You're a failure as head-Boy

Why did Professor McGonagall even appoint you when you can't even handle that?

Anybody else would have done better

He felt guilty.

There weren't enough synonyms within the English language to convey just how guilty he truly felt, or how it had been eating away at him ever since he'd walked away from Roberts in a moment of haste; overcome with dreadful memories of the past with a clear and an uncomfortable resemblance to the situation at hand now. Instead of rising to the occasion to take the boy under his wing for some level of comfort amid a new school and an unpleasant classmate who seemingly had it out for him for no viable reason, he ran.

He ran from it like the coward he was.

What had he been thinking? It hadn't been the time for him to indulge in the thoughts of self-pity, not when he was dealing with two students. He should have put it aside for the time being. It's what a good Head would have done. It's what Bill would have done.

Bill.

Percy had always idolized his older brother. It began as far back as his mind would allow him to recall, during which he would follow Bill around everywhere because all he wanted to do was be with him. His brother never complained, didn't regard him as a nuisance for never leaving him alone and having to be persuaded by their parents to go to his own room when it came time for bed.

Percy was the shy one of the family, especially now if he were to be compared to the twins or Ginny. When he was younger and a lot smaller, if they were out in public and he got nervous, he would hide behind Bill's long legs as if they were a safety shield and Bill was his protector.

He didn't treat Percy with the same roughness that Charlie possessed; he could switch the way he interacted with one in an instant, by participating in wrestling matches with Charlie and then turning around and becoming a lot more gentle when it came to Percy wanting to spend time with him. And to add to that, never once did he make a face-whether to show how bored he was or otherwise poke fun at him-or snicker not-so-discreetly behind his hand when Percy would unleash his vast knowledge of a subject all at once until he was forced to take in a deep breath. He just...understood Percy so well, unlike the rest of his siblings and took the time to know what made him happy, what made him sad and what he was passionate about.

And when he'd gone off to school, leaving Charlie and Percy at home with each other, along with Fred and George, who were not even five yet, the two of them mailed each other letters as often as they were able to. Bill's frequency in being able to write dwindled the farther he got into the school year, since his schedule was becoming filled with piles of homework and prioritizing his friends over his younger brother. It wasn't intentional; Bill hadn't been trying to hurt his feelings. But it did hurt. It'd hurt, regardless. Percy was just a child at the time and even he knew that an eleven year old wouldn't want to solely communicate with a six year old when he had other, better people to talk to.

And it wasn't that his love for Bill overrode his love for any of his other siblings, like Charlie. He did love him, too; even if their ideas for leisurely fun were wildly different. Percy was the only one willing to stand by and listen to Charlie talk at great length about the various magical creatures he found fascinating from the many books he could get his hands on.

Charlie cared about him as well. He cared about you. Past tense. But not anymore. That's why he never writes. He could distinctly remember a time when he'd been terrified of a thunderstorm that was going through England and he'd hidden himself away under his bed, clenching a stuffed hippogriff. His mum had tried her hardest to get him to come out, but he'd refused. His dad had been at work. Ultimately, it was Charlie who was able to do it. He crawled underneath, chatting so casually and was eventually able to coax him out with the promise that he could hang around him if he liked.

Percy had hesitantly agreed. For the duration of the storm, he clung to Charlie's side and while he was no Bill, he was able to provide some comfort. He read every book that Percy brought to him, keeping an arm wrapped around his younger brother until the howling wind, flashes of lightning and roaring thunder subsided. It was a rare display of love and affection between them two, since that sort of thing hardly ever happened and he made sure to mention it in the next letter to Bill.

He loved his brothers equally, but Bill had a special place in his heart.

He'd yearned to be just like him. But it wasn't all from some overzealous feeling of adoration or hero-worship. Rather, it came from years of observation. It had been plain to see how Bill's scholarly accomplishments brought their parents attention onto him. They were noticeably proud of him, utterly beaming and pulling him into tight embraces or clasping his shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

And he wanted that.

The desire was so heavy, just to feel a fraction of what they felt. He felt a great need to prove himself, more so to his family that he was capable of being so extraordinary. Bill was extraordinary and had set the path for his siblings to follow. Charlie was extraordinary in his own way-they all were.

Except for him.

It seemed the only logical thing to do was follow in Bill's footsteps in every which way he could. That meant coming as close as he could to his brother's maturity level, his marks in school and getting appointed Prefect and Head-Boy.

But that was back when he believed in himself, that he could do it.

Now he didn't even deserve it.

It'd felt good at first, getting recognized for what he was doing. He would straighten up his posture, puffing out his chest a little, smiling bashfully. It made him so good, like he was appreciated. The happiness could not be rivaled, not by anything. Nothing could have spoiled his mood, not even with a nasty remark from Flint or the twins.

But even good things eventually fade.

The comparisons had begun; an innocent comment from Great Aunt Muriel, or as innocent as it could be coming from her, came to the forefront of his mind. Even years later, he still remembered.

Great Aunt Muriel was over for a visit, a rather unexpected visit as she had popped in unannounced. Dad was all for sending her on her way or pretending they weren't home. But Mum thought it was a bad idea, so she said that Great Aunt Muriel was allowed to stay over for dinner. And now, after a couple hearty plates and a nice crumbly pie, they were settled in the living room, sleepy and Dad was showing great Aunt Muriel Percy's latest marks he'd received at the end of his first year.

Percy sat indian style on the floor, interested in hearing what Great Aunt Muriel would have to say. She was usually fairly critical-Mum was almost always on the receiving end of it. She was doing this wrong or could have done that better. But he'd done good, really good, in fact. Surely she was going to find fault there.

"And these," Dad handed her the parchment and she peered at it, her face scrunching up in concentration, making the wrinkles become more pronounced, "are Percy's marks. He's worked hard this year."

Percy sat up, glowing at the praise.

"I see," she hummed, lips pursed.

His smile waned.

"Well," she handed it back to Dad with a haughty sniff. "Certainly decent for a first year. Although I do believe William's marks were better when he was Percy's age."

"Not by much," Bill said, modestly.

That set off a whole discussion about his brother's earlier Hogwarts years, with Mum adding in how she couldn't believe he was almost ready to graduate by now. Charlie was chiming in, as well, "What am I, chopped liver?" And their younger siblings were full of energy as always, with Dad having to attempt at getting the twins to calm down after eating a couple helpings of dessert.

The evening passed on. The noise all blurred together, he couldn't have sorted out who said what if he needed to. After that, Percy didn't say much. He continued to sit, not offering much beyond an occasional half-smile.

He supposed it was inevitable, being one of seven children. There were going to be comparisons and maybe his parents hadn't meant for it to be taken in a bad way, in a way that suggested they were disappointed, but that was exactly how it came across.

He couldn't feel too proud of what he'd done. Even if to someone else it might be good. Not when they were comparing him to someone else or forgetting about him entirely. It wasn't fair. And it caused the slightest bit of resentment to cast towards Bill. He felt wrong about feeling that way; Bill was his brother and it wasn't his fault that people compared them. It wasn't as though he could do much to stop them.

But irrationality overrode him; Bill hadn't anyone to be compared to when he'd been younger. Whatever he did, it was the first. The first of many. So, naturally, it was usually good and appreciated as such.

But his wasn't.

Maybe if you were as good as Bill yours would be

You just aren't as extraordinary like Bill is

That's why they like him better

That's why everyone likes him better

He isn't boring

Unlike you

Unlike Perfect Prefect Pompous Percy

/

How was it possible to feel alone amongst a crowd of people?

Looking at it from a literal standpoint, it didn't make sense. Yet, somehow that didn't matter. Whether he was in the common room or in the Great Hall or outside or in a classroom, it didn't matter that it was full of fellow students and professors. It should have. He should have felt surrounded-in a good way and not as though he was suffocating-but he didn't because no matter the crowd or the location, Percy felt utterly alone.

He tried not to mind it often. There was no use in dwelling on it. Useless, really. What good would it do? It wouldn't bring him comfort or ease the ache in his chest. No, definitely not. It wouldn't. But sometimes...it got the best of him. He'd become wistful, eyes roving around the room and seeing friends or couples sitting together with bright smiles on their faces, laughing gaily at whatever amused them.

Percy wanted that.

He yearned for it.

But he knew he didn't deserve it.

Percy heaved a sigh, freezing when he heard two familiar voices. He hadn't even stepped inside the common room but they were undoubtedly clear.

It wasn't difficult, actually, being able to hear them. One would have had to be deaf not to hear them hurling insults and shouts at each other, so incredibly fast pace. Reminiscent of the times when he'd spied Flint and Wood doing the same to each other, only his brother and his friend were a bit cleaner than the blokes in his own year-although depending upon what exactly set him off, that couldn't always be said for Ron.

Percy mumbled the password and the portrait swung open, after giving him a gentle scolding to speak up and pronunciate next time, but otherwise let him through. He ducked his head down when a couple passed him by so as he wouldn't have made that fatal error of making eye contact and awkwardly looking away, but his head snapped back up when Ron's voice became sharper, louder.

Oh, no

Not again

His brother was shouting, not so much an irregular thing to come across, as he had plenty of arguments with the twins or Ginny during their time at the Burrow that led to him raising his voice. Percy rounded the corner, inwardly bracing himself for what was to come, and ending up face-to-face in the middle of Ron and Hermione's row.

Percy's heart was starting to beat faster as a result. He didn't like the loud noise. Arguments, genuine ones where feathers were ruffled and feelings got hurt, put him on edge. He fingered with his uniform, yanking a bit on his tie.

He was going to choke himself if he kept it up.

Then perhaps everyone will be happy

Ron's fists were clenched and his face matched the color of his hair-a recurring occurrence whenever something ticked him off. Hermione appeared to be equally as angry; her hands were firmly on her hips and her own face was contorted into a deep scowl. And as for Harry, he was off to the side, looking thoroughly unsure of what to do, but Percy gathered from the way he was acting, he wanted to stay out of it.

The common room was fairly empty, which couldn't all be attributed to students deciding to go to bed early. He suspected that most were simply trying to get away from the excessive noise level. Those that stayed around appeared to be displeased with the way the two third-years were behaving. A few rolled their eyes and he could practically see the gossip train beginning to set on the tracks.

This wouldn't be happening if you could get a handle on your own brother

But you can't even do that

Can you?

As Head-Boy, he was supposed to do so as to regain the natural order of things. It wouldn't do well for Professor McGonagall needing to be brought up there at this hour because he couldn't control the students, let alone his own brother and his friend. But Ron wasn't going to make any of this easy. He didn't like Percy getting involved with anything pertaining to his life. And while the twins showed their feelings through their pranks, Ron was much more verbal about how he felt and had referred to his older brother in passing conversation as being a pest.

It'd hurt.

It'd really hurt to know that he was a mere pest in the eyes of his brother.

Is that what they all thought of him? Once they'd grown older, had Charlie and Bill regarded him as an annoyance? Was that all that could be said about Percy Weasley, that he was just someone they had to put up with because they were related to him?

He didn't want to ask. He really, really didn't want to know the true answer.

Even though deep down, he knew he already did.

Perhaps he was being overly sensitive about the whole thing. You are. That's what he tried to reason himself with, to make sense of it so it didn't hurt as much. They all knew that Ron's temper flew easily. Sometimes it didn't take much to ignite. His brother didn't make it a habit of thinking before he spoke, inevitably leading to someone's feelings being hurt or a further explosion of anger. He didn't think about it until after it happened and he'd go back to sheepishly apologize. But that wasn't always a guarantee either, as he was horrifically stubborn and didn't like admitting to when he'd been wrong.

Oh, and you're such a saint, right?

No, no. I'm not

Saint Percy is a perfect prefect

Oh, how he hated that word.

Perfect.

With his mind coming back to it, Percy knew he really ought to be doing something right about now to diffuse the situation. Neither one of them were starting to settle down anytime soon, indicating that it was going to take someone else-him-getting involved to make it happen for them. Percy hadn't been able to decipher what had started it in the first place; nor had his brain the ability to distinguish what was being said. For all he knew, it was a bunch of gibberish that was going right over his head.

Do something!

Don't just stand there!

Stop being so utterly useless

No wonder no one likes you

But how was he to do it?

Swoop in and start taking charge of the situation? No. Ron would be furious at him for that, probably try to insist that it was all fine and that they didn't need him to intervene. Or should he approach the subject with caution, perhaps ask a question or two and then offer his assistance if the situation called for it? Even then, his brother might not be thrilled with him getting in the middle of it when it wasn't his argument. It seemed, really, that any outcome would lead to Ron getting fed up and aggravated with his presence.

But still he had to try.

"What's going on here?" Percy said, loudly to be heard over their bickering. Their heads turned in his direction, momentarily pausing and he stood in between them, looking at both of them with what he hoped was his best authoritative expression.

He pretended not to have heard Ron's groan. To have seen the utter displeasure that crossed his face, so reminiscent of that night in the library when he'd encountered Ginny. Or to see his posture slump a tad from the obvious frustration he was feeling. He pretended not to have seen any of that.

For a split second, his face faltered. That weight in his stomach was back. But he recovered, putting back on the perfect, suitable facial expression that was supposed to show how normal he was.

Except he wasn't.

And it was getting tougher, having to prove otherwise all the time.

"Well?" he said after neither of them said anything for an explanation.

Or had they?

Was he just so caught up in his own thoughts that he missed it?

They both began talking at once, one trying to overtalk the other, which made the other angrier and spoke louder as to be heard. It was quickly spiraling further downhill with little hope of stopping it peacefully.

"One at a time, please," he tried, but his voice trailed off when it became apparent neither of them were listening.

"Honestly, would it kill you to take some responsibility?" Hermione was seething.

"Me?" Ron snapped. "What about you?"

"Ron, Hermione, please. Shouting isn't going to help anything. Now why don't you both simply calm down and we'll-"

"This is all your fault, anyway," Ron accused.

"How is it my fault?" Hermione was scandalized.

"If you hadn't bought that dumb cat, Scabbers wouldn't be fearing for his life!" Ron's voice, which was undergoing puberty, hit a particularly high note upon him saying the last word and he flushed somewhat.

Hermione rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"Would someone tell me what is going on?" Percy found his voice again. He looked at Hermione, knowing he would get no answers from his brother. "Why is Scabbers fearing for his life?"

"He's not," Hermione said, sharply. "Ron's just exaggerating."

"I am not!" came Ron's protest. "Course you think that, it's not your pet that's being chased."

"You act as though he's going to die."

"He might! Not like you're doing much about it."

"Because it's not that big of a deal! They're animals, Ron. It's not unusual for this to happen."

Percy nearly groaned this time.

"Both of you calm down, please."

"Calm down?" Ron echoed in disbelief. "What're you talking about? Scabbers was your pet, too. Don't you even care? Or what, you think you're all great now that you have an owl?"

That hurt.

His brother was making unfounded speculations. In no such way did he think that. But then again, his siblings would believe what they wanted to believe. Evidence or no evidence. In a way, a resigned sort of way, he'd grown used to it.

He wished he didn't.

"Of course not," Percy said, calmly and perhaps tiredly as well. "But it'll do no one any good to yell."

Ron scoffed quietly.

"Now could one of you please tell me what is going on one at a time?" Percy yet again pretended not to have seen how his brother rolled his eyes. It was just another blow.

He's always doing that

Why does he have to do that?

He glanced over in Ron's direction.

He doesn't care about you

You're just a pest

Remember?

A perfect little pest

It was Hermione who spoke up on behalf of the both of them, matter-of-factly. "Ron's upset because Crookshanks is trying to play with Scabbers."

"Play?" Ron yelped. "The bloody thing keeps chasing him."

"It's not his fault!" Hermione argued, looking to be flustered. "It's in his instincts to hunt."

"Oh, yeah? Well tell him to hunt something else."

"You're ridiculous!" Hermione snapped.

"Me?"

"Erm, right," Percy said, clumsily trying to make his tongue work. "I take it Crookshanks is your cat?"

Stupid question

Of course it is!

"Obviously," Ron muttered under his breath, which Percy reckoned he wasn't supposed to hear.

But he did.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed and it seemed that she hadn't paused in regards to his absurd question. "Ron just doesn't get it. Cats prey on animals such as birds and rats. It's nothing unusual."

"You're mental," Ron scowled. "Just mental. That cat's been after Scabbers since the train ride! He won't leave him alone!"

"It's not his fault!" Hermione repeated, a bit shrilly if Percy was being honest. "I told you, it's his natural instincts! What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Get rid of him, for starters," Ron snapped.

Percy momentarily shut his eyes.

All this shouting was giving him a headache.

He just wanted to flop down on his bed and go to sleep.

"I will do no such thing! It's not his fault that you can't take responsibility for your rat. Honestly, Ron, if it bothers you that much then you should consider leaving Scabbers in your room instead of letting him roam around freely!"

Percy privately agreed. Ron hadn't been the happiest upon finding out that he was to inherit Scabbers after Percy was given the chance to buy his own owl. The rat had been passed down for years now but no one particularly liked him. His brother was wanting his own owl, too and was put off when their mum said they couldn't afford two of them. Naturally, he'd taken to shifting his feelings on the matter onto Percy, blaming him for the whole thing.

And perhaps he was partly to blame. He hadn't wanted to accept it at first, wanting to believe that Ron was mistaken. But maybe he wasn't. He didn't really need the owl; the school had perfectly capable owls if he ever needed to send a letter. Not to mention, the family had Errol for him to use when he was home. He didn't need one all for himself.

So, maybe Ron's feelings were valid and not just out of jealousy.

Still, even with that in mind, Ron tended to be a tiny bit irresponsible with Scabbers at times. Not always paying the proper amount of attention that he should have paid to him, forgetting on occasion to feed him or losing him like the Longbottom boy had done numerous times with his toad as a first year. But he couldn't very well say that. Even with a mild voice and no judgement to him. That would've made his brother explode.

I think he's already exploding

"Why should I? Why not take responsibility for that?" Ron gestured wildly to Crookshanks, whom had jumped up into Hermione's arms. The feline and Ron seemed to share a mutual dislike of one another. Crookshanks almost appeared to be glaring at his brother. It might have been amusing, if the circumstances were different, that is. "Bloody evil thing, he is."

"He is not!" Hermione shrieked. The students nearby covered their ears and Harry grimaced. Percy thought it sounded scarily familiar to how Ginny had wailed as an infant. But now was not the appropriate time to make that comparison. "He's a cat, Ron."

"So?"

"So," she echoed, snappishly, as if she did not understand why he'd said what he did, "he's not done anything to you. And besides, I didn't think you even cared about your rat."

Ron's face went redder and so did his ears, which indicated that he was going to blow up further if Percy didn't step in and do something about it.

But he doesn't want you to

But I must. It's my job

Why? Trying to show off, aren't you?

No one cares if it's your job

Because no one respects you

"Be that as it may," Percy interjected, effectively grabbing hold of their attention, and he wished his tone hadn't sounded as haughtily as it did, "you two are not permitted to take out your frustrations on each other in the middle of the common room." Ron did not look any better. Hermione looked a bit crushed at being reprimanded by Percy. "Now, I'm not going to take points off but I will next time if this behavior continues. Understood?"

"Yes," Hermione responded immediately.

Ron grumbled.

"Now as for your situation," he continued and hoped that he sounded softer this time, "you both can take responsibility for your pets. Yes? Ron, I do have to agree that you could keep Scabbers in the dorm. It wouldn't hurt-"

"Why are you on her side?" Ron cut him off, yelling once again. Percy had failed yet again to keep a handle on things.

Because you're a failure

You don't know what you're doing

"I'm not on anyone's side," Percy said, calmly, even though on the inside his stomach was churning again. He wanted to run, get away from this whole thing and lock himself in the safety of his dorm. He wished he never came into the tower. A few prying eyes came his way and he could only imagine what they must be thinking. "I was about to say that Hermione should keep a hold on Crookshanks as well to ensure that he isn't going to potentially bother someone else's pet either," he finished, matter-of-factly.

It took a moment for Hermione to come out with a coherent sentence. It was clear that she didn't take well to being called out by Percy, as they had usually gotten along decently enough. Never to the point that it could be stated as them being actual friends, but she was respectful of him and vice versa. It was less awkward to talk to her, as they had many of the same goals and ideals, academically speaking.

"Crookshanks isn't bothering anyone," she protested.

"He is, too!" Ron insisted, talking right over her. "Little git of a cat, he is."

Hermione bristled, thoroughly offended by his words. "I don't go around insulting your rat so don't do it to my cat!"

"I wouldn't if it wasn't so evil," Ron scowled at the feline. "Admit it, Hermione, there's something wrong with that thing. It's not normal."

"He, Ron. He. Not it."

Ron grumbled. "Well, Harry agrees with me. Don't you, Harry?"

Harry obviously didn't want to get dragged into it. He rubbed his forearm. "Well-"

"Actually, Ron. I think Harry will agree with me that you need to take better care of your rat," Hermione said, hotly. "Don't you, Harry?"

"No, he doesn't!"

"You can't speak for him!"

"He's my best mate! I know him better than you do!"

"Oh, that's a lie."

Percy glanced between them warily and then to Harry. The boy was seemingly internally deliberating on how to approach this as carefully as possible, as to appease both of them.

"Well," Harry repeated, slowly as a hand came up to scratch his neck, "Ron's not wrong, exactly..."

That was the wrong move to make.

Percy saw how the flash of surprise and hurt came across the girl's face; she'd evidently expected Harry to take her side and when he hadn't, she stiffened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just-"

"Why do I have to take responsibility for Crookshanks but Ron doesn't have to for Scabbers?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, I-"

"That's hardly fair!" The girl was getting more worked up, torn by her unresolved feelings for this situation and newfound betrayal with Harry.

"Would you just let me-"

"I can't believe you would agree with him!"

"Hermione," Percy said, hastily. "Perhaps it would be best if this was taken elsewhere. We really shouldn't be disturbing the peace-"

Hermione huffed, turning abruptly on her heel and stormed out of the common room and up the stairs, on the way to her own dormitory. She didn't stick around to listen to Percy and didn't see the way his face just dropped in a helpless way.

Harry's eyes darted from the staircase and back to Percy and Ron. He stood there for a moment further, silent and still. Before long, he sighed, motioning with his hand. "Come on, Ron," he mumbled. Percy assumed the boy meant that they were going to their own dorm as well.

But Ron didn't want to leave just yet. He was still fuming about the situation and his anger settled on Percy now that Hermione was out of the picture. "You didn't have to agree with her!"

You can't do anything right, can you?

He hates you

You know he does

"Ron-" Percy tried to get a word in.

"Why can't you just butt out!" Ron snapped. Harry looked uncomfortable again to be in the same vicinity as this was going on. "You don't even care about Scabbers anymore!"

"I already told you that isn't true," Percy said, weakly.

"Bollocks," Ron said, hotly. "If you really cared about him, you'd tell Hermione to keep that...that thing away from him. Guess we know where your priorities are. Come on, Harry. Let's go to bed." He started to walk away without waiting for Harry.

Harry glanced at Ron, then back at Percy and eventually made up his mind to follow his best mate up to their dorm. Percy didn't quite know what fire was lit up inside him, but he ignored every single instinct and voice within him, going after his little brother determinedly.

He was going to follow up by reiterating how his brother needed to be less harsh with his words and reining in his anger would solve the problems better than exploding. But he never had the chance to say any of that; he stayed a little ways away, while Ron was venting to Harry.

About Percy.

His back was turned so he didn't see his older brother standing there. "They're mental, the both of them!" Ron ranted, moving his arms all about. "Don't know why he has to always get in the middle of everything."

"It wasn't that bad," Harry shrugged.

"Says you. You don't live with him, be glad you don't. He's a right menace."

A menace. Percy swallowed. That's what he thought of him? A menace?

He wasn't that bad.

He couldn't be.

And even with those harsh words, his brother wasn't finished yet. "Especially since he was made Prefect and Head-Boy. Right git, I'm telling you. And Mum and Dad make it worse," he adapted a high pitch tone, "Percy this and Percy that. It's really annoying. I think Mum wants us to be Prefects and Heads, too." At this, Ron snorted. "Can't see Fred or George doing it. McGonagall would let Snape take the cup before that happens."

They laughed over that. Then Harry had a question.

"Say, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Has Percy always been...annoying like you say?"

"Oh, yeah," Ron, unbeknownst to Percy, rolled his eyes. "Pretty much. He was alright, I guess, when we were kids, but ever since he left for Hogwarts he's been a real prat."

He thinks you're a prat

He thinks you're annoying

He doesn't think Bill or Charlie or the twins or even Ginny is as annoying as you are

It's just you

Only you

Harry's next words struck Percy just as deeply. "Suppose he is a bit stuck up."

"A bit?" Ron's tone conveyed his amusement and disbelief at how Harry was seemingly downplaying it. "Should have seen him at Christmas during his fourth year. He spent all day in his room and Mum had to force him to come downstairs to open gifts with us. Mum cried and Dad had to calm her down."

He felt a pang.

Percy remembered that year. It was another difficult one. With bullies like Flint hot on his tail, countless sleepless nights where he stayed up well past midnight with a silencing charm to ensure that Wood wasn't going to catch him in the act and having to deal with the twins' erratic presence made it all the more challenging to deal with. That Christmas, he went home like he was supposed to, except, unlike everyone else, he didn't feel the slightest bit happy or remotely cheerful like one should during the holidays.

He'd just felt sort of...bland. Numb, even. No matter what he did-listen to a soft holiday tune, watch the snow steadily fall, nothing. Nothing worked. Nothing made it better. A growing suspicion within him told Percy that it was glaringly obvious he was the only one out of the entire Hogwarts population and his own family that was gloomy during what was supposed to be a wonderful, happy occasion.

So, he did what he felt was best.

He hid. It made sense at the time. He thought he was doing the right thing, a favor for the rest of the family by keeping it away from everyone else. It was his burden, his struggle, not theirs. And beyond that, they wouldn't have understood what the problem was and he wouldn't have been able to properly explain what it was.

He should have been happy. It was a lovely occasion. Yet, why was he adamant on being miserable and staying cooped up in his bedroom all by himself? That's what they would wonder. That's what they would ask him, all the while shaking their heads and believing him to be dramatic when that was not even close to the real reason.

In a sense, Ron's words were true; he had spent all of what he could in the solitude of his room, curled up on his bed, gripping the pillow and hearing the peels of cheerful laughter erupting from his siblings and wishing nothing more than for wanting to join in. To feel even a fraction of what they felt.

He left the room for meals, where he sat at the table amid the day's excitement and chatter, with his parents' eyes boring into him. They wanted to have a word with him, he was sure, inquire as to why he was hiding instead of spending the day with them before they were all due back at school. Truth be told, he didn't think they'd notice his absence. It sure didn't seem like his siblings did; they didn't say anything to him or so much as glance in his direction.

That year, they waited until the afternoon to open and exchange gifts. Percy wanted nothing to do with it, but his Mum had forced him to participate. She just about had it with his reclusiveness, her face going redder and redder by the minute and she pointed in the direction of the stairs, signaling that he ought to go down now. And he did. He went down there and sat down as far away as he could from everyone else while still being in the acceptable distance. They all heard their Mum raise her voice at him and stared as he entered the room. Contrary to what he thought would happen, they didn't touch on it. Perhaps they were growing terribly impatient and the temptation of the presents was becoming too much for them or they feared their parents would take them away if they did. So they said nothing and Percy's strange disobedience was soon forgotten.

Later that night, however, he did hear her crying to their Dad.

He had crept out of his room for a glass of water. He went back up the stairs and the sound of his Mum met his ears. He ended up standing just outside their door, his ear pressed against the oak, listening to how dreadful she sounded.

"I don't understand, Arthur," his Mum cried. "It's...it's like he wants nothing to do with us!"

Percy's stomach dropped. That wasn't it at all.

"There, there, Molly," his Dad was doing his best to console her. "I'm sure it isn't that. Well, you know, Percy. He's probably busy studying or something like that. I'm sure he isn't trying to upset you, Dear."

Studying.

That night, after admittedly eavesdropping on his parents, Percy sat on his bed with a frown on his face. Studying. Studying. His dad thought he would be studying rather than spend quality time with his family? It was said so casually, so knowingly. Like it was widely known that Percy adored his education so much that he wouldn't hesitate to shove everything else aside for some points on an essay.

That hurt.

That really hurt.

"Wow," Harry said in reference to Ron's earlier words.

"I swear none of us know how he's related to us when he's so...different," Ron has quite the distaste for the word, for different. "Fred said he's waiting for Mum and Dad to tell us he's adopted. Least it'll make some sense, then."

"Right," Harry said and they both left at that time, the subject changing on from Percy to Quidditch and how Wood was training them even harder this year.

As for Percy, he stayed where he was, absorbing his brother's words.