IWSC3 round 6 writing school
Beauxbatons exchange student 1
Technique: Clarity in writing
Prompt: "Save your breath to cool your potion."
Word count: 986
Short and Sweet
George, Fred and Ginny were chattering busily as they made their way toward Gambol and Japes through the light rain falling on Diagon Alley. The twins planned to spend their Christmas money on replenishing their stock of Dungballs, and they had promised to take Ginny to pet the Puffskeins in the Magical Menagerie afterwards.
Suddenly, Ginny nudged Fred. "Look who's coming."
Fred's face darkened as he saw Percy striding self-importantly down the pavement.
"Well, well, well," he murmured. "George, I think we should greet our errant brother, don't you?"
The stack of documents in Percy's arms jostled with the handle of the umbrella he had tucked into one armpit. A sudden gust of wind whipped the umbrella's canopy sideways and Percy bent his head forward to shield the papers from the rain. Fred stepped sideways, squarely into his brother's path.
"Hello, Percy."
Percy jumped, then clutched at his papers. "Oh…er…hello, Fred."
"Hello, Percy," said George and Ginny in unison, as they ranged themselves on either side of him.
Percy shuffled his feet. "Er, hello. Look, I-I'm in a bit of a hurry, so if you wouldn't min—"
"We're not," said all three.
"Come now, Percy," added George reprovingly, "surely you're not too busy to talk to your brothers and sister, whom you haven't seen for months?"
"Well…er…I have to deliver these pap—"
"Don't tell me you're running late for once, Perce," exclaimed George in mock alarm.
"Of course not," snapped Percy. "I'm early—something you two don't know anything about."
"Aha! So you do have time to talk to us!" Fred leapt on the admission.
Percy cast a hunted glance around him, but the hurrying crowds of passers-by offered no escape.
"Well, perhaps for a minute or two," he conceded reluctantly. "But be brief."
The twins nodded solemnly. "Of course. We'll be the soul of brevity."
"It's quite simple, Perce," continued George. "We just want to know when you're coming home to apologise."
"Apologise? For what?"
"For being such an idiot as to put the Ministry ahead of your family—"
"—and for not believing Harry and Dumbledore about You-Know-Who's return," Fred added.
Percy tut-tutted impatiently. "Really, boys! I've got much better things to do with my time than listen to this kind of rubbish. The Minister knows full well what is really going on, and he has my full support. These wild fantasies about You-Know-Who's return are total inventions, put about by Dumbledore as part of his scheme to seize power in the Ministry. They have absolutely no basis in fact, I assure you."
Fred shook his head sadly. "With all that ambition of yours, Percy, I really don't know how you ended up in Gryffindor! The Sorting Hat should've put you in Slytherin."
Percy's face reddened. "Don't be ridiculous! It's not about ambition—I simply have more sense than you. And I suppose you've been encouraging Ron in his idiotic support of Potter, too. He never answered the letter I sent him, warning him to be careful about associating with such an unstable character."
"What letter?" demanded the twins, and then George added, "There's your answer, Perce. We didn't even know about it."
"I'm sure he takes his tone from you, though. And what about Ginny, here? You should at least think about the example you're setting her. She's still young enough to be brought to a realisation of the true state of affairs, if only she were given the right guidance."
Ginny glared at him. "Save your breath to cool your potion, Percy. I'm quite old enough to make up my own mind, and I know Harry too well to doubt him. What's more, let me remind you I know far more about Voldemort than you ever will! You've had plenty of chances and made your choice. I'm not listening."
She crossed her arms and turned away. Percy raised his eyebrows superciliously at her uncompromising back and looked at Fred and George.
"She's right," they spoke together.
Then George added, "We're not listening, either, but we can still tell you a few home-truths. For one, you're an absolute git."
"Two," chimed in Fred, "you're stupider than we thought."
"Three, you should know better," George contributed.
"Four, you're a traitor to the Order," was Fred's next point.
"Five, you're a disgrace to our name."
Percy tried to interrupt his brothers' rapid crossfire of accusations, but they raised their voices and swept on. He lowered his umbrella a little and hunched his shoulders, hoping not to be noticed by any of his colleagues.
"Six, you're a pompous, power-loving prat."
"Seven, you're a gullible, Ministry-loving fool."
"Eight," cut in Ginny, with her back still turned, "we should've known not to trust you, given we can't see where you keep your brain."
Fred and George grinned appreciatively at each other.
"Nine," resumed Fred, "you're a steaming heap of rat droppings."
"And worst of all," declared George, with outraged emphasis, "you made Mum cry! How dared you send back that jumper? You know how much love she puts into them—you might as well have slapped her in the face!"
A brief flicker of shame crossed Percy's face, but then his expression hardened into its usual self-righteousness. He looked pointedly at his watch.
"Since you don't have anything important to say, I really must be going. I'm terribly busy."
Fred looked at George. "I believe we've said the important things, haven't we, George?"
"Most of them," agreed his twin, "but you know what it's like—you always think of more, afterwards."
Fred nodded. "Very true. Well, in that case"—he stepped aside and gestured with one arm—"until next time, Percy."
Percy shifted the papers in his arms, tucked the umbrella's handle more firmly into his armpit, and strode past Fred with all the dignity he could muster, uneasily conscious of his three siblings glaring after him and the veiled threat in those final words.