Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit off of Harry Potter.
Of course someone was crying by mid-morning the next day, but this time it was Ron. When Percy found him on the back stoop instead of watering the vegetable garden, he'd been ready to scold, but the tear tracks down his face stopped him. Percy hit the relevant questions first, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Ron snuffled, wiping his face on a sleeve as Percy lowered himself to the stoop with a grunt. He reached out to put an arm around Ron's shoulders, but got shrugged off. He knew he should take it as Ron getting back to his usual behaviour; he wasn't one to like being touched when he was upset. It still stung a little, though.
This seemed a little like a sulk, maybe an angry cry, rather than grief, so Percy prompted, "Did you fight with someone?"
"Can't fight someone who won't answer," Ron mumbled, and Percy leaned in, silently expectant. Soon, Ron filled the void, "Harry hasn't replied to any of my letters all summer. Even just to say sorry about… Well, he hasn't written."
Despite his lack of acquaintance with the other boy, he couldn't see the quiet child he'd occasionally directed one place or another and who had seemed so excited to be friends with Ron being that mean-spirited. With a quiet leading tone, "Could there be a reason he couldn't write back?"
When Ron immediately paled, Percy felt a sense of foreboding pass over him, and his next words were no better, "The Dursleys."
"The Dursleys?" Percy echoed, and Ron startled, glancing at him guiltily, as if he'd already let slip something he wasn't supposed to, and the ominous feeling settled in Percy's stomach, "His family? The ones who sent him some muggle money for Christmas?" Now that he thought of it, Harry had been rather taken with his Weasley sweater, which Percy had only noted at the time with annoyance for acting as a foil to his own displeasure at having his sweater forced over his head. While Percy valued his own sweaters to a degree, he wouldn't expect someone outside the family to place much weight on his mother's lumpy knitting unless that small token of acceptance meant something to him.
"Yes," Ron drew out reluctantly, "and they don't like magic much, and it might be that they're not letting Harry write us."
"Who is 'us?'" Percy prodded, and Ron conceded that he'd written their co-conspirator Hermione and she had had no word from the boy, either. Plus, a few of his dormmates had asked him similar questions. Sounds like Harry was liked well enough to ask after, at least. Percy, himself, found the boy to be likeable and quiet, if seemingly reckless when out from under his or another authority figure's eye.
Mixed feelings there, what with the whole Ron-knocked-out-by-a-chess-piece-thing. Ron insisted it had been his idea for Hermione and himself to tag along, that Harry had been ready to go it himself without dragging his friends into it, but… Percy shook the thoughts away; right now, he needed to keep Ron from crying again and see whether Ron's friend was alright.
"We'll try the telephone booth in town this evening, yeah?" Percy patted Ron's back bracingly, "Then we'll see."
"Do you know how to use one?" Ron asked, a dubious expression crossing his face, and Percy rolled his eyes.
"I did help Penny with her revising for Muggle Studies all last year," Percy pointed out proudly, "How hard can it be?"
Percy was very glad he'd convinced Ron to stay put and 'watch Ginny' – using similar arguments on the twins – because telephones were horrifying and terrible contraptions. It had taken him a while to figure out the cleaning charm that would trick the monstrosity into believing it had been paid, something about the movement toggling the gears inside as the spell cleaned out debris, and then longer to figure out how to get an operator. He was glad he'd had the foresight to ask about where Harry lived since evidently the muggle system needed that information to find a specific family. How many Dursleys could there be? And if it was the wrong branch of Dursleys, couldn't they direct him to the right branch easily enough? Did muggle families unrelated to one another run around with the same name or something?
As it was, Percy was dangerously close to punching a hole through the side of the booth when a monotonous, "Dursley household, may I ask who's calling, please?" sounded through the… doohickey that you were meant to listen through. Alright, so Percy hadn't focused as much on the actual Muggle Studies review so much as the way Penny's hair fell over her shoulder when she was focused on something else. She was pure perfection in his eyes; could you blame him?
"THIS IS PERCY WEASLEY," Percy said loudly, hoping he would be heard through the device, "A PREFECT FROM HARRY'S SCHOOL."
"Percy?" The voice echoed excitedly, before someone else interjected something inaudible, and the voice became muffled as it addressed them, leaving Percy to hear only, "…from school… probably in trouble… Yes, I'll tell them…" The voice came back to full volume, then, "Uncle Vernon says you have permission to use whatever corporal punishment you see fit." A shuffling noise as Harry ignored Percy's shocked, "What?"
"Yes, of course, I'll take the call in the other room," the voice- probably Harry – continued blithely, addressing his relatives with something before there was another shuffle, some thumping, a couple clicks, and Harry was breathing heavily as he whispered, "Percy? Why did you call? And don't shout, please."
Meanwhile, Percy had noted and filed away all the little things he had very much not liked about how those conversations with Harry's relatives had sounded, before focusing on the relevant subject, modulating his volume consciously, but still a bit more loudly than usual, "Harry, are you alright?"
"What? I'm fine," Harry said, "Is something wrong?"
"It's just Ron hadn't heard back from you," Percy explained, "Have you gotten any of his or Hermione's letters?"
"…They wrote me?" Harry's voice was still hushed, but rather than out of caution, the tone seemed almost reverent, "Really?"
"Yes," Percy confirmed, Ron's suspicions seeming more likely by the minute, "The Dursleys must be intercepting them before they get to you." His thoughts were on the way those voices had sounded openly hostile, how Ron had said the Dursleys 'didn't like magic,' and that Uncle of his suggesting a complete stranger have open range to decide how to physically punish his child… "I should… I could come by and set up a few mail filtering charms that will guide the owls around anyone muggle trying to grab at them."
"Could you?" Harry's voice was tight with excitement, but the tone lost its happy edge after a beat, "The Dursleys wouldn't want one of my kind visiting, though."
Taking a deep breath, Percy braced himself for the sheer ridiculousness of what he was doing, "When aren't they home?" At this, Harry perked back up again, eager to give him the best times to come by when his Aunt Petunia was having tea with the neighbour ladies and Uncle Vernon was at work, saying he could take care of Dudley if Percy gave him warning. They set up a time two days from then and gave their farewells, hanging up.
This was… silly and indulgent, and Percy didn't like how he seemed to always fear the worst, but he just wanted to make sure he was wrong. Probably, Harry would look bright-eyed and healthy and fine, and Percy would feel like an idiot, spell the boy's window, and return to tell Ron everything was fine.
Unless it wasn't.
Ron seemed more cheerful when he got the news that Harry hadn't been ignoring him, and badgered Percy for the next two days to take him along when he went to fix the problem. The latest, last minute argument was literally as Percy was just finished figuring out the flooing/walking journey he'd have to take – using the public floo directory to map it out – and about to walk into the fireplace.
Ron's exhaustive list of reasons he should be brought along started impassioned and ended with a quiet, "…and I want to tell him about Mum and Dad myself."
Low. Blow.
"Fine!" Percy threw his arms in the air, "Fine! We'll have to walk three kilometres from Riven's Pest Talismans, though, and I don't want to hear you complaining about it!" At once, the solemnity vanished as Ron beamed and bounced until he was almost skipping through the floo. "Do not leave the shop until I'm there!" Percy called as Ron vanished, huffing a put-upon sigh and following his wayward brother. He hated getting played like that.
The trip was not so long, and shortened further by Ron's complete impatience with Percy's pace, grabbing his brother's hand for the first time in a year (in public, no less!) and dragging him faster.
Soon enough, Percy and Ron were knocking on the Dursleys' door. There was a series of thumps and the tone of a mild curse, followed by a louder thump and a scrabbling, then the sound of pounding feet, and abruptly Harry was in front of them, flushed and grinning.
"Ron! You're really here," he said, and he and Ron practically fell into one another, chattering a mile a minute with their arms over each other's shoulders. Percy, on the other hand, followed them into the house at a more sedate pace. The first thing he'd noticed was that Harry looked a bit older than Ron, despite being shorter, and it took him a bit more watching to discern that it wasn't age but Harry's lacking baby fat. His face was leaner than it should be, especially considering the house was in better condition from the outside than the Burrow had ever been in Percy's lifetime. They clearly weren't lacking for funds. Inside, the house was spic and span in a way his mother would have envied, but lacked a personal touch, making it seem as if no one really lived there. The only hint the house was occupied were the family portraits (which sat eerily still in their frames) on the walls and end tables. While the boys talked, Percy lifted one such picture, noting the rotundness of what he assumed were Harry's uncle and cousin, and the lack of any such pictures including Harry. If he'd doubted the Dursleys' inability to feed Harry properly being the cause of Harry's thin face before...
"Harry," Percy interjected, breaking the stream of consciousness that seemed to be flowing between the boys, something about a house elf visit after their last call being discussed, "If you can show me your window, I can cast the charms we talked about, and you and Ron can continue catching up without me listening in." He cast a look at Ron, who sobered a little and nodded, a tad nervously. Here was Ron's chance to let Harry know what had happened in their family, if he wanted to.
A strange look crossed Harry's face, "Does it have to be my window? …And can it block… other things than muggles?"
"Yes and yes, it must be your window; there won't be a proper focus, otherwise," Percy lied, scrutinizing the sudden blank face Harry presented him for any clue what was going through his head. Any window one wanted to use was fine, but the twins had practically trained him to poke when someone was hiding something, "Is there a problem?"
"…No," the answer came from him, reluctant and drawn, and he glanced between Percy and Ron nervously before straightening his spine and heading for the stairs, "This way." As they walked, Harry's pace slowed, "How is it you're allowed to do magic outside Hogwarts? Is it because you're a prefect?"
"I have a permit," Percy replied carefully, before Harry's door came into view. His hand came down on Harry's shoulder, stopping him from opening the lock-laden thing before Percy could completely form the thought, "That's not yours?"
"It's just…" Harry made a few negatory, dismissive hand gestures before reaching up to undo the still-intact locks, searching for words and ending with a lame, "It's nothing." Had he… crawled out the pet door installed in the bottom?
"Get your things," Percy said, and Harry stared at him for a moment in shock. Ron wore a similar expression before he grinned, cottoning on. Maybe he hadn't caught the rest of the clues Percy had, but the locks were probably enough for him to want Harry out of there.
"Come on, Harry, we're planning a jail break," Ron said, taking Harry's hand and pulling him into the room, "Where's your trunk?"
"Locked under the stairs," Harry replied, promptly but with something of a dazed tone, as if he couldn't quite believe this was real. If the locks hadn't sealed it, Harry's easy compliance – he didn't even ask what was going on – sealed the deal for Percy.
Mum would have been infuriated.
"I'll get it," Percy waved off the slight concern in Harry's voice, "Get what you need together for the summer and Hogwarts up here with Ron." Locks up the outside of his door, kept spinning in Percy's mind, disgust strong in the mental tone, locks up the outside of his door, and a pet flap, like they're keeping a werewolf instead of a little boy.
He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with Harry once he sprang him, but he'd write Professor McGonagall about it and Harry could stay at the Burrow in the meantime. The lock fell victim to a culinary charm for flash-freezing ingredients, which, oddly, Oliver Wood had taught him. The story was long and involved trying to make chocolates for Penny and ended in well-hidden disaster. Percy didn't like thinking about it. Point was, the lock was off and Percy was taking the trunk out when he noticed something that gave him pause. There was a cot in the cupboard. It looked to be in disuse, and it really didn't mean anything, but on top of everything else, Percy wondered if Harry had had to drag it out and sleep in the kitchen at some point in his time with the Dursleys. Shaking the thought, he told himself not to be ridiculous; the locks, the pictures, and Harry's malnutrition were bad enough as it was.
He went back upstairs to help the boys, and found a wide-eyed Harry awkwardly petting Ron's arm as the other boy took deep breaths, clearly trying to keep control of himself. Well, Percy could guess the topic of that discussion. At least it was out of the way.
Forcefully calming the sense of urgency, Percy sat on Ron's other side, the boy wiping at his nose and face quickly as Percy ran a hand over his hair, "Alright?"
Ron nodded, sniffing one more time before hopping to his feet and grabbing a small stack of clothes, "Let's go." It appeared that was all Harry was bringing as he trailed obediently after the other boy and Percy focused on the fact that he was keeping Harry away from there until their Head of House could help him figure something out. This was more her job description than his.
Honestly, Percy was surprised how smoothly the whole thing went; although he was dragging Harry's trunk along on his own, it was lighter than he'd expected. No one came home unexpectedly, a hidden watcher didn't jump out of the shadows… All in all, Percy's first foray into vigilantism was going well. At least until a confused looking Ministry owl perched on Harry's shoulder.
Really? Percy thought, putting down the trunk and snatching the letter from the owl's outheld foot, How could they even know…? Ah. It was from the Department of Regulation of Underage Wizardry, giving Harry a warning for his use of a freezing spell. Percy sighed, "Could I borrow a quill, Harry?"
He'd clear that up.
"Percy, why did Harry get told off for your spell?" Ron asked with a steadier voice, looking over Percy's shoulder at the letter before Percy flipped it and scribbled a short note claiming ownership of the spell and handing it back to the rather dazed owl to return to Madam Hopkirk.
"The Trace is based on location, Ron," Percy replied absently as he resumed trunk duties, a little out of breath at the exertion, "It's not like people use magic in their own special, easily identifiable way."
Ron and Harry processed this for a moment, murmuring back and forth about house elves again and something about Fred and George before Ron's head shot up and he pointed at Percy accusingly, "How long have you known this?"
"A handful of years, I don't know," Percy huffed. Really, what was with the sudden desire for knowledge when Percy had neither the breath nor the inclination to elaborate? If only Ron was half so interested the next time he attempted to educate him.
"Years." Ron squeaked indignantly, "You've known we could be doing magic at home for years?"
"Oh, of course we couldn't, Ronald," Percy replied crossly, a bit of pink in his neck from the unanticipated physical labor, and more than a little irritated that it all came back to self-interest, as per usual with his brothers' dips into intellectual curiosity, "That would be illegal."
Now that was a look Percy was used to seeing on his brothers' faces. Hair was pulled briefly in a small fist as if Ron couldn't quite believe the situation before him and needed to remind himself in a tactile manner of its reality. "But no one would know!"
"We would," was the curt response. Honestly, being able to get away with something did not justify actually breaking the law. Even if… he was setting a pretty terrible example taking Harry from his legal guardians without even informing them. Firmly, that thought was pushed down to be examined and panicked over later.
"Just when I thought you might be cool," Ron sighed, and Percy very pointedly did not make a rude gesture at his twelve year old brother in the middle of the street. Not that Ron appreciated it. Oddly, Harry, the usual rulebreaker of the two, looked vaguely thoughtful, and Percy sent up a quick prayer that he might evolve into a good influence on his brother this year. At least that Hermione girl would keep them well in hand in terms of studying.
Soon enough, they made it to Riven's Pest Talismans, gaunt and scraggly Riven leaning over the counter to blatantly watch the three as they entered. Seemed like a slow day. Percy sketched a short bow, amused when Harry hastily copied him, before glancing at a disaffected Ron and straightening back up. Riven waved them through to the public floo before Percy could finish the sentence, waiving the fee since he remembered "herding aboot a cloud o' siblin's and what-have-ye's" in his own youth. Another bow and a thank you and then Percy found himself explaining floo travel to Harry as clearly as he could so the boy wouldn't pop out the wrong grate.
"You'll want to keep your elbows in – yes, like that – and I know I said this already, but really annunciate. You don't want to end up in some random living room, or worse, out another public floo somewhere," Percy lectured, Harry's eyes getting wider and more nervous despite the extra care Percy was taking to make sure he knew what to do. When Harry looked almost ready to risk returning to the Dursleys rather than floo anywhere, Ron intervened.
"He'll be fine, Percy," he complained, turning to Harry and summarizing, "Honestly, you only have to throw in the floo powder and say, 'the Burrow,' and step in."
"Try to breathe in before you throw down the powder," Percy added, unable to help himself at this point, and Harry took a deep breath of his own, nodding slightly.
"Just watch me," Ron said, taking a pinch from above the mantle and demonstrating, vanishing in a flare of green flame. It was his turn to try, and Harry let out a single, anxious laugh as he accepted the floo powder Percy gave him.
Before he did anything, he glanced nervously at Percy, who mimed keeping his elbows in, and Harry mimicked the action, taking a deep breath as instructed before throwing the powder down, and saying, "The Burrow!" To his credit, he didn't hesitate to step into the flames, as Percy logically knew must be against what he'd learned growing up muggle. While it seemed to have gone alright, Percy hastened to follow – better to know earlier and all that. He was relieved both boys had made it through to the other side, although Harry had somehow managed to pick up a great deal more soot than either Weasley. No matter. Percy got the worst of it with the floo brush by the fireplace; that's what it was there for, after all. He tried to ignore how wide Harry's eyes were and how tense the boy was as he brushed him off, but it just added another tick to the growing list of concerns he'd be sending Professor McGonagall when he had a chance to sit down. Really, Harry shouldn't go back to those Dursleys at all, but something made Percy hesitate to think where else he had to go. The Professor would take care of it. Percy just had to get the information into her hands.
The twins were downstairs in an instant, grabbing Harry up and passing him between them like a stuffed animal as they twirled him about. Ah, right, they knew each other through the Quidditch team. Percy wasn't much for all that, but he did know the twins did quite well in their positions, and Harry was the youngest Seeker the team had had in some time. It wasn't as if he could skip out on his brothers' games, after all.
The laughter and excited chatter was almost a shock, after so much quiet broken by fits of shouting or crying, and Percy rather wanted to lean unobtrusively against a wall and soak it in, but, "Where's Ginny?"
George and Fred pointed unabashedly up the stairs, where a squeak of dismay sounded and a flash of red hair vanished around the corner. With an internal groan, Percy nodded and made his way upstairs, leaving the boys to catch up and – well, they seemed to be manhandling Harry into a tour of some sort. Percy made a quick mental note to make sure the entry to the attic was still locked. He didn't need anyone traumatized by the ghoul right now. Though, it had been oddly quiet… He made another note to check on the ghoul later.
Right now, Ginny was priority.
"You're not one for hiding, Gin," he said, dropping a hand on Ginny's head as he sat beside her on her bed, "…Is it the bedtime stories? We can always get rid of those books, it-"
"No!" Ginny said, too quickly, and she blushed when Percy fixed her with a knowing look. It seemed she was still a bit starstruck by the Boy Who Lived. His mother- well, Ginny had begged for the stories, and she'd been read them nightly when she was a sprog. The trend had died off as she aged, but the books about Harry Potter's Adventures were still on her shelf.
Percy's tone was a tad condescending, not that he noticed, "Alright. I know it seems like a lot right now, but you'll see when you're older that a crush isn't something to be so nervous about-"
Cutting him off, Ginny turned away, "I don't have a crush!"
"Well then…" Percy crossed his arms over his chest and looked up to the ceiling, "I suppose you'd just rather be up here alone than be around your brother's best friend. I get it. Ron is enough. Still, you're my little sister, and it's more important you're comfortable… I guess I'll just have to cut the visit short, then; I'm sure he can find somewhere else to go."
"No," Ginny interjected again with emphasis, turning back to Percy with an irritated expression, "And I'm not falling for that, I just- I'm just going to go downstairs now. 'Cause you're wrong." She stood from the bed, ignoring Percy's smug look on his stupid smug face, and stomped downstairs.
"I'm Ginny," Percy heard her state firmly as he followed to the landing, and saw Ginny had shoved her hand into the conversation below, where a bemused Harry took it and gave it a shake with a similarly taken aback introduction. Well, it all seemed to be going well.
"You still have to degnome the garden and water the vegetables yet today," Percy reminded them from atop the steps, waiting for the groans to die down before he continued, "Guest or no guest." Addressing said guest, he asked, having reminded himself, "Do you mind stew, Harry?"
"I don't mind," Harry said, voice that meek and quiet tone it usually was addressing Percy. He knew the boy could raise his voice – he'd heard it when Harry spoke with Ron or the twins. He just didn't when it came to Percy. Pretending to dismiss it, Percy nodded and spun about to leave.
The attic was waiting, after all.
He crept up the next set of stairs to the landing outside Ron's room and tapped the latch on the ceiling with his wand. His mother had keyed him into the lock when he made prefect since she didn't want the kids to go and gawk at the ghoul for no reason, but they did need to shut it up occasionally. When the house was too quiet, it had a tendency to bang pipes about.
"Hello?" Percy called in a low voice, having ascended the ladder he'd pulled down and peeked his head into the attic, "Still alive in there?"
Not a pipe was banged nor a chain rattled, and Percy peered into the gloom, searching for the shock of yellow – ah. The ghoul's strawbright strands of hair spread limply across the floor, the greenish form of the ghoul curled in the corner. Percy might have smiled at the worn overalls his father had left the creature to wear if it weren't so still. Perhaps it had died. He crept closer, letting his footsteps make enough noise to alert it to his coming, but moving slowly enough to hopefully not register as a threat. When he was near enough to lean over the creature, it turned weakly to look at him and made a feeble crooning noise. Still alive, then, but something was wrong. Percy dropped to his knees beside the ghoul and gingerly brushed the lank hair from its face, feeling its forehead lightly for a fever. He'd never actually touched the ghoul before, and the pebbled texture of its skin gave him pause. How would he even know what temperature was normal for a ghoul? He'd never seen the creature in anything less than perfect health before. While he knew any of the Weasley brood would jump at the chance to complain about their ghoul, it was still their ghoul, and he didn't want it to die because he didn't know what he was doing. It sighed, leaning into the hand Percy had forgotten on its forehead in uncommon placidity.
It felt cold rather than hot, and given that it had bunched itself into a ball for warmth, Percy figured it might be best to bring it down by the fireplace. The ghoul occasionally made its own way downstairs, to the dismay of the Weasley parents, and had to be let back up into the attic when it tired of hitting pots and pans, so it shouldn't be terribly shocked at the change in background.
Sadly, there was only one person who he might contact about this. The house was empty, his siblings out in the yard, seemingly teaching Harry how to degnome a garden, as Percy reluctantly stuck his head in the floo.
"Ah, hello, Percy," a dreamy voice greeted him, as Luna clasped her hands behind her back and rocked from toe to heel, "Did you want something? Our dirigible plums aren't ripe yet, but Ginny does like them a little sour."
Shaking off the seeming non-sequitur, Percy asked, "Is your father home, Luna?"
"Yes," she replied, going still and Percy waited for a moment before he sighed.
"Would you fetch him, please?" She nodded and dashed off, like a spelled paper airplane abruptly given purpose, and Percy waited through the inevitable clatters and crashes before Xenophilius Lovegood emerged from a nearby room, trailing parchment and a variety of burrs from his robe pockets, and a few feathers haphazardly clinging to his hair. It was incredibly likely none of this was purposeful.
"Ah, hello, Percy," he said, echoing his daughter and absently peering about, "What can I do for you?"
"Our ghoul is sick, I think, and I'm not sure how to recognize what it's sick with, much less treat it," Percy confessed.
"Him," Xenophilius corrected, looking over the tops of the glasses just barely clinging to his nose, "You don't know how to treat him."
"Can you help him, then?" Percy knew better than to fight that battle… again.
"Oh, I can take a look at him," Xenophilius replied airily, motioning Percy back. Percy pulled out of the flames moments before Xenophilius walked through, "Where is the sprog?"
"Over here," Percy gestured at the pile of blankets and pillows he'd wrapped the thing in, and Xenophilius tottered over, unpeeling the ghoul for a better look. It hissed mildly at him, before making a few grumbly gurgling noises. Its hand brushed Percy's arm, startling him, and then giving him an additional shock when he realized it was reaching for him. Quietly, deciding never to mention this to his brothers on pain of eternal teasing torment, Percy took the ghoul's hand in his own. It settled immediately, foreign face still slightly tense, but no longer weakly attempting to get away.
"Any deaths in the family?" Xenophilius asked lightly, before taking in Percy's somewhat angry stare and clearing his throat, "Right, right. Well, that's the problem. Your ghoul, here, has bonded himself to this family, to your magic."
"To our magic?" Percy asked, alarmed, but Xenophilius waved a hand.
"Perhaps I misspoke, he has… taken on characteristics of your family's magic. Sort of adopted himself in, you could say."
"Magic doesn't have characteristics," Percy began didactically, but his tone wavered at Xenophilius's expression, "…Does it?"
"Of course it does, every living thing changes a little when it interacts with another," Xenophilius grumbled dismissively, now poking the discomfited-looking ghoul in the shoulder with his wand.
"But the Ministry-"
"The ministry, bah!" Xenophilius shook his head, "As if they truly know anything about magic." Percy felt his hackles rise just a bit, but he was neighbors with this man and he was depending on him to help their ghoul, so perhaps he should avoid being sucked into another type of unending argument.
"I see," Percy said stiffly, and Xenophilius patted his shoulder condescendingly, still focused on prodding the ghoul with his wand, "So how does that translate into a sick ghoul?"
"Well, the family magic is… missing a piece so to say, and if you're unhappy, your magic is unhappy. If your magic is unhappy, it doesn't get along too well with your ghoul." Another prod to the cheek and the ghoul snapped sharp teeth at the wand, but Xenophilius didn't seem fazed, "If he hadn't bound himself to the family, he'd be fine right now, but as it is, he's being… drained is probably the best word for it."
Well, that was just great to know. What did that binding entail? Why would the ghoul do it? Percy had a great deal of questions he'd like to ask, but he started with the most pressing, "What do we do? We can't just be happy when… We can't just cheer up, anyway."
"You could toss him out," Xenophilius suggested, tucking a wayward strand of wispy white hair behind his ear, "It would break the bond and he'd recover within a day."
"So we leave it outside for a day…?" Percy prompted, looking for more explanation.
"No, no, you'd have to throw him out. Exile him. Permanent banishment," Xenophilius elaborated with sweeping gestures and the ghoul fidgeted at the amount of quick movement within its range of vision.
"Let's… keep that on the back burner for now." Letting the ghoul die wasn't an option but exiling him would be the last resort. He still didn't understand this bond business, but adopting oneself into a family sounded like there was some sort of trust involved. "Is there anything else we can do?"
Xenophilius scratched at his chin with his wand, making Percy swallow down admonishments along the lines of you'll blast your face off, until he came upon an idea, "Healing potions and the like don't work very well cross species, but your mother was quite an accomplished hedge witch and there's likely something there that'll work."
A whimper from the ghoul made Percy hastily loosen his abrupt deadman's grip. Hearing it brought up so easily was nearly… He wasn't sure what to feel. Whatever it was that settled into Percy's stomach kneaded the bottom with razor sharp claws and curled to stay, "You knew?"
"Doesn't everyone?" Xenophilius asked, taken aback, "I suppose no one spoke of it out of politeness, but I assumed the signs were obvious. I apologize if it were meant to be a secret family practice; I'm not in the habit of ferreting those out anymore."
"I can't… It's fine," Percy heard himself say, as if from a distance, "It's not a family practice."
"Ah, good, I'll leave you to it," he stood cheerily, awkwardness on his part completely forgotten, and tottered to the fireplace, "Any sort of health wishes will do. If he doesn't recover in a few days, floo me again." With that, he was gone.
Feeling numb as the gaggle of children filed in behind him, having finished with the garden and beginning to move their attention to the ghoul on the floor, Percy decided it couldn't hurt.
It didn't take too long to explain the situation to the others, though when Percy added a quick explanation of hedge magic for Harry, the boy had immediately gotten lost in thought. Not paying it any mind, Percy had busied himself with busying them. No one was weaselling out of dinner duty tonight. While he'd started the stew itself earlier in the day, they had to make a separate meal for the ghoul.
"Right," Percy tugged once at his earlobe and straightened clapping his hands together, "Tonight we're going to perform a little experiment to see if we can help the ghoul with the hedge magic set up we've got in the kitchen. We'll need to find any containers and utensils we can that have to do with health," he could see Ron whispering into Harry's ear about something, now, and a bit of irritation tingled at his fingertips, "Please pay attention, Ronald. Once we've rounded those up, I'd like you, Fred, George, to dig up a few carrots from the garden and two potatoes. After that's done, you can all eat dinner." Seeing no movement from his siblings and houseguest, he made a shooing gesture, "Hop to, all. The faster you're done, the faster you eat." Catching Harry's gaze, Percy added, "Of course, Harry, you're a guest, and you needn't bother yourself."
A negating shake of the head from Harry, and that small voice, "I'll help." At least when Harry had been still in the thrill of pulling one over the Dursleys or making his escape, he had had a more casual tone. It was something to note for later, but Percy had already taken too much notice of it and so reminded himself again that Professor McGonagall would take care of it.
Percy rolled up his sleeves; it was time to step out of his comfort zone and into... well, the kitchen.
He was just stepping into the kitchen.
Alright, so that didn't parse out too well in his head, but it was still a matter of life and death.
Percy sighed and got to work.
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