outside. He let himself quietly out the front door and sat on the step, cradling his head in his hands.
"Prissy Percy!" someone cried. Percy looked up to see the twins bounding towards him.
"Don't call me that," he mumbled.
"Aww, why not, Prissy?" asked Fred.
"Just don't," he replied. "I'm not prissy."
"You're just a great big bummer, aren't you?" George said.
"Are you all mad again because you can't read?" asked Fred. "It's okay, we can't read."
"You're too young to read," Percy said. "I'm just…"
"Dumb?" suggested Fred.
"Don't call me dumb!" Percy felt his ears turn red and an unreasonable surge of anger in his chest.
"Okay, fine, how about stupid?"
"Stuff it!"
George gasped. "I'm telling Mum," he cried.
"Fine! Go ahead! I'll tell her you called me stupid."
"It was just a joke," Fred defended. "Don't be such a prat."
"I'm not a prat!" Percy felt his face begin to grow hot, and he stood up off the step. Looking at the twins made him want to scream and beat his fists against something. He couldn't explain why he was so angry at them. The twins had called him names before, and he didn't like it, but he never had this strange sense of uncontrollable anger before.
"Fine, you're just a great big…"
Fred didn't finish his sentence, however, because the moment he started talking Percy felt like a giant gust of wind had suddenly burst out of him towards Fred. Fred flew backwards, his eyes wide open, and landed with a thud against the ground. Percy started to yell, though he had no idea what he was saying, and as he yelled clumps of dirt began to fly towards Fred and stuff themselves in his mouth.
George yelled and ran into the house. Percy could hear him call for their mother and it was only a few moments before they burst out of the house. By this point, Percy's shouting had turned into something else, and when he realised that Fred was coughing and spitting up, he backed up and tripped on the step.
"What's going on?" his mother cried. Fred sat up and spat the rest of the dirt out of his mouth, his eyes wide and shocked.
It seemed impossibly silent for a moment. Percy stared at the situation before him. The twins were staring at him accusingly, and his mother looked utterly confused.
"I'm n-not s-s-stupid," Percy choked fearfully. He stood up and ran back into the house, up the stairs and into his room. When he finally slammed the door, sat on his bed, and crawled into the corner against the wall, he began to shake uncontrollably. Tears poured down his cheeks and he sniffed loudly. He clenched his fists tightly and willed himself to stop shaking, but found he couldn't.
There was a soft knock at his door. Percy opened his mouth to tell whoever it was to come in, but instead he began to cough. The door opened and his mother walked in. He looked up at her. Before she could begin to yell, he shook his head.
"I d-didn't m-mean to," he sobbed. "I d-don't know w-what happened. P-please don't yell, M-mum."
Her face softened and she softly closed the door behind her. "Percy, love," she said, and sat on the edge of his bed. "Come here."
He moved forward tentatively, and his mother wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head until he stopped shaking. "Do you know what just happened, Percy?"
"I hurt Fred. I didn't mean to, r-really, I just got really m-mad and…" His breathing quickened and he started to shake again.
"Calm down, dear. It's okay. Fred is alright – he's already back playing with George. You didn't hurt him, alright?"
Percy nodded and sniffed loudly. His mother hugged him closer.
"Sometimes," she began in a calming voice, "when witches and wizards are just children, they accidentally use magic. Usually it happens when they are angry or scared or upset."
"I was really mad," Percy said. "I don't even know why, they've called me names before…"
"What happened?" she asked. "Why did they call you names?"
"Because I can't read good. And I was sad because I couldn't read and they kept calling me names and then I got so angry at them because they were calling me stupid and they were right." He started to cry again.
"Percy, listen to me." His mother brought a hand to his face and made him look up. She looked him straight in the eye and did not even blink. "You are not stupid. You are not dumb. You are a very smart little boy and you are going to be a great wizard one day. You're just having a little trouble reading and that's okay. Did you know Wanda the Wonderful couldn't read until she was eight years old? All you have to do is practice, practice, practice, and soon you'll be a great reader."
Percy smiled a little bit. "Really?"
His mother hugged him tightly. "Of course. Now, I know it was just an accident, and I told the twins that, but I think it would be a very nice gesture if you said you were sorry to Fred."
"But it was an accident!"
"I know, dear, but sometimes we have to apologise for things that weren't intentional, too. I'm sure Fred and George will want to say they're sorry for being mean to you."
And with one final hug from his mother, Percy was sent downstairs and into the front yard, where the twins were playing. They both glared at him as he approached.
"Go away," said George. "You're mean."
"I just wanted to say sorry," Percy said. "It was an accident."
"Mum says I'm supposed to apologise to you but I'm not going to," said Fred. "You're mean and awful and I don't like you at all."
"That's not really fair," said Percy. "I didn't mean to do it and I said I was sorry."
"We don't care," said George.
"Can I make it up to you?" Percy asked desperately.
"Maybe," Fred said. "I don't know. I'll have to see."
Percy, realising that was probably the best apology he'd get, turned and walked away slowly. He knew the twins would never let him get over this, and he felt so terrible about it that he didn't blame them. Sighing, he went back inside to practice his reading. He might as well get good at it.
----
The banner hanging across the kitchen read "Happy 7th Birthday, Percival!" Percy guessed that Grandma Prewett had bought it – no one else called him Percival. He didn't mind, though. Percy had read that Percival was the name of one of King Arthur's knights. He liked the idea of having the same name as a knight. Sir Percival. It sounded grand.
He smiled at the thought of someone calling him Sir Percival as he road up on a white horse, but quickly stopped smiling when he realised that the only person who would call him Sir Percival would probably be his Grandma Prewett, and that he didn't know how to ride a horse, and that if the twins saw him smiling to himself they would probably make fun of him.
"There's the birthday boy! Oh, would you look at him, Molly? How tall he's grown!"
"Yes, he's built just like Bill, isn't he, Muriel?"
"Of course. Tall and gangly. From Arthur's side, of course. Come here, Percy, dear, give Auntie Muriel a kiss!"
Percy hopped off his chair and let Auntie Muriel give him a kiss on the cheek.
"What a good boy you are!" Auntie Muriel said. "I tried to give the twins a kiss and they both just made faces and ran off."
"Oh, they're just going through a mean stage, Auntie, it's nothing personal. I thought they'd got that out of their system during the terrible two's, but apparently not. Those two could just drive me crazy. I spend more time punishing the two of them than the rest of the children put together!"
"They'll grow out of it, Molly dear, don't worry. They're good at heart."
He stood politely in the kitchen until Grandma Prewett tapped him on the shoulder. "Go play outside with the other children, dear," she said. Percy smiled up at her. "It's your birthday, you shouldn't be in here with all the stuffy grown-ups. Besides, it's now or never. It looks like rain in the sky."
He rushed to the back door and into the backyard, where his brothers were all silhouetted playing Quidditch with his cousins against the overcast sky. Percy didn't care for Quidditch, but he would play if it meant he got to play with the others.
Bill, Fred, and his cousins Will and Margaret were playing on one team, while Charlie, George, and his other cousins Terence and Violet were on the other. Ron was watching from the ground as they flew around on toy brooms – except Bill and Terence, who were old enough to have real brooms.
"Can I play?" Percy called up once he was close enough. George was the first to land.
"We need even teams," he said rudely. "Maybe if someone gets knocked by a Bludger."
"You're using fake balls," Percy pointed out. George rolled his eyes as Bill landed.
"Bill, tell him he can't play. We already have even teams."
"That's not very nice," Bill replied. "Besides, George, your team is losing. You could use some extra help."
George continued to pout as the rest of the players landed.
"What's happening, Bill?" asked Violet.
"Percy wants to play but it's going to mess up the teams," George blurted. Percy felt his shoulders slump.
"Aw, shut up," said Charlie. "Percy can play if he wants to."
"You're just letting him because Mum said you had to be nice to him on his birthday!" Fred shouted. "Otherwise you wouldn't let him play. You know he's not good!"
"How would you know?" said Percy. "You never let me play." He felt his heart beat quicken as he began to get angry.
"We don't let you play because you're not any good," Fred replied. "Me 'n George are better than you and we're younger!"
"Yeah," George laughed. "Even Ron's better than you and he's not playing!"
"Leave him alone!" shouted Margaret. "How can you be so mean?"
"It's not mean if it's the truth," said Fred.
"Who cares if it's the truth? It's his birthday!" said Margaret.
"If he's playing, I'm not," George declared.
"Me either," said Fred.
"Good," said Bill. "Because we were going to make you leave anyway."
Fred and George began to walk away after making faces at the rest of them. "Give Percy your broom, George!" called Bill.
George turned and threw the toy broom at Percy. He raised his hands to stop it but the broom flew right through them and the handle hit him in the eye. Involuntarily, Percy's eyes watered up and he fell to the ground.
"George, you stupid git, I'm telling Mum!" cried Charlie.
"Mum!" hollered George, running toward the house. "Charlie called me a stupid git!"
"Charlie!" called their mother from the house. "Get in here now and apologize!"
"But Mum, he hit Percy!" Charlie complained, dropping his broom and running after the twins.
"George!" screamed their mother.
"Percy, I think your eye is bleeding," said Margaret.
"Bleeding?" yelped Violet, stumbling backward. "I don't like blood." She bumped into Will and they both fell to the ground. Will let out a howl as Violet landed on his stomach.
Percy looked up out of one eye as the other one began to swell shut and saw his mother and all his aunts running out of the house. At the same time, Violet and Maragaret screamed at a sudden clap of thunder.
He sighed. Not only had he managed to ruin the Quidditch game, he was responsible for ruining his whole birthday party, too. He stood up and wiped the tears and blood from his cheek before walking slowly towards the house.
----
The next summer, Percy's mother noticed that he was squinting far too often. When she asked him about it, he admitted that he was having difficulties reading, as the words just seemed too small.
"I hope you don't need glasses," she sighed. "We're a little pressed at the moment, what with Charlie starting at Hogwarts this year." Percy was fairly sure that she had not meant to say that out loud, but at the same time, he hoped he didn't need them, either.
She took him to see a Healer a few days later, after finally being able to secure a babysitter for the twins, Ron, and Ginny. Percy had never gone anywhere with just his mother before, like he was the only child. Sometimes he wished he was an only child. Or at least that he fit in with his brothers. Even Ron seemed to be just like the rest of them, and he was only four.
Molly tapped her foot impatiently as they sat in the waiting room. "I hope this doesn't take long," she muttered. "I'd hate to see what the twins would do to poor Elizabeth if they're with her too long."
Percy immediately felt guilty for making his mother take so much time out of her day for him. He tried to concentrate on reading his book, but the squinting gave him a headache and he felt too guilty to really pay attention.
The Healer called them in a few minutes later and Percy carefully marked his page before trotting after his mother into the examining room. Inside, the Healer told Percy to sit in the chair and look directly at the E on the wall.
"Don't you have a spell to check for this?" asked Percy's mother.
"Of course," the Healer replied. "But we need to have him focus on something."
The Healer poked around at Percy's eyes and waved his wand a few times before jotting on his parchment. "Looks like your son will need glasses, Mrs. Weasley," he said. Percy stopped looking at the E on the wall and hung his head down.
His mother sighed. "I thought that might be it," she said.
"The problem is mostly in his right eye – it's much weaker than the left, making the left do most of the work. That's where the strain comes in. Did he wear an eye patch or scratch his lens at any point? Maybe get hit in the eye?" the Healer asked.
"Not that I know of," his mother answered. Percy opened his mouth to remind her that George had hit him with a broomstick the year before, but decided against it. His mum would probably feel bad for forgetting, and he didn't want to make her feel bad. Not after finding out he needed glasses.
"Well, it could be a natural thing, I suppose," said the Healer. "Whatever the case, we have a fine selection of children's frames for you here." He waved his wand at a cupboard. Three levels of trays and a handheld mirror popped out and settled on the counter. "Come over here, Percy, and let's try a pair on you."
Percy hopped off the chair and looked at the frames on the counter. The Healer picked up a pair off the top tray and handed them to Percy, who tried them on.
"Try these," he said. "They're Unbreakable, and charmed to grow with his face – he'll never have to push them up! He'll need a new pair in a few years – the charms don't last particularly long – but they can change colour and…"
Molly interrupted by stepping forward. "Do you have anything a bit… well, a little less pricy?"
Percy instantly replaced the glasses on the tray, though with admitted difficulty. The Healer nodded with arrogant pity.
"We have these ones," he said, offering a pair of horn-rimmed glasses to Percy. Percy stared down at them, imagining what the twins would say when they saw him. "They're less stylish, of course, a little less kid friendly, but they're our cheapest frame."
"They're perfect," Percy whispered, blinking rapidly as he tried them on and hated his reflection. "I'll just be really, really careful with them." He traced the edge of the lens, wondering if his face would ever grow into them. They were already slipping down his nose.
He felt his mother place a timid hand on his shoulder, but he knew he would start to cry if he looked at her, and boys didn't cry. He stared at the much-clearer ground as she paid for his frames at the front desk and counted cracks in the tiles as he walked out the front door. If I don't look at her, he thought, she won't know I don't like them.
Outside, his mother kneeled down in front of him. Percy averted his gaze to the brick wall of the building beside them. "I'm sorry we couldn't get those first frames," she said quietly. "But I bet I can charm these to grow and not break, and maybe even change colour."
Percy shrugged. "It's okay," he said, even though he knew his mother knew it wasn't. "They're better than having to squint all the time."
He wasn't sure, but he thought she looked a bit teary as she gave him a hug and stood up. "Come on, let's go home. When we get there, I'll make you toasted cheese and soup for lunch, how does that sound?"
Percy smiled up at her. At least he would be able to eat his favorite food while the twins made fun of him.
-----
"Oh, come on, Percy, it's just a joke!"
"Well it's not funny! They're new and you wrecked them! I'm going to Hogwarts tomorrow and you've completely ruined my new robes!"
"They're not wrecked, you dolt…"
"Don't call me a dolt!"
"Then stop being such a dolt.
"They're not new, either. They're Bill's old first year robes."
"They're new to me. And I need something for tomorrow."
"Just go naked."
"Yeah, paint yourself black and no one'll know the difference."
"Draw a little tie on yourself. Make it a Slytherin one."
Percy let out a frustrated growl and threw his multi-coloured, speckled robes at the twins before storming out of their room and down into the kitchen. He flopped at the table and buried his head in his hands.
His mum had specifically told him to take good care of his robes. They still had to last through one of the twins, and if they lasted through them, then Ron. And now the twins had ruined them.
There had to be a way to change them back. There had to. And before his mum found out. He tapped his fingers on the table and thought. He couldn't do magic yet, so a charm wasn't an option. Maybe there was a potion? He shook his head. Even if there was, he probably wouldn't be able to brew it.
He tapped his fingers harder. How did Muggles make their clothes different colours? There had to be some way that wasn't magical. And if anyone would know, Percy thought, his father would.
Percy stopped tapping his fingers. His mum wouldn't be done taking care of the chickens for another fifteen minutes – twenty if Ginny kept hollering like she did. That would be just enough time. He ran to the fireplace and grabbed some Floo powder. Clearing his throat, he threw the powder and shouted, "The Ministry of Magic!" and stepped into the fire.
He had only been to visit his father a handful of times, but he knew his way to his office. Percy hurried, keeping his eyes low as to not attract anyone's attention. When he finally reached the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, he took a deep breath and knocked.
An older man opened the door. Before Percy could open his mouth, the man turned away. "Weasley," he called. "It's one of yours."
"One of my what?" Percy heard shouted from the background. There were footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal Percy's father standing there.
"Percy!" exclaimed his father. "What a surprise. Does your mother know you're here?"
"Er… yes," said Percy.
"Well, what's brought you?"
"I had a question," Percy said. "About a Muggle thing."
"Well, come in and sit down, son. What's your question?"
"I was wondering what Muggles use to make their clothes different colors."
"You mean like dyes."
"I… I think so."
"Well," Arthur said, pacing behind his desk. "Dyes are kind of like a potion. They make the clothes different colours by staining it. Kind of like how Ron wrecks his shirts by spilling juice on them."
Percy nodded understandingly. "So if you had something, say, lots of different colours and you wanted to make it one colour, you would just dip it in some dye?"
"Exactly," said his father. "Hold on, I think we might have some in the back from those raids we did last year. I'll give you some old rags and you can play with it at home."
Percy shifted in his seat excitedly as his father rummaged in an unseen closet. "Ah-ha!" he finally cried. "Here we are."
His father returned and handed him two large, clear containers of a dark liquid and a box full of material scraps. "Thanks, Dad!" said Percy, eagerly taking the dye and rags.
"Not a problem," replied his father, laughing. "Have fun. But don't make a mess or your mother will have my head."
"I won't," Percy promised, standing up. "See you later, Dad!"
He rushed away from the office and back to the main level. He hurried toward the fireplaces and was nearly ready to jump in one when he realised he had no Floo powder left. Glancing around frantically, he caught the eye of a wizard sitting at the wand-check desk.
"No powder?" the wizard asked. Percy nodded. "I got some extra, jus' remember for nex' time, yeh hear?"
"Yes, sir," Percy said, grabbing some powder out of the pot offered to him. "Thank you."
He threw the powder in the fireplace and shouted, "The Burrow!" as clear as he could.
As he stumbled out of the fireplace, he distinctly heard his name being shouted in the backyard. He grabbed his dye and rags and ran up the stairs to his room, hid them under his bed, and ran back down the stairs.
"Yes, Mum?" he said, rushing into the backyard. His mother whirled around.
"Where were you?" she demanded.
"In my room," he answered.
"I checked your room. I checked the sitting room. I checked everywhere. You were not in your room."
"Yes I was," Percy insisted. "I've been in there for awhile."
His mother stared at him, her eyes narrowed. "I never expected this kind of trouble from you, Percy. Now I don't know where you were, but I will find out. Go finish packing your school things."
Percy's ears flushed brilliantly red, spreading quickly to his cheeks, as he turned and walked slowly back into his house. He had never gotten in trouble with his mum before – that was more of a twins' thing. But it was worth it, he decided, to get in just a little bit of trouble instead of her finding out about his robes.
He hurried back up into his room and pulled the dyes out from under his bed. His speckled robes were crumpled in a ball on his bed. He picked them up and eyed them, then looked at the dye. There was no way there was enough room in the container for them to be dipped. He sunk onto his bed, thinking hard. A cauldron would be perfect, but the second-hand one he had gotten for school was downstairs, waiting to be washed with Bill's and Charlie's. He needed something big, and something that wasn't around his mother.
The thought struck him suddenly and he sat straight up. The tub! He could use the bathtub, if he plugged it and dumped the dye in. Percy grabbed the containers and ran to the loo, locking the door behind him. He threw his robes in the tub and opened the containers.
He gagged. The dye smelled absolutely terrible. How did Muggles put up with this? The fumes were making his eyes water, so he quickly dumped the container into the tub. It splashed up on the wall and Percy cursed inwardly, grabbing a cloth and wiping the wall. He threw the cloth to the side and began to push the robes around in the dye, covering them completely.
He finished quickly and then began to puzzle his next problem: drying the robes. Percy thought hard about where he could put them. It was probably best if he dried them in the sun, he decided, so they would dry fast. He was tempted to rub the robes on the twins' bed sheets before he let them dry, but decided against it. He couldn't risk rubbing the dye on something and having a different coloured spot.
He finally decided to let them dry on the roof. The ghoul was frightening, and Percy tried to keep away from it as often as possible, but this was an emergency. Keeping the broom away from his body, he climbed the stairs to the attic and pushed the door open with his elbow.
The ghoul let out a howl. "Oh, shut up," Percy said, hopefully sounding braver than he felt. "I just need to get on the roof."
He walked across the attic, baring the robes like a sword, and pushed up the panel that led to the roof. He flopped the robes up and pulled the broom back down before running out of the attic and back down to the loo. There, he locked the door again and surveyed the mess.
The floor of the tub was black, and the sides were streaked as well. There were drops of dye all over the floor and even some on the walls, as hard as he'd tried to keep it off. Percy sighed, grabbed the box of rags, and set to work scrubbing.
It took him until nearly supper time to finish cleaning the mess, but it was as good as sparkling when he finished. He washed his hands and face and bounded down the stairs, feeling rather accomplished. Not only had he fixed his robes, he had done it without even having his parents find out about it!
He stopped in his tracks when he got to the kitchen. Both his parents were sitting at the kitchen table. His father's ears were red and his mother had an expression of complete fury on her face.
"What," she began slowly, "were your school robes doing on the roof?"
Percy's eyes widened. How had she found them?
"And what," started his father, "were you thinking, lying to me and your mother?"
"I…" started Percy, but his mother slammed her hand down on the table.
"And what I'd like to know most," she said, her voice shaking, "is why you dyed your robes purple?"
"Purple?" Percy's jaw dropped. "I thought it was black!"
"What, in the name of Merlin, possessed you to do it?" his mother shouted.
Percy didn't answer, just hung his head.
"Well?" she demanded. "What was going through your head?"
"The twins changed them," he mumbled. "I didn't want you to find out because I thought you'd be mad that I didn't take care of them."
"Well, I'm not mad," his mother said. "I am absolutely furious! How could you ruin your robes like this? You know we can't afford to buy new robes for you lot every year! These were supposed to last through until Ron! If you had just told me what the twins had done I could have fixed it but instead you went and dyed them purple! I don't even know if I can fix this. And there's purple dye all over the carpet trailing up to the attic. I can't believe this. I never expected this from you, Percy."
"I'm very disappointed in you, son." Percy looked up and into his father's eyes and immediately looked back down. The look his father was giving him was the worst thing Percy had ever seen. He felt ill just thinking about it, and he could feel himself about to burst into tears.
"I'm sorry," Percy whispered, trying not to cry. And he was. He had expected to be yelled at, to be screamed at, to be sent to his room and have no dessert for a month. But his father wasn't yelling, and Percy felt so terrible that he wished he had yelled instead.
"Go to your room," seethed his mother. "Just go. If I can't fix these, you'll have to wear Charlie's new robes, and those are two inches too short. It's more than you deserve."
Percy turned and climbed up to his room. He shut the door quietly and sat down on his bed. He made a mental promise to himself never, ever to let his father down again, so he would never have to see that look again.