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“Yeah, I hear you! I’m coming!” Marcus shouted, swearing profusely as he banged his knee on the coffee table in his living room. He’d been taking a nap after quidditch practice when pounding knocks on his front door had re-awoken him. “Bleedin’ Merlin’s ghost,” he muttered as he nearly tripped over his quidditch gear bag. It was still sitting where he had carelessly dropped it near the front door when he’d come home earlier that evening. “What?” he growled out as he yanked open the door. His demeanour quickly changed from irritation to shocked concern at the sight of the dejected looking person on the other side of the threshold. “Merlin and Nimwe, Percy what’s happened?” he asked as he opened his door to admit the slightly built, bookish young man. Of all the things he’d expected to see that day, the sight of this man – who he led into the living room – was among the last.
“I- well, that is to say- I mean… I’m intruding. I’m sorry. I should just- er, go…” Percy stammered as he was turning back to the door.
“What? No. Percy, stay. You- you just got here,” Marcus grabbed hold of the younger man’s arm to prevent his escape. “Just, just sit a moment.” The redhead complied. He sat on the couch staring at the coffee table that Marcus had run into, looking for all the world like someone had just kicked his pet puffskein all the way down a hill and off a cliff and then laughed about it in his face. Marcus went into the kitchen and came back through with two chilled bottles of PuJuka Original – a vodka and pumpkin juice beverage[1] – handing one to Percy, who was still staring at the table like it held all the answers to whatever was going on in his head. He dropped onto the couch next to him. The younger man looked very much like he wanted to make a run for the door. Marcus briefly wondered if he’d have to resort to magic to keep him in place until the redhead got around to speaking what was on his mind.
“I’m sorry for imposing on you like this,” Percy said, changing his focus from the table to the bottle now in his hands. “But I literally have nowhere else I could go to right now.” He took a swig of the drink.
Taking a drink of his own, Marcus carefully considered his next words. “It’s alright, little brother. I don’t mind.”
He heard Percy’s sharp intake of breath and as the man’s eyes widened. They stared at each other. He noticed, more than ever, that Percy had their mother’s clear blue eyes. Unlike his own grey. “Y-you know?” His eyes were as wide as an insulted tree fairy’s as the blood drained from his face.
“I’ve known for years, Perce,” Marcus confirmed gently.
“But… how?” Percy blinked, eyes shifting around the room but not taking in anything. “How long?”
Marcus took another drink and thought a moment. “Honestly? Since we brewed the Direct Lineage Potion in class two years ago.” Percy stared at him, appearing to be at a loss for words. He dropped his gaze again. “I got into a fight with Wood later that day. He ran off in a huff after a professor broke it up and didn’t notice he’d dropped a parchment. It was your results.” If possible, Percy looked even more lost. He placed his bottle on the coffee table and hugged himself.
“He’d known…” Percy said quietly in a hurt tone. “All that time he’d known…”
“Who knew what?”
“Oliver,” Percy replied, looking up again. “I never understood why he suddenly started avoiding me. I tried to ask him about it outside the Great Hall one day and he just told me to shove off.” He averted his eyes dejected again. “He knew…”
It actually broke Marcus’ heart to see the younger man – his younger brother – so downtrodden. “Wood always was a bastard. Just like his father.”
“You mean my father,” Percy said morosely.
Marcus shrugged. “He’s no different from mine. Only difference is neither of us actually take after ‘em.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that one.” Percy’s shoulders slumped. The two were quiet for a while. Marcus finished his drink as Percy took his up again.
“Want to let me in on it?”
“I’m an idiot and a fool with my head in the clouds,” Percy said and knocked back the bottle, finishing it off in one go. “I took a perfectly good thing and ruined it. All for a misplaced sense of pride and the irritation I’ve not been able to shake since I found out.”
“Well, that was elaborate,” Marcus said a dryly.
“I was proud for being in the professional position I am. I’m the bloody Junior Undersecretary for the sodding Minister, for Le Fay’s sake. And under the Weasley name to boot,” Percy began, picking at the bottle’s label. “I was self-righteous. Thought the family would be better suited if Arthur was more than a drone in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office.”
Marcus mulled over what he’d said. “Why d’you call him Arthur?”
“‘Cause I don’t deserve to call him father. Not after today. I was getting a lot of heat from him and Molly about my job. They said I rose in the ranks too far too quickly. And that I only did so because the Minister wanted to keep tabs on them since they are in thick with the headmaster. They spoke like I didn’t know the government’s corrupt.”
“Why don’t you deserve to call Arthur father? And Molly mother, too?” Marcus found this turn of events curious.
“Because I’m a disgrace of a son. I ought to go to the infirmary and get my head examined,” Percy answered and pulled the label completely off. “I was hurt when I found out I’m not their son. At first, I thought they were purposely keeping it from me. But, after a while, I realised that wasn’t the case.” He put the bottle down and played with the label. “But I’ve never felt quite right since. I mean, all my life, deep down, I never felt like I quite belonged. Now I know I didn’t.” He heaved a sigh and tossed the label down as well. Scrubbed a hand down his face.
“What happened, Perce?”
“I did something horrible today. Something unforgivable.” Percy leaned back on the couch and rested his head on the back, staring at the ceiling. “I got angry with Arthur for treading on my success. I said everything I knew would hurt him. I berated him, and his work, and his self-worth.” Percy sighed and closed his eyes. “And, sin of sins, I stated point blank that he wasn’t my father and never would be.” The two stayed silent for a few breaths. “I just up and left after. I packed my things and left. I’m a fool.”
“What made you think to come here?”
“I just… I have nowhere else to go.” Percy’s voice cracked. Marcus couldn’t stand it. He pulled his little brother, who looked so much like their mother (may her soul rest in peace), into a comforting hug. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh, don’t be. You can stay here.”
“N-no, I’ve imposed enough.”
“I have plenty of room and you’re not imposing,” Marcus stated firmly. “You’re family.” The two brothers sat on the couch in comforting silence.
A lot had changed in the three years since Percy had his falling out with the Weasleys. Within the following week he had quit his job at the ministry. He went back to school taking business and management classes. By the next year he was able to become his brother’s sports manager and was currently in the process of completing negotiations for Marcus’ contract with Puddlemere United. He could still recall when he’d showed up to begin the negotiations two days prior:
He’d been his brother’s manager for the past year. Since Marcus’ five-year contract with the Chudley Cannons was expiring, he was convinced he could negotiate a contract with a more prestigious team. Marcus was easily their best player and had single-handedly pulled them out of dead last. He arrived at the Player Management office for his meeting to find the current starting keeper and one of the chasers in an argument. The manager was sitting behind his desk looking irritated at the chaser. While he wished he didn’t have to face the keeper so soon, he realised, from the argument, this could actually work out to his advantage.
“Ah, Mr. Flint, I hope the chaser contract for your client was satisfactory,” the player manager said as he stood and moved around the desk to shake hands. Oliver Wood, the keeper, turned at the name ‘Flint’ and was shocked to see his former roommate instead of his school rival. The chaser bristled at the mention of the chaser contract
“Almost, Mr. Rumbold,” Ignatius Flint replied. And so started the three-day negotiation.
Vivien Flint died of an incurable illness the year after her two sons graduated from Hogwarts. In her will, she’d left letters entrusted to Marcus. One was addressed to him, the other to his brother. They explained her actions surrounding the birth and switching of her child and the Weasley child. Marcus was instructed to give the second letter to his brother when he felt the time was right, which he did not long after his brother moved in with him.
Not long after moving in and quitting his job, Percy legally changed his name to Ignatius Ambrosio Flint. Marcus and Iggy (as the elder insisted on calling him) soon made a tradition of visiting the small gravesite of the true Weasley child every year on Iggy’s birthday. They had the headstone changed within the first year. It now read the name Percival Vivyan Weasley.
During Marcus’ seventh year at school, Vivien came into an inheritance from a relative who had been moderately wealthy. This old woman hadn’t been fortunate enough to have any children of her own and was quite fond of Vivien. She hadn’t cared about the supposed dishonour she’d displayed in having two children out of wedlock, and with separate fathers on top of it. As it stood, Vivien Flint’s inheritance included a small manor, a large cottage, some stocks and bonds, and a small number of medium sized vaults in Gringotts. In her own will, Vivien left her entire estate, in equal shares, to her two sons – each to inherit on his twenty-first birthday.
Despite the small fortunes they inherited, the two were contented with their chosen professions. They did, however, move out of their old apartment and into the cottage which was situated closer to the Puddlemere United stadium.
Iggy smiled softly as he took a drink from his bottle of PuJuka Red.[2] He watched from his seat beside his brother as Ginny formerly-Weasley danced with her new husband. He was reasonably certain his and his brother’s invitations weren’t extended by the happy couple. While he did eventually apologise, and the apology was accepted, most of the Weasleys never truly forgave him for the falling out.
The younger Weasleys were generally quite happy to discover that he wasn’t actually a genetic member of the family – he even heard they’d thrown a party after the truth was announced. Bill and Charlie, on the other hand, being so much older than him, were as saddened by the news as their parents had been. They didn’t fault his mother for what she had done and even went so far as to make his brother feel like family too. He shared tea every Sunday with his parents. They still steadfastly maintained they were his parents and continued to love him as a son. They did appreciate it when he showed them the gravesite of their true son.
He finished his drink and stood, making his way out of the large tent covered area, his brother following behind. He turned back once more to see the Weasley family, all smiling at the happy couple. He watched a moment before the Flint brothers turned and disapparated into the mist.
—30—