Disclaimer: Percy & co. belong not to me but to J.K. Rowling.
Unworthy
The face in the mirror stares back at me. Accusing me. Thick horn- rimmed glasses. Carrot-red hair. Weasley hair. Sighing, I turn away and begin to dress. What with the rumor mill grinding out tales of You-Know- Who's return by the ton, the Ministry of Magic needs all the help we loyal supporters can supply to combat Dumbledore's lies. You-Know-Who returning indeed, when everyone sane knows that he's been dead for fourteen years! Only fools would believe such a preposterous story!
Which is why I had to leave home. How could I remain in a household suffocated by those determined to undermine the fragile stability that took years for the Ministry to piece together? Dumbledore - oh yes -no one can deny that he was one of the most powerful wizards in modern times - but the graph of his age versus his mental capabilities is an inverse function. High time he stepped aside for someone younger - I can't even count the number of years the senile old wizard has reigned supreme at Hogwarts!
Hogwarts . . . .
I still remember Hogwarts.
Gods, I miss the place - life was so much simpler back then. There were no complications that a young schoolboy wizard could not handle. I was Percy Weasley - perfect student who never got in trouble, never even got a single detention, unlike Fred and George and, now it seems, Ron. Prefect, too, and a conscientious one at that. Unlike so many of my fellow prefects with lower moral standards, I never favored Gryffindor over even Slytherin, impartially docking points from all Houses alike. As Head Boy, I maintained this incorruptibility, swearing that I would prove wrong the Muggle who had declared that power corrupts, vowing that I would be worthy of employment at the Ministry.
And I have. I alone of all my family have proven faithful to our government, faithful to the very end. I alone have had the vision and dedication to skyrocket like a Firebolt from near-disgrace over the Crouch affair to unprecedented success as youngest Junior Assistant to the Minister ever.
How proud I was when Fudge promoted me to work in his very own office! Yet another new triumph to share with Mum and Dad and the rest - not the twins, of course; they never knew when to appreciate successfulness - yet further proof that I of all the children have the brightest future. Oh, Bill and Charlie hold respectable jobs, but Bill's never stopped wearing that ridiculous ponytail and earring (as though he were still an immature teenager!) and goodness knows what Charlie gets up to in middle-of- nowhere Romania. And the twins . . . I've never seen worse. Not a vestige of respect for authority and time-honored traditions. Not a single serious atom in their bodies. As far as I'm concerned, they jettisoned their chances before they even learned the word "prank." Sure, Hogwarts has seldom seen more popular students, but what good is peer acclaim? All that matters is making a favorable impression on superiors. What is popularity?
Still . . . still . . . what I wouldn't have given - what I wouldn't have paid - to have had such friends! Friends to joke with (even though I'm not good at thinking up jokes), to tease and to tease me back, to laugh with in the good times and to sympathize in the bad. What I wouldn't have given for a best friend like Lee Jordan or even Hermione Granger and Harry Potter!
But as it was, I could only watch as friendships drifted by in front of my eyes - elusive wisps of smoke that faded even as I stretched out my hands. As prissy perfect student, then prissy perfect prefect, and finally prissy perfect Head Boy, I could only look on as Fred and George breezed in and out of trouble, miraculously retaining the affection and amusement of not only students but even professors despite their outrageous pranks.
Hunched over a textbook in the Gryffindor common room, I'd raise my head only to see the two of them exuberantly planning their next mischievous episode with Jordan, or Ron deep in discussion with Granger and Potter. And then I'd look back down my homework and redouble my efforts, reminding myself that neither professors nor Penelope would be impressed if my grades slipped.
It angers me even now - how hard I've worked to prove myself all my life! How much effort I've had to cram into every single minute to get where I am! And without even bothering to try, with effortless ease, my parents and my brothers and sister glide through happy lives with plenty of friends who care. Do they deserve that any more than I do, who have never allowed myself to stop working? I hated them all so much the night I finally broke with them over You-Know-Who and Dumbledore! I'd just been promoted and no one cared and Dad even accused me of being a spy against him - as if his own reputation as Muggle fanatic hadn't hindered my ambitions since I graduated from Hogwarts! He and the rest weren't worthy of a son like me, I shouted in his face right before I slammed the door behind me on my path to power.
And I still think that's true. It's only in moments of discouragement that I wonder if all along it was I who was never worthy of them.
Unworthy
The face in the mirror stares back at me. Accusing me. Thick horn- rimmed glasses. Carrot-red hair. Weasley hair. Sighing, I turn away and begin to dress. What with the rumor mill grinding out tales of You-Know- Who's return by the ton, the Ministry of Magic needs all the help we loyal supporters can supply to combat Dumbledore's lies. You-Know-Who returning indeed, when everyone sane knows that he's been dead for fourteen years! Only fools would believe such a preposterous story!
Which is why I had to leave home. How could I remain in a household suffocated by those determined to undermine the fragile stability that took years for the Ministry to piece together? Dumbledore - oh yes -no one can deny that he was one of the most powerful wizards in modern times - but the graph of his age versus his mental capabilities is an inverse function. High time he stepped aside for someone younger - I can't even count the number of years the senile old wizard has reigned supreme at Hogwarts!
Hogwarts . . . .
I still remember Hogwarts.
Gods, I miss the place - life was so much simpler back then. There were no complications that a young schoolboy wizard could not handle. I was Percy Weasley - perfect student who never got in trouble, never even got a single detention, unlike Fred and George and, now it seems, Ron. Prefect, too, and a conscientious one at that. Unlike so many of my fellow prefects with lower moral standards, I never favored Gryffindor over even Slytherin, impartially docking points from all Houses alike. As Head Boy, I maintained this incorruptibility, swearing that I would prove wrong the Muggle who had declared that power corrupts, vowing that I would be worthy of employment at the Ministry.
And I have. I alone of all my family have proven faithful to our government, faithful to the very end. I alone have had the vision and dedication to skyrocket like a Firebolt from near-disgrace over the Crouch affair to unprecedented success as youngest Junior Assistant to the Minister ever.
How proud I was when Fudge promoted me to work in his very own office! Yet another new triumph to share with Mum and Dad and the rest - not the twins, of course; they never knew when to appreciate successfulness - yet further proof that I of all the children have the brightest future. Oh, Bill and Charlie hold respectable jobs, but Bill's never stopped wearing that ridiculous ponytail and earring (as though he were still an immature teenager!) and goodness knows what Charlie gets up to in middle-of- nowhere Romania. And the twins . . . I've never seen worse. Not a vestige of respect for authority and time-honored traditions. Not a single serious atom in their bodies. As far as I'm concerned, they jettisoned their chances before they even learned the word "prank." Sure, Hogwarts has seldom seen more popular students, but what good is peer acclaim? All that matters is making a favorable impression on superiors. What is popularity?
Still . . . still . . . what I wouldn't have given - what I wouldn't have paid - to have had such friends! Friends to joke with (even though I'm not good at thinking up jokes), to tease and to tease me back, to laugh with in the good times and to sympathize in the bad. What I wouldn't have given for a best friend like Lee Jordan or even Hermione Granger and Harry Potter!
But as it was, I could only watch as friendships drifted by in front of my eyes - elusive wisps of smoke that faded even as I stretched out my hands. As prissy perfect student, then prissy perfect prefect, and finally prissy perfect Head Boy, I could only look on as Fred and George breezed in and out of trouble, miraculously retaining the affection and amusement of not only students but even professors despite their outrageous pranks.
Hunched over a textbook in the Gryffindor common room, I'd raise my head only to see the two of them exuberantly planning their next mischievous episode with Jordan, or Ron deep in discussion with Granger and Potter. And then I'd look back down my homework and redouble my efforts, reminding myself that neither professors nor Penelope would be impressed if my grades slipped.
It angers me even now - how hard I've worked to prove myself all my life! How much effort I've had to cram into every single minute to get where I am! And without even bothering to try, with effortless ease, my parents and my brothers and sister glide through happy lives with plenty of friends who care. Do they deserve that any more than I do, who have never allowed myself to stop working? I hated them all so much the night I finally broke with them over You-Know-Who and Dumbledore! I'd just been promoted and no one cared and Dad even accused me of being a spy against him - as if his own reputation as Muggle fanatic hadn't hindered my ambitions since I graduated from Hogwarts! He and the rest weren't worthy of a son like me, I shouted in his face right before I slammed the door behind me on my path to power.
And I still think that's true. It's only in moments of discouragement that I wonder if all along it was I who was never worthy of them.