Percy was eating.

Well, that was a bit too generous to say; he wasn't actively doing it, as his hunger these days wasn't up to the standards that a boy of his age should be. More often than not, a miniscule amount was enough to suffice whereas a regular portion was far too much and he would end up cradling his aching stomach for ages. As of right now, surrounded by his housemates and the magnitude of other fellow students during their scheduled dinner hour, he was alone. This was not out of the ordinary, as if things could have been any other way. As always, he was minding his own business, keeping his gaze firmly on his food below him, staring into the bowl of stew absentmindedly. When the spoon held a mouthful of gravy, he toppled it over on it's side instead of swallowing it, watching as the liquid fell back down onto the bowl.

It had been another relatively uneventful day. Another day to count off where he had followed his ever so perfected routine to a tee right down to the very minute. To an outsider, one might have regarded Percy as a boorish perfectionist, the kind whose deepest fear was failure or a lack of punctuality.

(And they would get half of that correct; failure didn't bode well with him, especially with how much of a failure he truly felt he was).

They wouldn't get it all right, however. He was more than that. More than what they all thought of him. Underneath those misconceptions, there was something more. But even Percy didn't know what lay under there, not after such a number of years of opposition he faced.

From your own family

Remember that?

He tried not to. It was better that way.

What, can't take it knowing that everyone else just tolerates you?

Does it hurt?

Does it make poor little Prefect Percy cry?

He ate some of the stew, a real bite, in fact. Its taste was not good, even being handled in the care of the House Elves. Their preparation was to be praised any other time, but now, with it still being held in his mouth when all he really wanted to do was spit it out, that nausea returned. As it usually did. Couldn't have been normal, not for an average person to feel for the umpteenth time.

But when was anything about Percy Weasley normal?

Across the room, just before the Hufflepuff table, was Ravenclaw. From where he sat, Percy was able to get a clear view of Ivan and Penny sitting beside each other, subtly observing his ex-girlfriend's precise movements as she buttered up a roll, simultaneously glancing down at a parchment that she was being shown. It was highly doubtful it had anything to do with him all, most likely to be for petrol or specifically related to their House; but that hadn't stopped him from assuming the worst. From fretting on various possibilities of why they must be talking about him. Perhaps the parchment detailed some fault of his that Ivan felt the need to share.

Like the discussion from that afternoon.

Percy wanted to obliviate himself so he never had to recall the words, the facial expressions, the-anything ever again. It would be easier, merciful.

Lunchtime had just ended. Students were throwing their book bags over their shoulders, piling out of the room and grumbling about still needing to attend the rest of their classes for the day (Professor Snape's name was thrown around several times by displeased students, adding on their own experiences with the dour professor). Percy was the last one from the Gryffindor table to leave, until the gathering crowd would thin out some. He didn't want to get caught in the midst of things, where he would be squished in between people, potentially stepping on the back of someone's shoe or if they halted abruptly, he would hit them from behind.

It happened on another occasion.

He'd been mortified when that person turned around to briefly glare at him, their face not softening when he hastily, repeatedly apologized.

He was adamant that it was going to happen again. So, he stayed behind until he deemed it safe to go.

But today, it turned out to be unsafe either way.

Ivan came out of nowhere. That was another habit of his. He could be exceptionally quiet, sneaking up on people easily. Percy's heart practically stopped when the Prefect's dark hair came into view. He'd been smiling that easy-going smile he was known for. Percy had side-eyed him, unable to shove off the nagging suspicion that crept up, that had him fretting over what he could want. The next Prefect and Head meeting wasn't for another three days...unless he'd forgotten?

Horror flooded his veins, stomach dropping all the way to the floor.

Had he forgotten? Was Ivan coming to inform him of what he missed, most likely going to ask if he was okay because Percy must have had a good reason for not attending because he wasn't typically tardy for no reason?

No.

That hadn't been it.

Percy wished it was. The actual reasoning behind Ivan's appearance was something else far more dreadful.

"Hi, Percy," Ivan greeted him, amiably as he fell into step with him. "How's it going?"

"Hello," Percy's smile was weak. Not at all normal like it should have been. "It's, erm, it's going fine. How about you?"

He asked because that was what social people were supposed to do. They were to ask questions to show that they were interested.

But he wasn't interested.

He just wanted to leave without being perceived as rude.

"That's good," Ivan said, continuing their small talk. He fingered his blue tie, a full minute passing until he said something else. "Say, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Percy pretended that his insides weren't coiling. He remained pleasant on the outside. "What about?"

They were out of the Great hall, trailing down the corridor at the end of the thick crowd ahead of them. The space around them was primarily vacant. He should have been relaxed, but how he could he when Ivan approached him like that, so careful and cautiously? As if he didn't want to be there but felt he ought to be.

See, he doesn't like you either

He wishes he didn't have to be around you

You bother everyone

Why don't you just end it all and make everyone happy?

It wasn't a regular occurrence that Ivan should be struck with the inability to produce coherent sentences. But right now, out of his peripheral, Percy saw how he was struggling to spit out whatever it was that he felt was urgent enough to seek Percy out. With no remorse, Percy privately hoped that Ivan would just give up and leave him alone.

"Well," Ivan began with hesitance and Percy braced himself, "I was...Percy, I heard about the other day. About Mcgregor and Roberts."

"Oh?" Percy said, faintly. He really didn't want to know where this was heading to.

He never anticipated on word getting out-stupid of him, really. Mcgregor must have done it, bragging to the other Slytherins about how Professor Snape got him out of trouble, rewarding him with points after Percy had just taken them away.

"Yeah," Ivan was uncomfortable as well. "Simon's a bit peeved . He doesn't, er...he's not happy with how you handled it."

Ivan just shot it out there quickly, just to get it over with.

The shame that Percy was intense. No other fellow Prefect or Head had ever complained with how he'd dealt with things before. He couldn't speak. Should he defend himself or admit that it hadn't been his best day?

And the complaint just had to come from Simon. Somehow, he wished it was Farley that said it. She had something to say about everyone. Simon Dedworth was Hufflepuff Prefect. A seventh year just like Percy. He never spoke against anybody. Truly one of the kindest students in Hogwarts. Though, one thing was for certain and that was that Simon was protective over his puffs. A trait signifying his belonging to Hufflepuff house, but Percy couldn't believe that he'd actually upset the bloke. He was never upset.

Until now.

All because of Percy.

He wondered how Simon came to know about it. Mcgregor had walked away with his Head of House, so he couldn't have known what Percy said to Roberts. He summed it up to Roberts having confided in Simon, selfishly wishing that the boy had kept it to himself.

So Ivan didn't have to look at him like that, so awkwardly and unsure.

So Percy didn't feel a profound longing for the floor to swallow him whole.

"Oh," Percy repeated.

Ivan continued, swinging his arms, for they were still moving through the castle. Percy was wanting to get to his next class already but the school seemed to stretch wider, giving Ivan more time to...talk.

"Roberts told Simon you just, er, left him there after Snape showed up."

When he said it like that, it really sounded like Percy had done wrong.

Then Percy said the absolute worst thing he could've said.

"I was tired," he blurted out, the realization only registering seconds later, but by then he was unable to take it back. Ivan seemed momentarily surprised by the confession. "I...I mean...that, erm-"

"Right," Ivan probably knew what Percy was going to say, that he hadn't meant to say that-and he hadn't.

They'd stopped in the middle of the corridor. Percy's ears were on overdrive as they tried to be on the lookout for any professors in case they could overhear this.

"Well, er, you can't just abandon a student like that. I get it that you're tired, we all are. It's just..." Ivan ran a hand through his hair.

"I know," Percy muttered. "I'm sorry."

They lapsed into silence.

"Look, Percy, if you need to, you can take a break for a bit. Penny can handle everything or we can appoint someone else if that's what you want," Ivan said, kindly. But it hardly felt kind. It was a figurative slap in the face. He wasn't merely concerned about Percy's wellbeing; this was just an excuse. He wanted Percy to step down and this was how he was going to go about it so he could, all while concealing his true feelings under a poor façade.

Percy wasn't fooled.

Although, he wished he was.

"That won't be necessary," Percy said, his lips thin.

"If you're sure-"

"I am," he said and that was the end of the discussion.

It was an embarrassing experience, getting scolded like that-because that's what it was, basically, wasn't it? He never...perhaps he should have...He didn't even know anymore.

Except for how tired he was. He was just so tired.

It was just another slap of reality to show Percy how unqualified he was for Head-Boy, when he couldn't properly deal with a situation that they were trained on as Prefects. The older students who trained him and those that were also present had thought well of him. One had remarked that he was brilliant as a leader. The person certainly wouldn't be saying that now.

Especially considering how he'd failed in keeping his siblings safe the past couple of years. For the past two years, Ron had wound up in the hospital wing after following Harry and Hermione into situations that were not for them to get caught up in at their age. He should have known something was up, with the way those three were often secretive. And Ginny; Percy felt worse about that one because even though he tried to help her by forcing her to take a PepperUp Potion, he still missed it, the signs. Never had it occurred to him what was going on inside of her, something much more sinister than he ever imagined.

He was their big brother, he was supposed to keep them safe when Bill or Charlie or their parents weren't around. What a muck of things he made. His parents had to have known, especially after last year.

They had to.

Percy was so engrossed in his own musings that he didn't see Ron coming over to him, not until he peered up at the deeply scowling face of his younger brother. Percy clumsily dropped his spoon. "Yes?" he said, slowly.

His brother didn't waste any time in letting Percy know what was bothering him. "Why did you tell Mum and Dad?" Ron snapped at him and a few people nearby looked their way.

Percy flushed under the attention. "Excuse me?" He said, warily. He wasn't understanding-tell them what, exactly?

"Don't play daft, you know what I'm talking about!"

He didn't. But judging by the anger Ron was exhibiting, it wasn't good.

"Ron," Percy took a deep breath, speaking as patiently as he could. "I really don't know what you're talking about. If you'll explain, perhaps we can figure this out."

That was when his brother exploded.

"You told Mum and Dad about my T in charms!"

Percy stared at his younger brother, gobsmacked. He most certainly had not. For one, he hadn't written a single letter since their arrival and anyway, he wouldn't be tattling to his parents about his siblings' abysmal grades, even if he did care. They would hate him exponentially more. He couldn't even figure out how Ron would think he had come to find out. Grades were kept secret for privacy reasons; he wouldn't have been able to simply ask for Ron's marks and be given them.

However, Ron seemed to believe so.

"Ron," Percy was frowning, pushing aside the hurt he felt at knowing that his brother believed that he would do such a thing. "I swear to you I haven't. I wasn't even aware that you had a T in charms."

"Oh, come off it! You did and now Mum's furious, says she might not let Harry come over next summer if I don't improve!" Ron hadn't taken well to that news, evidentially and was currently huffing out air from his nose sharply like a wild animal.

"Ron, you've got to believe me," Percy felt desperate. He needed Ron to know, wanted him to get that he hadn't told their parents because he was just as how his siblings thought of him: stuffy, a know it all, boring, a git. "Please-"

"You're always doing this," Ron's volume increased as he cut Percy off, uncaring that he was attracting the other students into their personal affair. "Can't just stay out of anything, can you?"

"I wasn't in the middle of anything!"

Hermione came into Percy's vision, grabbing hold of his brother by the sleeve of Ron's uniform. As it appeared, they were on speaking terms again; the three of them-Ron, Hermione, Harry-had walked to their classes earlier with Harry in the middle. That was wise, could act as an interference to any arguments that could brew. "Ron, this isn't the time," the girl hissed. "You're making a scene."

Ron yanked his arm away. "Percy shouldn't have told Mum and Dad," he turned back to Percy. "I'll get it up, you know. Just a couple bad essay scores-" At that, Hermione opened her mouth to refute his claim, saying that it was more than merely a couple. "Didn't mean you have to go telling on me. Just because my marks aren't as high as yours doesn't mean you need to keep butting in. This is why Ginny hates you being around, you know. Always in our business for no reason. Don't you have anything better to do?"

His words cut Percy like a knife.

"Ron!" Hermione was scandalized. "How can you say that to your own brother?"

But Ron ignored her.

It took Percy a moment or so to compose himself, to keep his bottom lip from wobbling any more than it was and to force the lump that formed in his throat away. "Ron," he cleared his throat, speaking quietly, "I believe it's entirely possible that Mum and Dad found out because Professor Flitwick might have told them. Have you considered that possibility?"

Ron scoffed and it gave Percy his answer.

"Percy might be right, Ron," Hermione said, interjecting herself back into the conversation, albeit a little bit of what others saw as a know-it-all attitude coming through. "Think about it; Professor Flitwick has been after you for your handwriting and your lack of articulation in your essays. He obviously felt the need to write to your parents to get this under control before exams."

Ron was still glaring at Percy. He didn't want to accept that he might have been wrong about his accusation.

Harry's voice reached Percy's ears, murmuring. "Maybe we shouldn't have put those essays off..."

"No, you shouldn't have," Hermione said, disapprovingly. "Harry's lucky, but you really need to start putting more effort into your work."

Well, that just set Ron in a foul mood. It wasn't the time to lecture, Percy inwardly winced at the damage the girl was unknowingly doing. His brother did not appreciate being nagged at-which, Percy, himself, was guilty of doing- and would do nothing to improve his study habits or participation.

"Fine," Ron spared him one more glance, then stalked back to where he'd been sitting. Hermione was still standing, crossing her arms.

"Aren't you going to apologize to Percy?"

Ron groaned.

"Why? He'll probably end up doing it some other time."

Hermione's hands flew to her hips. "Ron," she admonished, "you can't falsely accuse someone without even saying you're sorry!"

"Fine!" Ron turned in Percy's direction, "Sorry." It was said with absolutely no sincerity in his brother's voice whatsoever, just said so Hermione would stop bothering him about it.

Ron might as well have said nothing at all. Percy would have wanted that.

Percy sighed. He couldn't wait until it was acceptable to get up and-

Splat!

Droplets of the gravy from Percy's stew splattered onto his face. With a napkin, he wiped them away, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he picked up a bright blue marble from the bowl. What on earth?

He eyed the strange object with scrutiny, holding it up to the light. He didn't see where it came from, but it had to have been close. Even with a good aim, no Slytherin would have been able to throw it that far. It did little to comfort his nerves, though, as he was still unaware of the thrower's identity. However, he wasn't given much more time after this to react, for seconds later, it exploded right in his hand. A couple of students shrieked, startled by the noise. He vaguely heard Professor Dumbledore ordering the hall to calm itself, whilst he was swooshing his arms around to clear the suffocating smoke that surrounded him, seemingly bound to him. He coughed, suppressing it so he didn't sound as though he were choking. He stood up rather fast, clenching a hand to his chest. He inhaled and exhaled the slowest he could; the smoke cleared away and he gazed down at himself, sighing in utmost relief at seeing nothing out of the ordinary with his appearance.

Or, so he thought.

That feeling went away when most of the Hall erupted into cruel laughter and it met his ears.

Awful, terrible, horrifying laughter.

At his expense.

And it wasn't just a few students. It was multiple people. A number from all of the houses. They all pointed and tittered and whispers erupted and it was all directed at Percy. He was flustered, he didn't understand what they found to be so humorous, or why Fred and George seemed so proud of themselves.

They had something to do with it, that voice in Percy's mind whispered.

Oh, Merlin, no.

No, no, no!

This was his worst nightmare come a reality. He...panic was quickly building up inside of him, wrapping itself around his throat, constricting him. He could do nothing except stare back at the hall with a parted mouth and semi-wide eyes. He felt a great urge to run, run now but his feet would not carry him to those large wooden doors, they stayed firmly planted where they were. His stupefied gaze flickered back to the Ravenclaw where Ivan and Penny were; they weren't laughing, but Penny's face reflected soft pity and Ivan was looking away, a faint blush on his cheeks from Percy could detect.

That was puzzling.

"Percy-" Hermione was covering her mouth, embarrassment clouding her features as she gestured hopelessly. Beside her, Harry was staring Percy with an unreadable expression, though once or twice, he exchanged a look with Ron.

"What?" he was afraid to know the answer. "What is it?"

He jerked in alarm when Fred and George appeared at his side, instinctively tensing up. "Like our little invention?" Fred grinned, throwing an arm around Percy's shoulder.

"Didn't really mean for you to get it, though."

"We were aiming for McLaggen-" The Gryffindor in question, of whom was amongst the crowd that laughed, halted and gave a cry of what but Fred and George didn't acknowledge that.

"But suppose you're second best, eh?"

"What do you think?" They asked in unison, their grins widening to resemble a Cheshire cat.

"I-" He glanced down again, seeing nothing that would indicate they'd done anything. Was that it? Was it truly nothing, merely something to give him increasing paranoia until they broke the news? No, it couldn't have been. The twin's pranks were never nothing. "What did you two do?"

"We just finished our first real invention," Fred said matter-of-factly, puffing out his chest proudly like a father whose child just said their first word.

"Yeah, be proud of us, Perce," George added. "Took us weeks to get everything right."

"What does it do?" Percy demanded, his voice betraying how nervous he was.

I don't want to know

I don't want to know

I swear I don't want to know!

"Oh, nothing much."

"Completely harmless."

Right

It never is with you two

They're just trying to lull you into a false sense of security

Don't fall for it!

"Except for your clothes."

There it is

"What about my clothes?" Percy would have been mad at the little game they were playing, bypassing his questions and making it all the more confusing than it needed to be. He was growing more agitated, more on edge and they weren't helping by not answering his question!

"Well, Percy, you might not know this but they've vanished!" Fred told him.

"Gone."

"Disappeared."

"Poof."

"What do you mean they're gone?" Percy's voice was laced with confusion. Dread was creeping up his back. "No, they're not."

"Not to you," George said. "But to everyone else they have." Fred nudged Percy, whilst the older redhead's face shoned with horror.

"You...you mean.."

"They can see your kickers?" Fred snickered. "'Fraid so."

George sighed. "Right you are, Fred. Not the most pleasant sight and-are those the ones Mum made for you? I thought you stopped wearing those ages ago?"

That started up a whole new wave of laughter. Students from the Slytherin table were cat-calling him, Marcus Flint bringing up that bloody incident when his pants had come down because of another prank by the twins. He couldn't look over there, they thought it was a riot.

"Did you lot hear that?" Malfoy said, haughtily, "They're so poor they can't even afford real knickers. Course, your family can barely afford food so I'm not surprised."

Professor McGonagall's outraged shout of Mr. Malfoy rang through, but Percy didn't notice. He spluttered, his hands shooting down to cover himself. He didn't know what to do; he just froze, his mouth going dry and the noise slowly dissipated to a buzzing sound. People were still laughing, they were still talking, but his mind wouldn't acknowledge it. It was like that day Great Aunt Murel came and everything had gone on in slow motion; like that, that was how the world was moving.

He needed to get out of there.

Humiliated.

That was how Percy felt. A deep rooted shame that infested every fiber of his being. He didn't know if it would ever go away, as it certainly didn't feel like it would. It only seemed appropriate to bury himself further into the pillow and never leave his dorm again. He couldn't face anyone again, not after the disastrous spectacle that was made of him earlier that evening.

He'd run until the laughter dwindled down to simply a muffled noise behind him. With his hands still covering his bottom half, he bent himself awkwardly beside a bed to wait until she was finished instructing a boy that was already there for a rather serious burn-from potions, most likely-not to further irritate it by any any means of strenuous activity or careless negligence. When he effectively waved her down, she simply sighed, guessing right away that this was the work of his brother, he'd been their unfortunate victim. The process of undoing the spell was relatively quick; he sat on a bed with a thin sheet to shield him and he crossed his arms to keep the few people that were inside the hospital wing from seeing his chest.

It was too bad that one couldn't have their embarrassment removed, Percy thought, bitterly.

They'd gone too far this time, Fred and George had. They were always going overboard, each new time was worse than the last, nearly always excused. And this wouldn't deter them, they wouldn't be hit with an epiphany, coming to realize that despite how they laughed at their own jokes and pranks, or how others laughed, not everyone did. They didn't pay attention to his feelings. His embarrassment. In fact, it was a motivator. A source of encouragement they lapped up eagerly and willingly.

He wasn't known for crying. He didn't burst into tears at the slightest of problems, seeing no solution possible. He was rational, he thought things through from all angles. He was always level-headed and that was how he was viewed by others. Oh, but little did they know.

Little did they know how he spent countless nights in his bedroom at the Burrow, the door locked and curtains on the window shut, arms around his knees and exhaling trembling breaths, suffering all alone. They didn't know that, not one person alive knew that and it wasn't information that he was keen on allowing to get around.

Percy's tears slipped down his cheek and onto the pillowcase, blending into the fabric instantaneously. It was becoming too much, all of this. His failures were sky-high now, a whirlpool of damage he'd caused that was swirling him so fast he couldn't do a thing about it. He knew it, they all knew it but nobody wanted to say anything to him directly.

And his family...he choked on a sob. They wouldn't be held down by his presence anymore. His parents needn't worry over an extra mouth to feed or how he effectively brought down the mood whenever he entered the room. His siblings wouldn't have to feel annoyed because Perfect Percy was their brother and they wished he was someone else, wishing that he was cool and fun like Bill and Charlie were. He wouldn't be meddling into their business or getting needlessly in the way. They didn't deserve that, to feel ashamed of their family because of him.

He just...he needed a way out.

Perhaps there is one

If you're willing to go through with it

Percy crept out of the dormitory for the last time without glancing back. With puffy eyes and an aching heart, he held his head up high.

Percy was tired. So tired.

And now he was going to do something about it.