"Ahh, Mr. Weasley, stay behind for a moment, won't you?" Professor Lupin's mild voice made Percy halt on his way out of Defense one afternoon.
The rest of the class trickled out, papers shuffling, feet scuffing on the floor and voices exchanging words that his ears did not catch. He'd just stood, about to grab the stack of papers and books that was atop his desk. He'd momentarily froze, but managed to recover and with a normal, happy smile, Percy approached the front of the room, hugging his belongings to his chest as if they were a protective shield between them.
"Professor Lupin," he went on to greet, respectfully because Perfect Prefect Percy was a respectful, considerate person. "What is it you need?"
He was cautious, suspicious, his mind wandering and wondering as to what he'd possibly done to warrant this.
Professor Lupin sat on the edge of the desk, shooting a smile to the last student-not including Percy-that was leaving. He then flicked his wand so the door would shut, it did, with a soft click.
Percy's heart sped up. The door was shut. It was...it was closed. Should he need to scream, no one would hear it. It was probably soundproof. Was there a spell for that? Did Professor Lupin know of such a thing and was planning on using it?
Merlin, was it becoming hotter?
"I thought we could use a bit of privacy," Professor Lupin said, breaking through the bubble of Percy's thoughts. "Would you care for some chocolate?"
He momentarily forgot how to speak. "Erm, what?" he finally spluttered out.
"Chocolate?" Professor Lupin repeated, kindly as he held up a square piece for Percy to see. Deliciously smooth, if a smidgen melty from where it had been on the desk and the sunlight had reached it. "I thought you might be hungry."
"No." Sweets sounded massively unappetizing. Then he realized how rude it must have come out-especially to a professor!- and he backtracked rather hastily. "I mean, no thank you, Professor."
A chuckle escaped from Professor Lupin's lips. Percy had the most distinctive feeling he was being laughed at. That's because you are. He's making fun of you. Everyone is. Don't you see it?
He is, isn't he?
"Alright, if you insist."
The chocolate was out of sight, his stomach could finally feel at ease. His gaze lingered straight ahead at nothing certain, only to be brought back to Professor Lupin once again. "Mr. Weasley, before I begin, I do want to apologize if I'm keeping you from your next class."
He didn't have another class until after lunch. Percy memorized his schedule; Wednesday's were his days where he had a free period after Defense. He looked forward to Wednesday's; it gave him a chance to decompress before going off to lunch. Wednesday, he could go back to his dorm, where it was empty because Wood was in class at that time and he could lay on his bed, arms around his knees, eyes closed and just breathe.
Percy liked Wednesdays.
But he didn't tell Professor Lupin that.
Because normal, happy people didn't need to do that.
"Oh, no, Sir. It's alright. I have a free period, you see," he explained swiftly.
"Ahh, brilliant!" Professor Lupin said, happily.
I suppose
"Erm, Professor?" Percy ventured to speak, albeit timidly. "Why did you want to see me?"
"Oh, just for a little chat, if you don't mind," He was flashed another smile. One that was seemingly attempting at being reassuring. But Percy didn't feel reassured. If anything, the worry that was swirling in his stomach felt worse.
"Okay," he murmured, faintly.
"You're Head-Boy this year, yes?"
Shouldn't he have known that? Was this some kind of test? Thoughts were running rampant through Percy's head, leaving him dangerously on the edge. What's he playing at? What does he want? I don't understand.
"Yes," But it came out more as a question. A sense of unsureness, as if he thought something bad would occur by affirming.
"Ah," Professor Lupin said. Just ah with a short head nod. "I can't say I was Head-Boy, myself, however, I was made prefect. And how is that going? Well, I hope."
Percy itched to bolt from the room. There was no way Professor Lupin intended on discussing just his Head-Boy responsibilities. There was some ulterior motive to it, that Percy couldn't seem to find at the moment. He'd heard-overheard-that as a student, Professor Lupin had been sorted into Gryffindor. That meant he'd had Professor McGonagall as his Head of House. Did she ask him to talk to Percy? In a way that would come off as less conspiratorial?
His throat tickled. He swallowed back the unpleasant sensation, clearing his throat. It sounded too loud, echoing off the walls in the enclosed room. Professor Lupin didn't seem to mind, merely waiting patiently. "Yes, Sir. It's fine."
You idiot
He's not going to believe you
No one who uses, "Fine" actually means it
Now he's going to be keeping an eye on you
Brilliant, just brilliant
His facial expression must have been one of discontent, one that Professor Lupin mistook as offense for the question asked. "Do forgive an old man for being nosy, Mr. Weasley," he winked. "I was simply curious, is all." he stretched his legs out, rising to his full height. "You may relax, you know. You aren't in any trouble. Not unless you've decided to join your brothers to charm my chair into singing every time I sit down." He smiled wryly.
He probably thinks you're like them
But I'm not
But he doesn't know that
He's new
He's not gonna know
Percy's mouth was opening and reopening, his brain racked terribly to find something appropriate to say. Was there such a thing? "I'm...I'm sorry, Professor. About my brothers. They're-"
His voice trailed off abruptly upon Professor Lupin holding up a hand for silence. "There's no need to apologize," he assured, gently. He spoke in a calming tone, that should have had an affect on Percy-positively, that is. Should have. But it didn't. "I had a couple friends back in my time as a student that held the same zest for life as your brothers. I assure you, whatever they have up their sleeve, I've seen it already."
He was smiling, reminiscing, the fond memories of his youth all coming back to him in that moment. Percy thought he could detect a trace of...sadness? Regret? Whatever it was, it vanished.
A frown came onto his lips, trying to make sense of the strange phenomenon.
It isn't any of your business
Is it?
Why do you always have to stick your nose into everything?
That's why people don't like you
You're nosy
And bossy
And a know-it-all
"Professor," Percy found his voice again. "Is that all you wanted? To ask about my Head-Boy responsibilities?"
Whatever had Professor Lupin lost within his own thoughts, gripped his thoughts so tightly that until Percy spoke, that hold would not be broken-was unknown. "Not really but I suppose I've kept you long enough, haven't I?"
He couldn't very well say what he was thinking; that indeed he was. He simply smiled rigidly. He was tired of smiling. It took much more effort and energy than he had. He wanted to stop.
"I-" Percy's eyes darted over to the door, where the shadows of students that were behind it caught his attention.
Professor Lupin saw them, too. His hands shoved themselves into the pockets of his robe. "You ought to go, Mr. Weasley. I shall see you around, yes?"
He didn't have to be told twice.
/
His bag was heavy, the weight resting on one shoulder; the strap was pulling down on it painfully. He wouldn't have been surprised to find an indentation from it later. All of his textbooks he'd need for his classes were in there. Percy shrugged that one shoulder for some brief relief. He'd worn the strap on the other side and switched off, now that dull ache was back. And the tower was far enough away that it felt much more like a never ending journey.
The chill of the breeze was soft against his cheeks, cooling them down. One half of his face was a mixture of a hue of orange and yellow; the sun was setting right about now. The general bustling of Hogwarts was starting to mellow out for the day, as the students settled down and relaxed.
He squinted his eyes as the light blinded his vision.
Percy used to like sunsets; he used to sit by the window of the Burrow to admire them, in awe of the magnificent colors and shapes of the clouds.
He used to like them.
But not anymore.
He thought back to that one evening in the library, back on the night of the first day, when he'd seen Ginny and she all but snubbed him. He'd recognized the look she gave him, the familiar mark of distaste of his presence that she found to be bothersome.
She didn't want to be around him.
None of his siblings did.
They seemed to despise him, unable to pretend that they didn't and tolerate him for even the briefest of seconds. And they just...didn't see a problem with it. Didn't pause to think of how he might feel.
Did they enjoy causing him that pain? That knowing feeling of how he was unwanted? Did they even know?
Of course they do
They think it's funny
That's why they do it
It's always fun to mess with Perfect Prefect Percy
It'd gotten to that point, that point where they would just blatantly avoid him, looking to be decidedly annoyed when he happened to be around and they couldn't get away.
If not that, then they would be filled with an undeniable need to seek him out for their own amusement. That was often left to the twins, or Ginny if she was caught in the midst of their schemes. As cowardly as it was, that was what Percy feared. Most especially while they were at Hogwarts.
In front of everyone else.
While he most certainly didn't condone them going off to antagonize any of the Slytherins, it came to it that sometimes that was what he wished for instead of him. Why couldn't they test out their new potion on Malfoy or throw a stinkbomb on Flint? Why must they seek Percy out again and again and again-
He shifted his bag onto the other shoulder.
"Come on, give it back!"
"Make me, Mudblood!"
The voices came a few feet ahead of Percy. At the end of the courtyard were two boys; one was from Hufflepuff, the other Slytherin. The Slytherin boy was bigger than the Hufflepuff boy and had charmed the boy's book to float mid-air as the other boy tried to jump in vain to catch it, but it just kept going higher and out of his reach.
Percy's throat tightened, eyes shutting as that unpleasant memory came back to him.
"Give me back my stuff, Flint!" Percy wished his voice would have changed by now, so he could sound more intimidating than his high-pitch, slightly squeaky voice was right now.
"Oh, you want it?" Flint sneered, his smile one of mockery. Percy's satchel was floating back and forth amid the corridor. He'd run one way at it and it would fly backwards. Eventually, he had to stop, panting for air, sweat beginning to form on his forehead.
"Please," Percy pleaded. "I don't want to be late! I'll do whatever you want. I won't tell Bill or Charlie, just please give it to me!"
"Hmm, let me think," Flint tapped his finger against his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. His face then contorted with a smirk. "Don't think so, Weasley. Not unless you'll tell me what Gryffindor's planning for the upcoming game."
Percy's eyes bulged. "What? I can't tell you that. Charlie'll kill me!"
Flint hummed. "You hear that?"
Percy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hear what?"
Flint put a hand behind his own ear. "Your things. What's that?" He leaned closer to the bag once he lavatated it down some, pretending that it was speaking to him. "Oh, sure."
"What?" Percy's uneasiness was growing more and more by the way Flint's smile had become predatory.
"It said it wants to go for a little swim."
A sense of franticness shot through him. "No!" he burst out. "No, no! Please, Flint, please! You can't! My papers are in there. I have a Potions essay due later; I can't go without it!"
"Then I suppose you don't have a choice," Flint said, slyly.
"Why do you care?" Percy asked in desperation. "You're not even on the team."
"Just sticking together with my housemates. Isn't that what Dumbledore wants?"
"Not by blackmail!"
Flint shrugged. "Should've been more specific, then. Now, what'll it be, Weasley?"
Gryffindor lost that match.
Painfully.
Charlie had been utterly stumped and Percy had been racked with guilt. The whole team and house had to deal with the Slytherin's constant jeering, with Flint occasionally meeting Percy's eye and smirking in satisfaction.
It made his stomach twist just thinking about it, despite being years ago.
"Please!" The Hufflepuff boy protested. "Give it back!"
"Why should I?"
Percy sped up his pace a little, inhaling slowly and preparing to interject as much authority as he could muster. "Excuse me!" he called. They turned; the Hufflepuff looked relieved but the Slytherin boy wasn't impressed.
Just eleven years old and already showing an attitude of a sixth year.
Fantastic.
The book fell to the floor with a loud thud.
He stopped in front of them, putting on an impassive expression as he made an attempt to stare the Slytherin down. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Socializing," the Slytherin quipped.
"Right. By messing with his things."
"He started it!"
"No, I didn't," the Hufflepuff quickly protested his innocence. He looked up at Percy, pointing an accusatory finger at the other boy. "He's been bothering me all day!"
"Is that true?" he said to the Slytherin in disapproval.
"Tattletale," the Slytherin hissed.
"He called me a Mudblood, too," the Hufflepuff added.
Alright
I can do this
He will listen
"What is your name?" Percy asked the Slytherin, firmly.
The boy, however, refused to say. He simply snorted, crossing his arms.
"You are not to use that word here. Do you understand? That will be fifty points from Slytherin and I will be reporting you to Professor Dumbledore."
"How're you gonna do that if you don't know my name?" The boy mocked.
The Hufflepuff jumped in, "It's Alfie Mcgregor."
"Snitch!" The Slytherin's wand was raised, literally ready to use on the other boy, luckily, Percy was faster than him and pointed his wand at the boy.
"That's another fifty points for attempting to attack a classmate! Would you like it to be another hundred?" Percy demanded.
The boy glowered at him.
"I suggest you take your attitude elsewhere and follow me to Professor Dumbledore's office. Both of you."
They were about to take off when a sulky voice drawled from behind them. "And just where are you taking my student, Mr. Weasley?"
The Hufflepuff groaned whilst the Slytherin smirked.
Percy felt that all too familiar feeling of dread and nervousness that came with being in close vicinity with Professor Snape. It was bad enough being in the classroom, with Professor Snape's eyes watching him closely like a predator ready to pounce on its prey at just the right moment. It was worse now, being out of the classroom and still coming across each other. He did his best to avoid the man; to duck his head if they happened to be passing by.
Now he could do no such thing. Not in the presence of the younger students, one of which needed his help.
He couldn't act like a coward.
"Professor," Percy greeted the man, far from amiable. Perhaps his reluctance wouldn't be that easily noticeable. "I was just about to take these boys to see Professor Dumbledore. It seems your student, Mr. Mcgregor, was harassing Mr-" he looked at the other boy questioningly.
"Wilbur Roberts," the Hufflepuff boy filled in for him.
"Yes, thank you. It seems that Mr. Mcgregor also referred to Mr. Roberts as a Mudblood."
There. Business-like and crisp. Not a hint of how intimidated he felt by Professor Snape was to be detected.
Professor Snape's calculating gaze flickered over to Mcgregor. It couldn't be said what the man might be thinking; he was hardly to be considered an open book. His lips were in a thin line, to be pursed the slightest bit. "I assume, Mr. Weasley, you took points away from Mr. Mcgregor?"
"Yes, Sir," he couldn't brush off that feeling of foreboding that came over him, by the way Professor Snape was speaking. One hundred."
"I see," Professor Snape said very softly. The feeling grew worse. "As it happens, I had forgotten to award Mr. Mcgregor his points in potions. That will be two hundred points for completing the assigned potion today."
Percy didn't have the energy, or the courage-Some Gryffindor you are-to argue about the verdict. A part of him was crushed that he'd been undermined. Another was unable to quite comprehend just how Professor Snape thought that was the appropriate action. He'd known the man to be unfair to anyone that wasn't of his house, but still.
Mcgregor was visibly smug with the outcome. "Thank you, Sir."
Roberts was gaping. Unlike Percy, he didn't refrain from vocalizing his thoughts on the matter. "Wha-that's not even fair!"
"Ten points from Hufflepuff for raising your voice at a teacher," Professor Snape snapped.
"But I didn't-"
"That will be another ten for continuing to argue with a teacher," Professor Snape smiled a very ugly smile.
"But I'm not arguing," Roberts objected, unknowingly making it worse for himself. He was merely a first year, so it was a forgivable offense-not to Professor Snape, however.
"Twenty points," Professor Snape snarled.
Roberts, wisely, backed down at that point.
And Percy chose then to step in. "Sir," he hoped he sounded as respectful as he tried. "I do think Mr. Roberts is right. needs to be punished-"
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape was, dare he make a presumption, enjoying the fact that he'd spoken up. "Unless you have forgotten, Mr. Weasley, you are merely Head-Boy. You are not a professor, nor the Headmaster so I do not believe you are in any way qualified to inform me of how to handle my students."
He was as flustered as he felt earlier in Potions class. The air became warmer, unreasonably so and he had to resist the urge to pull at the neckline of his uniform. The urge was inexplicable; he wanted to rip it off.
It was made worse by the way the two boys were looking at him. He didn't like it when people looked at him, because he couldn't figure out what they were thinking. It made him sweat. Must they look at him like that, like they were seeing through him?
Inhale
Exhale
He did so, regaining control on his breathing so he wouldn't end up hyperventilating.
Oh, Merlin, no
Not here
"I...I understand that. But Professor-"
"Ten points," Professor Snape said, sharply.
His stomach sank. The feeling was growing further intolerable. "If you'll let me-"
"Another ten. If you continue to speak out of line, I will personally run Gryffindor's points into the ground and you will have nothing. I'm sure your house would appreciate that, don't you think, Mr. Weasley?" Professor Snape's threat was clear.
Percy's mouth was dry and he was sure if his stomach could drop any lower, it'd be on the cobbled ground.
"Hmm," Professor Snape was giving him a once over, with something akin to amusement. "For once, a Gryffindor makes the right choice. If only the same could be said for Mr. Potter." Then, his head swiveled back to Mcgregor. "Come," he commanded, sharply. Mcgregor trailed behind him as professor Snape stalked away, his robes billowing from the breeze.
Look at you
Can't even discipline a student right
And you get points taken away
Such authority
They're probably laughing at you
No one will ever take you seriously now, not when you, yourself, don't get taken seriously by a professor
You're a failure
Everyone knows it
Perfect Prefect Percy can't be successful at anything
And everyone knows it
"Snape's a git," Roberts mumbled. Percy wasn't sure if that was meant more out of contempt or the boy's way of comforting him for being treated so awfully, or both.
He still wished he was closer to the tower, to his bed. He was just so tired.
"Well, thanks anyway," Roberts offered him that, at least, when he hadn't responded. "I know you would've done more if you could."
He's lying
He's just trying to make you feel better
He knows better
He knows what a failure you are
"Right," and inwardly, Percy despised how bland and monotonous his voice was to his own ears.
Roberts bent down to pick up his book, sighing. "He won't leave me alone," he told Percy, sounding worn from the situation.
Percy could sympathize.
He wished he didn't.
The boy appeared smaller than he seemed originally, the more he elaborated. The sadness, the helplessness, was there. It was eerily similar to seeing a younger version of himself. He didn't like that either. "I hate it. It's like he looks for me all the time."
Flint had done that. Sought him out just to bump into him, making his books and materials fly out onto the floor. To call out hey Weasley and leer at him. Or even toss a spell at him so his legs would be dancing uncontrollably or something equally as embarrassing.
"Probably does," Percy muttered and only then realized how unhelpful and unnecessary that was.
Some Head-Boy you are
Roberts made an unhappy noise. "He's been doing this since the train ride and it's unfair. I didn't mean to take his seat. It was an accident, honest."
Percy's hand found its way up to his collar, giving it a bit of an anxious tug.
Percy sat in the corner of the compartment he'd chosen, reading a rather large and thick book he'd borrowed from Bill. It was one of his textbooks, one Percy wouldn't need until fourth year but the material was intriguing, so he was using it to pass the time. He was so thoroughly engrossed that he hadn't heard the door open until it gave a click at the end.
His gaze wandered over to where the three boys were standing. He recognized one of those boys; he'd accidentally rammed into his trolley with his own. He instinctively recoiled. Those boys were bigger than he was and were all mean looking. He wished he was with Charlie or Bill. But they'd gone off to their separate ways. They had their friends and didn't want to be around an eleven year old.
Bill had punched him on the shoulder-it hurt, though the feeling had faded by now-and said that he'd be fine, before he then departed off.
Now he was alone.
And he wished he wasn't.
"Hello," Percy said, shyly. "Would...would you like to sit down?"
"W-w-would," one of the boys imitated him and the other two laughed uproariously. Percy didn't find it funny in the least. The first boy, the one who mocked him, came forward. "Get out."
"What?" Percy was taken aback.
"I said get out," the boy flexed his muscles. Probably to intimidate Percy. But he needn't do that. His face was enough. "You're in our compartment."
"But I was here first," Percy argued, weakly.
"Oooh," one of the other boys snickered. "Weasley's got guts."
He didn't know how they knew his name. Perhaps it was the hair.
"Get him, Flint!" the last boy said to the one in front of Percy-whose name was Flint, apparently.
"I think we should teach Weasley, here, a lesson," Flint grinned. "Don't you think?"
He ended up with his shirt pulled halfway over his head, blinding his vision and tripping as he tried to make his way down the corridor, his voice was muffled as he called out for his brothers.
Ever since than, Flint had made it his goal to antagonize him. Supposedly for stealing their compartment and for ramming into his trolley.
"Have you gone to Professor Sprout about this?" When he regained his bearings, remembering where he was, Percy asked the question.
The boy's swaying from side to side and his grimace told Percy the answer. "Well, no," he admitted. "Not really. I...I thought it would make it worse."
It might
The sun was nearly set by now and he still had a ways to go before he was back to Gryffindor Tower. He yearned for sleep. He was just so tired.
But he was overcome with a need to protect the boy, so small and reminiscent of himself at that age. It was beyond his responsibility and obligation as Head-Boy. Beyond rationality. Beyond any sort of reasonable thinking.
But he couldn't.
You're a fool
A bloody fool
How are you intending on helping the boy when you can't even help yourself?
He wanted to say he would help. That he'd be a mentor and look after Roberts. Not as an attempt at looking good in front of the professors or anyone else, not as a way of seeming more important than the rest. It was a genuine yearning. He'd known what it was like to feel helpless at the hands of someone else.
But you can't do anything
He won't even want your help
Not from Perfect Prefect Percy
His gaze broke from looking at Roberts' face and re-adjusted his bag. He swallowed, doing his best to give a smile as he pushed past the boy and went on his way.
He didn't miss the hurtful look that was on the boy's face.