The Patchwork Weasley

Chapter One

I'm Adopted?!

It was just another normal summer day. Sixteen-year-old Percy Weasley was sat in Mr Richardson's barbershop. He was clad in a pair of checkered dark pink trousers and an oversized black short-sleeved hoodie, which had received its bout of ridicule from the twins when he was leaving with his mum that morning. But Fred and George's fruitful (quite literally) comments were forgotten now that Percy was panting heavily after nearly being mutilated by a pair of runaway scissors. He had closed his eyes in fear that one of his ears would end up being chopped off whilst Richardson gestured wildly at his hair, the scissors jerking with every eye roll he made.

"Left me!" Richardson called out. "Left me to go to join a circus! My own husband of ten years! I'll bloody show him!"

"Mr Richardson!" Percy let out a nervous squeal. "My face! I quite like it in one piece, you know!"

Percy ducked when the scissors were flung carelessly, almost slicing his cheek. Richardson didn't seem to notice, and kept on wagging his fingers, the scissors twitching in the air.

"I'll bloody KILL him for what he's done! Garrot him with that-that balancing beam of his! Bet him and the lion tamer are getting their animalistic urges settled right in!" added Richardson. He supposed he had a right to be murdering his spouse on the basis that he knew him and all, but Percy had no idea what he'd done to his man. His face turned pasty white. He'd felt his heart beat out of his chest. Percy Weasley, sixteen years old, died from the barbershop after being sliced by a pair of magical scissors. What an absolute plonker, his gravestone would say. But I suppose his hair isn't that bad. "Oh, love, look at you. Pale as a ghost. What's going on in your mind, Percy? How about a coffee? Hmm?"

In fear of his life, he nodded his head back at Richardson who just laughed. A cup of hot coffee whizzed its way to the table in front of him, but it wasn't like Percy could sip it with how the older man was jerking his hair out of his scalp.

"That's a latte," Richardson said. "Only the best for my customers."

Percy nodded his head. "Thank—" again, another jerk of his hair with his rather aggressive hand.

"I love your hair," Richardson finally said, running his fingers through Percy's damp, fire-red curls.

"Thank you," Percy absolutely loathed his hair. He couldn't wait until he could chop most of it off so that he didn't have to deal with trying to detangle it with more Primpernelle hair products that his own little sister owned. He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I suppose that after this, I'll just be going—"

"There's a discount that I have on this care package!" Richardson bellowed out.

"Um…um…" Percy stammered uncomfortably.

"How about we do a facial right after this?" Richardson wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And a cheeky massage?"

"Well…I suppose…" Percy didn't want a bloody facial. And he didn't want Richardson's jerky hands over his body.

"You don't have to act like that, Percival," Richardson feigned being upset. "I know you younger boys have an issue with me, a gay man's, hands all over your chiselled little bodies… speaking of being young, you are of age, aren't you? I mean you look very mature. I've always just assumed that you've just left Hogwarts, you've got that glint about you."

Percy was suitably creeped out and flattered. He did not have a chiselled body that was for one. "Uh, no?"

"I'm so lonely," Mr Richardson looked like he was about to cry. "You know, we've been together for so long. I thought he was going to be the one that I died! The selfish, sodding BASTARD had to just ruin our relationship! I hope an elephant smashes his peanuts—and I do mean peanuts here, Percy, you've never seen a more pathetic assortment of—" his scissors jerked again, and Richardson looked pale white when he'd heard a snip-snip-snip. "Oh, Merlin, Percy, I'm sorry!"

All the blood drained out of Percy's face when he looked at the mirror. His hair couldn't look any worse than if he'd let Fred and George take a whack at it with their junior scissors kit. "Um…"

"It's got a lot of character," Richardson finally said. "Yes, it does, doesn't it?"

"Mr Richardson—"

"Fine!" Mr Richardson put his hands down and sighed. "I'll give you a discount for TWO massages! There! My hands are tied!"

Percy thought that if Richardson's hands really were tied, they wouldn't be in this mess.

"PERCY!" his mum's voice came from outside. She staggered into the barber's shop with more shopping bags than you'd ever believe a woman of her height could even carry. She was panting outside. "Are you done with your haircut?" she then caught sight of Percy sat at the chair and sighed deeply. "Come on, love, we're going to be late! Let's not waste any more time! I have to get the roast on, it's already almost noon! I wouldn't be able to have it done before five!"

"Another time I suppose," Richardson chuckled. "Full discount for you next time. Um… you know, wearing hats in the summer is very trendy nowadays. Though I don't suppose you schoolboys care about clothing trends and the like..."

"Well, Mr Richardson—"

Richardson cut him off, adding, "It's not really that bad of a cut. You know, in the right light."

He nodded his head numbly. Richardson got up and Percy practically whizzed out of the chair as quickly as he could. He'd overpaid Richardson and was out of the shop before his mum could yell at him again.

"What's happened to your hair?" Molly looked at him rather suspiciously. "I thought you could get your hair cut without turning it into a circus." Percy was quite sure that he was very sick of hearing about circuses.

Percy's ears went red. "There was an incident with—"

"Do you want an ice cream?" Molly paused suddenly as they were walking into Diagon Alley. Before he could even answer, she'd somehow manage to smack a couple of sickles into his hand. "Just a quick one. Go on."

"Um…" Percy stammered but his mum was staring at him. "Thank you?"

Percy supposed that he wouldn't mind a couple of scoops of butterscotch.

Molly sighed, shaking her head. "And please, please don't get anything with that dragon oil that's popular nowadays, love. I don't have time to be stopping about in the hospital. With those allergies of yours…"

He wasn't exactly planning on buying any reptile oil flavoured ice cream. He wasn't exactly that adventurous. He was the kind of bloke that lightly coated his mash in gravy, not smother it like his siblings. Percy wandered over to the vendor, his face reflected on the glossy surface, and he realised that his haircut made him look like an absolute prat.

"Percy! You look so handsome today!" the vendor, a bubbly forty-year-old woman with glossy lippy and lashes that were spidery enough to make an Acromantula shudder. "We've got a new caramel ice cream. It's got a salted caramel swirl, honeycomb and white chocolate bits. Absolutely nut-free. You'll love it." Before Percy could even say anything, she'd had scooped it out for him on his favourite waffle cone and his ears had gone red. "Tell your mum that she can pay me later. She looks like she's quite in a hurry. It is a little late for her to be around here, you know, when she has the Sunday roast to prepare and all. How's Ron been like after what's happened at school? I've heard there was a break-in—"

"PERCY!" his mum shrieked from where she was stood away from him for five minutes.

"—well, you can tell me about it another day," she grabbed his cheek and pinched it. "The haircut really suits you, love."

"Thanks," Percy answered, when he knew his haircut was a disaster.

As he turned to walk away, he could hear the vendor turn to her son. "Poor Percy," she'd said. "Did you see his haircut? Looks like an inebriated troll done that with a pair of hedge trimmers. Do you think I could ask where he's done it?"

His mum then tore him away but instead of immediately going back home, she got side-tracked by a Primpernelle's vendor that claimed that they sold drinks that could make you lose about half a stone in three days.

"That's a stone in a week," his mum calculated. "I could shed a stone, you know. The boys I've had—right porkers straight out of the womb—thought all that breastfeeding will help me shed a few stones but…well, the crying and the nappy changing makes you want to reach right in for that double-dipped fried chocolate honey cake." Percy was sure that was just a thing that his mum made up. There was no way that they sold fried honey cake. But it sounded rather nice.

"Completely safe and worth the results," the vendor, who had three-quarters of her breasts out, said.

Percy's ears went red, turning away from her because he felt rather awkward and threatened by the size of them. "Mum."

"Just a minute, love, you don't see me rushing you," his mum said after she'd rushed him out of the ice-cream cart and from his barbershop. Percy sighed deeply. He wished he wasn't so lame that he enjoyed popping into Diagon Alley with his mum on Sunday to get all her errands done. "Do you think I should get the Get Slimmer than A Wand Teatox or this TrimLife shake package? The strawberry raspberry cake flavour looks interesting, don't you think?"

"Mum, it won't taste like cake," Percy mumbled to her.

"Well, of course not!" Molly looked at him like she was rather angry at him for suggesting that. "Is that really how you look at me, Percival? Like this woman who just eats cake?" Percy just shrugged mindlessly, not answering anymore. She was the one that said that she reached straight for that 'double-dipped fried chocolate honey cake' a second ago. "Now, do you think I need a shaper potion?"

"What does a 'shaper potion' mean?"

"I suppose that it just…um…shapes you right." Molly didn't look like she was shaped wrong. "You know, you don't have to pick apart everything you don't understand. This is a specialised programme, you know."

"Mum, let's just go home," Percy whined. "They're just trying to take your money."

"Hmmph. You'd say that. You don't have a weight problem." She paused as if to think about it. "Well, you have put on a lot of weight lately. I'd watch that if I were you, love. You've started to get thick around the middle."

"I know, mum," Percy sighed deeply. "You've told me yesterday." And the day before that. In fact, the first thing that she'd said when he'd got off the train was 'Merlin, they've been fattening you up at Hogwarts, haven't they?'

His mum looked like she was about to buy it until another woman with a fat-free frame had said that it was worth it even though it turned your urine a radioactive colour. Percy had tried to eat his ice cream as slow as possible so that he could try to endure the various testimonies about how they'd lose a limb if they could fit into their size-eight pants again. Fortunately, after not buying the potions (and rattling Percy's ears off about how his father didn't mind her body so much anyway), they ended up arriving home about an hour later. His mum, stressed out of her mind, immediately went to prepare the Sunday roast.

Percy took a shower. He put on a pair of old black sweatpants and a gigantic Puddlemere United jumper even though he hated Puddlemere. It had to belong to Charlie or one of the twins because it was three times his size (they were all muscular and could probably bench press a Norwegian Ridgeback). His socks were mismatched because nobody at home owned a single pair of socks, not even him. After the warm shower, all Percy could think about was getting into his bed and falling asleep. He climbed into his bed and must've fallen asleep for about ten minutes before he'd heard a knock at his door.

"Hmm?" Percy looked up from his bed. His glasses were folded beside him. "Yes?" he said in an annoyed, clipped tone.

He didn't expect to see his father slowly opening the door. Percy couldn't tell if it were the lighting of the room, but he just generally looked a little pale. "Um, Percy?" his father sounded uncertain, as if there would be someone else sleeping in his room at this time of the day. "Are you awake? I can always come back another time if you'd like to…"

"Is he awake?" it was Molly's voice, soft and compassionate.

"I suppose I am now." He'd have to thank his father for that. First time he'd visited his room since he was a child, and it was to come in and ask him if he were sleeping when he'd had all the lights closed and had all his covers on him. "Yes?"

His mum was peering from his father's shoulder. "Oh, love, we need to talk to you."

"About…?" Percy's voice sounded slurred to him; drowsy.

Percy wondered if that meant that the twins had squashed Scabbers whilst he was away, if they'd set his prefect badge on fire, or if maybe he'd been rejected from the summer school that he'd been hoping to go to since he'd come back home. But the way that their faces were so tight and sombre made him think of the worst. Even his hazy, knackered self knew that this was serious.

"Mum? Dad? What are you doing in Percy's room?" Percy heard Ginny ask. He was wondering the same thing.

"I bet that Perfect Prefect Percy's finally in trouble!" one of the twins called out happily. They were dying to see the day where he'd mess up and do something horrific. Percy would like to tell him that there was no fat chance of that, but his mind was still heavy and groggy from the short sleep he'd had. "Finally, the perfect git did something wrong!"

"Don't talk to your brother like that," his mum said, with about as much bite to her tone as a floppy flobberworm.

"Percy's in trouble?" he heard Ron ask, sounding gleeful himself. He was stood next to his father. "What did he DO?"

"Percy's not in trouble," Arthur said solemnly. Percy didn't know what to make of that. His father was still in his Ministry clothes, as if he'd come straight in from his work. He looked like he'd just about bothered to take off his shoes. His mum had just been running around the kitchen a little while back, trying to stuff her chicken in the oven as fast as she could—with the correct array of charms—so that it could be cooked well by the time they sat down for dinner.

"I'm not?" Percy echoed incredulously.

"Of course not, sweetheart. Of course, you're not in trouble! When's the last time you've been in trouble?" Molly then walked into his room. "Close the door behind you, love," she'd told Arthur, which rang alarm bells into Percy's ear.

When his father had shut the door, Percy's room suddenly shrunk a good few feet. It was just the three of them in Percy's already very small room. He wondered what Ginny, Ron and the twins were talking about outside. They were probably making up theories about how Percy accidentally left his lamp on when he went to sleep last night (as if.)

"Why do you need the door closed?" Percy sat up, fully awake now.

"Percy—"

"What's going on?" his voice rose.

His parents sat at the edge of his bed, which made him realise how small his bed was. Nobody really spent time in his room but himself, except for the very few instances where Fred and George would be caught rummaging through his bookshelves to look for his prefect badge to try and destroy it even more. Percy reached out for his glasses and put them on. He didn't know why he bothered because the room was so dimly lit that he could barely see. He was already blind in one eye (his mum had attributed that to a nasty eye infection when he was a baby) and the other one was wonky, so it didn't help much. He could barely make out his parents' flaming red hair, much less their features.

"This is nice," his mum said, when she knew in fact that this was not nice.

"Err…" Percy thought he might actually throw up.

"I don't know why we don't do this more often," Arthur stated. Maybe because Percy would likely have a coronary if his parents just walked in and out of his bedroom whenever they wanted?

Another wave of silence hit the room as Percy held his breath in. He didn't know what they were going to tell him. He had been mechanically weaving through all the things that he'd done and the only thing he could really think would warrant this kind of talk was that they found out, by some way or another, that he ran in the same pools as Mr Richardson from the barbershop. A fact he hoped would ever reach that man as long as he lived to complain about his ex-husband.

"Dad, what are you—"

"You know," Arthur decided to start talking. "Charlie and Bill are coming home today. From Egypt and Romania—well, Romania and Egypt." There was a small glint in his eyes, as if he thought what he said was top-notch comedy and the Three Broomstick should be employing him as their stand-in act for the night. "That'll be quite nice now, wouldn't it? To just sit down all together and have a nice dinner."

"I suppose," Percy felt very guarded.

"And talk about things," Molly reached out to hold his hand and squeeze it. Percy decided that he was very worried right then and there. He did not want to talk to anyone about anything that had to do with him. He didn't want the twins to know, he didn't want his parents to know, and he certainly didn't want his cool older brothers to know.

Percy straightened his back. "I don't think that we've got anything to talk about, m—"

"We love you so, so much," Arthur decided to cut him off and say.

His parents looked at each other like they always did when they were about to tell him any kind of bad news. Like the fact that Ginny had to have her appendix out and Percy was the one that had to look after the twins and Ron for a couple of days whilst they were in the hospital, or the fact that they didn't know where Fred and George had hidden his diary, but they didn't think that it was 'that' important. His mum was stroking his hand like he was a Kneazle wanting to be loved. And his father was looking at him like he felt sorry for him!

"We'd do anything for you," his mum continued on.

"And you're our son no matter what happens," his father smiled as warmly as he could. He looked like he was almost in pain. "But we just wanted you to know that…and it pains me to say this but you're old enough now—almost going to be of age soon enough—and certain situations have arisen where…we can't really control the outcome."

"And this situation is…?" Percy prompted with a raise of an eyebrow.

Arthur was not getting to the point. "Do you remember what I asked you about the sorting when you were a first year?"

Yes, his father had been more stressed than ever when he'd received the letter the next day, asking about the sorting. In fact, when Percy had gotten off the train that year, he'd kept prodding him with questions about what the Sorting Hat had really asked him. It was bizarre because he didn't ask Bill, Charlie, the twins, Ron or Ginny any of those questions!

"Did it really sort you in Gryffindor?" Arthur asked all of a sudden. "Was that really the first thing it had said?"

"Arthur, does that matter now?" Molly looked at him in annoyance.

Percy winced at the thought. No, the Sorting Hat had not originally seen him in Gryffindor. In fact, it had tried to put him in Slytherin for a good duration for the whole ten minutes that he'd had the Hat on him. It was one of the most excruciating Hat Stalls that night if he could remember correctly. When Percy had told him that all his family were in Gryffindor, the Hat had told him that he 'must be mistaken' and that he'd 'never seen one of him before.' Percy really thought that that thing needed to be replaced. It was dusty, old and could probably use a stitch or two (which made the Hat more determined to put him into Slytherin, Percy was sure). When Charlie had been sorted, the Sorting Hat had rattled on about how alike he was to Bill. But the Hat hadn't compared him to Bill, Charlie, his father or anyone else that he knew.

"Err…no," Percy was surprised by how indifferent he sounded. "It wanted to put me into Slytherin. But I…"

"Oh, love, you shouldn't have forced it to put you in a different house," his mum replied.

Percy supposed that he should've had this time before his first year? He was due to graduate next year, for Merlin's sake.

"Slytherin," his father echoed, as if tasting that on his tongue. "That would've been very different." Percy was a little relieved that his father didn't seem to care. It was like he'd assumed that he'd be in another House.

"I suppose." Was this about his sorting? Percy didn't understand.

"Do you remember when you told me that it made a joke?"

"Yes," Percy recalled that very clearly. "It said it's never seen one of me before." He rolled his eyes.

He could remember Bill and Charlie laughing about it, but Percy found it quite a strange comment for the hat to make. That thought didn't last long because he was starving and there were warm Cornish pasties and roast potatoes everywhere.

"That's because it hasn't," Arthur finally said. Percy jerked his head up. What did that mean? "Percy, you're…you're our son. And no matter what happens, no matter what you might think or feel, you'll always be our child. You'll always have a home here. You'll always have people that would love you unconditionally. But…we didn't have you."

Percy's mind went numb for a few seconds, trying to digest what his parents were telling him.

"Unbelievable," Percy was furious.

"Percy, love…" his mum went out to reach for him, but he'd had enough.

He kept shaking his head. He couldn't believe this. He got out of his bed and practically stormed out of his room. He didn't have to go far because Ron and Ginny were laughing, and he twins were sniggering in the hallway like they've done something incredible.

"Have you two absolutely lost the plot?" Percy yelled at the twins.

Fred cocked his head. "What in Merlin's name, dear brother—"

"—are you talking about?" George finished off. He hated it when they did that. "Have you—"

"—finally lost the plot?" Merlin, Percy was going to throttle Fred. Going to throttle them both.

They'd both gone quiet and looked at each other rather quizzically. That wouldn't work on him. What was he? Five? And even then, it wouldn't work on him.

"You're trying to tell me that you didn't know about this?" he turned to Ron and Ginny. He wouldn't be surprised. "You know what? I'm sick of you lot trying to tell me that I'm adopted because I'm not like you! And for the record, you could try to be a little more discreet about it! Or even a tad original. Now, what is it that you've put in mum and dad's drinks exactly?" he placed his hands over his hips. "And how are you intending on reversing it?"

The twins paled.

"Oh, Merlin, when you fix this, you're going to be in awful trouble, I tell you!" Percy warned.

"Perce, we didn't put anything in mum and dad's drinks," Fred explained.

"We didn't?" George looked at Fred before he nodded his head. "Oh. So does this mean you're really—"

"—adopted?" Fred looked at him like he was stunned. Like he didn't really think that that was true. "Is that what mum and dad were saying?"

"That's not true," George looked just as affronted as Percy felt. But that couldn't be right! Was this all a joke?

"Yeah," Fred looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

"Percy's adopted?" Ginny looked at Ron like she didn't believe it, but he just shrugged.

"Don't act so coy with me," Percy crossed his arms. If he really was adopted, then they all must've known and had kept this a secret from him. And if that was true, then to hell with all of them. How dare his siblings know before he did? "I know that this is one of your silly little pranks. I just know it. I'm-I'm not bloody adopted. I'm…" his shoulders shook.

"Percy," his mum had peered out of the doorway. "Percy, love, these are your papers."

His mum walked over to him and was holding a bunch of papers in her hands. Percy thought that that couldn't be right, but when he peered into it and saw the orphanage stamps and dates, he felt his world crumble before him. His mum reached over to hold his arm, but he just kept shaking his head and backing away.

"We got you on the twenty-second of August," Molly soothingly said. "That's why we said it was your birthday."

Percy didn't want to hear about that. He felt a gut-wrenching betrayal.

"You knew," Percy's voice cracked. He couldn't believe that his siblings didn't know.

"We.. we didn't…" Fred looked outright horrified. George was pale white.

"You all knew," Percy didn't know why else they'd be telling him off for being so different all the time if it weren't true. He could feel his chest tightening and he could barely breathe. "I've always felt like I didn't belong and now, I know that I don't. That this was all a lie…" what was this? He turned around and was about to head back to his room, but his father grabbed his shoulder and looked at him very sternly. "I was your charity."

The words had cut his family deeply and he knew that.

"Listen to me, Percival," his voice was warm but yielding and stern. Like a doting teacher. "You have no idea what kind of state you were in when we took you back home. You were…" his father shook his head.

"I was what?" Percy's voice croaked. "You felt bad for me? Is that it?"

Arthur looked like he'd been slapped into the face. As if he'd been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin, and Percy felt that much sicker. They bought him in so they could feel better about themselves.

"And why are you telling me now?" Percy's voice turned colder. "Out of the goodness of your hearts, I reckon?"

Molly looked like she was going to cry at any time. His siblings were stood, frozen. Percy was sure that their roast dinner was going to be set on fire at the rate that things were going. "Your mum met us a few weeks ago. She was so young when she had you that they took you in without—without really telling her." His mum admitted. "And she's gone to the Wizengamot court. Said she had no ability to consent to something like that. She had a very…difficult birth and wasn't thought to have been made out of it. She was in intensive care for a long time. And they…"

"You want to give me back," Percy surmised. His eyes were wide and very erratically blue.

"We don't want to give you back," Arthur said stiffly. "There was a trial in the Wizengamot that we've been…attending and we thought that it would sort itself out. They decided that she couldn't consent to giving away her baby at the time. You've been taken away nearly a year after she'd delivered. She was still in hospital. She hadn't even looked at you before you were handed over—and they decided that that meant that you couldn't be adopted." That sounded like a load of bollocks. "They don't like to mess about these cases, of course when it comes to…comes to half-bloods and muggleborns that is. They probably thought that they were doing us a favour when they said your mum could have you back."

Percy looked like he'd been slapped in the face. He felt like he'd shrink into the wall.

"Your mother is kind enough that she agreed that…" Molly looked like he was looking for the words, "that…that we'd share."

"Share me?" Percy was in disbelief. Why didn't anyone ask him what he'd wanted? Maybe there was the fact that he had his own opinions and emotions. Maybe he didn't want to be shared between two bloody families!

His mum went red. "Oh, Percival, we don't mean it like—"

Percy stormed into his room and shut the door. He let out a deep, jagged inhale before he'd heard his mum to his father, "He just needs more time. It's such shocking news…he wasn't prepared to hear that." He sunk to the floor, crumbling his own adoption papers. His adoption papers that the Wizengamot deemed to be illegal. He looked at the papers and felt his heart beat so fast in his chest out of rage.

Even him, blind in one bloody eye, could clearly read that his name wasn't even supposed to be Percy. It was PERRY.