Chapter Text
"Harry isn't getting my letters," Ron whined.
Mum put more scrambled eggs onto Ron's plate and tutted, in a way that conveyed either sympathy or that she wasn't actually listening.
Errol wasn't suited to delivering post farther than the Lovegoods or the Diggorys. In lieu of spending money they didn't have on a new owl, Mum was most likely hoping Ron would make better friends. Harry Potter was a troublemaker, which was to be expected from a child growing up in London.
Percy declined a second helping. One of their hens had stopped laying, which meant less eggs until next spring. He sighed when Ron looked at him with attempted puppy-dog-eyes. That hadn't worked when he'd been four, and Ron had been really cute at age four. "I'm not lending you Hermes."
"But Errol isn't bringing Harry my letters," Ron said, then drowned his distress in ketchup and eggs.
Wrinkling his nose, Percy got up. "I have my own letters to send." Maybe Penelope would have more ideas on how to improve their curfew rounds next school year. They were also going to be responsible for initiating the new fifth year prefects.
"Percy, dear, I'll need your help before lunch."
"Yes, Mum."
While the others scampered off to play in the orchard, where they hopefully wouldn't get into trouble, Percy sat down at Bill's old desk in Charlie's old room and took his responsibilities seriously.
.oOo.
"Aunt Muriel sent these old things through the floo last night," Mum said, levitating the trunk onto the kitchen table. "I brought down the boxes of Charlie's leftover school things too. Hopefully, we can put together something nice for Ginny."
Percy eyed the trunk. It had probably looked alright in 1900, when Muriel had gone to school, but the best Ginny would be getting was functional . As a rule, the Weasley children very rarely got to have nice things. It came with the territory of being poor.
"I'll re-dye them," Mum said about the robes. "They'll be good as new."
Some leather-care charms and a strong Reparo on the seams brought the trunk back into decent condition. Ginny would hate the embroidery. However much Mum and Dad tried to treat her like their princess, she didn't like girly things at all. Percy almost suggested he and Ginny swap trunks, but managed to keep his mouth shut just in time.
"I'll go fetch Ron's textbooks from upstairs," he said instead. They only needed to last one final year of Hogwarts, so repair charms would have to tide them over until then.
"It's character-building," Mum said when they were done, hands on her hips as she surveyed the kit they had cobbled together. "A few new books, and a family wand from the Prewett side. She'll be off to a great start."
Percy looked at the same sad stack and offered Mum a small smile. "I'm sure she'll make do. We always have."
Mum wrapped him into a hug that was just a bit smothering. "What would I do without you, Perce?" she said into his hair.
You'd have one less mouth to feed. "I'm sure you'd make do. We always have."
"Right." She let him go, wiped at her face, and gave him a small push towards the back door. "Go fetch Ginny so she can help me with lunch."
"Yes, Mum."
.oOo.
"Hello, Cedric."
The other boy smiled. He'd grown over the past month, but he had self-tailoring trousers so his ankles weren't showing like Percy's did. "I made prefect," he said, falling into step with Percy on the path to Ottery Saint Catchpole. "Just like you said."
"Congratulations."
"Dad's really proud, he won't stop talking about it. He's given me four galleons for whatever I like. I was thinking Honeydukes. How about you?"
Percy watched as Cedric clambered up a fence and filled his pockets with plums. "I doubt I'll have any change left for Honeydukes." Mum had sent him down to the village with twelve sickles and eight knuts. He was supposed to shop around for a spatula to replace the one Ginny had accidentally burned.
"Don't be silly, I'll buy you something. I know how much you love their salted liquorice." Cedric pulled a face. "So long as you don't make me have any." He bit into a plum, handing over a few for Percy.
"Thank you, Cedric." Percy smiled, eating carefully so his face wouldn't get sticky. "I'll share my Christmas fudge with you."
"It's so cool that your mum bakes. I love that."
"Ginny's learning, too. Her chocolate cake is great."
Cedric sighed. "I wish I had a little sister. Or a little brother. Or even a big brother. Having such a big family would be the dog's bollocks."
Percy laughed, startling the sheep that had been grazing in their paddock. "You can have some of mine, take your pick. But those are very different things, having a brother or a sister."
"Yeah? Mum is always going on about how girls and boys are both equally capable . She does say sometimes that she wishes I'd been a girl. Eleanora , she'd have called me, can you picture that? Ha!"
"Mum's really glad she had Ginny, too. I don't think Ginny's very girly, but Mum isn't letting that stop her. Now that Gin's old enough for a wand, mum is teaching her cooking and laundry charms."
Percy wished Mum'd teach him those, too, but he knew she wouldn't, even if he asked. Besides, there was only one reason she would consider why boys might clean their own sheets, and he didn't want her thinking that at all. It just seemed such a useful thing to know. When he moved out, like Bill and Charlie had, he'd need to know these kinds of things. It wasn't like he'd be able to afford a House Elf service to do it for him.
Or maybe he would, if he got a good Ministry job like he was hoping for. Still, it didn't seem fair. Ginny hated all the trappings of being a girl, like household magicks, or having mum plait her hair. Meanwhile, Bill got told off for having his hair too long, and Percy wasn't allowed to learn the spells.
"I guess I could have gone by Ella ," Cedric said. "That wouldn't be too bad. I'd have hair down to my knees. Whenever you'd come visit, you could stand outside my bedroom window and call, ' Rapunzel, Rapunzel!' "
Percy laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "If you were a girl, I wouldn't visit you at all. Boys and girls don't get to be friends."
"What about you and Penelope, then?"
"That's different." Percy wasn't quite sure why, but he knew it was true. They didn't feel like a boy and a girl when they talked for hours, or wrote letters, or walked their prefect rounds together.
"Sure, sure." Cedric nudged him again.
They rounded the bend, the village main street coming into view. "I'll meet you at Honeydukes," Percy said. "See you later, Cedric."
.oOo.
"I told you, you never should have enchanted that car." Even when she was whispering, Mum was loud.
Percy sat on the stairs in his pyjamas, listening. Harry and Ron had gone to bed. Fred and George, too, were exhausted from last night's shenanigans. Ginny was sleeping over at the Lovegoods', safely out of the way.
"Yes, dear." Dad said. He sounded tired. He'd been working overtime again, trying to get his Muggleborn Protection Act through. It'd be very prestigious for his department, and when all was said and done he'd hopefully get a raise out of it.
"Flying willy-nilly through the countryside, like the worst of the muggle-baiters back in the day. They could have been seen, or gotten killed, or arrested. Picture it, Arthur." Mum's voice was growing louder.
"Yes, dear."
"Don't you 'Yes dear' me, I'm talking about your children's safety. Your job, too. If anyone found out about this, anyone at all, they'd fire you. You know they'd fire you."
"It's not that bad," Dad said. "It's not muggle-baiting if you don't leave it around for muggles to use, you see."
"That's the exact nonsense Lucius Malfoy spouted last time you tried to have his home raided. That's the exact nonsense the law you're writing is going to prevent. How many things in this house will be illegal then? How many more times will our children almost be arrested for something you put into their hands, or their heads?"
"Sorry, dear."
Dad's shoulders would be slumped in tired defeat. Percy got up, taking a big step over the creaking stair, and made his way back to bed.
There was no point in listening, there was nothing new he'd learn. It was always the same with Mum and Dad: his spare time was spent fiddling with Muggle electrics, and she spent the little energy she had left berating him for being irresponsible and foolish.
Percy grimaced to himself as he climbed under his covers. Mum was always worried about the wrong things. The question she should have been asking was, why had Ron asked Fred and George for help instead of going to Mum and Dad?
.oOo.
Dear Bill,
This summer has been mad, or rather, madder than usual. Remember when our biggest problem was making sure the twins didn't drown in the river while we played on the willow like it was a pirate ship? Last week, a storm blew it into the water and we had to cut her down. The river looks wrong now, but I'm too old to go playing anyway.
My OWL results came back. Ten Os and two EEs. You know what mum said? "Just like our Bill." Seven children, but all she can think to do is compare us to you. I understand why you left for Egypt as soon as you could, I really do. I don't begrudge you for it. If I'd been you, maybe I'd have left, too.
Actually, I don't know if I could just go. Dad has almost gotten in trouble at work again for enchanting things he shouldn't have. One of these days, I swear, it's going to be the whole family living off eight chickens, an orchard, and a greenhouse. Who's going to be paying for Ginny's new books, Ron's new robes, Fred's asthma medication, George's potions ingredients? I know why you left for Egypt, and I know mum's too proud to ask, but it's our responsibility now, isn't it? I'll be getting a job next summer, once I have my apparition licence, but just until then I'm counting on you.
.oOo.
Dear Bill,
Thank you. I made sure Ron and Ginny both got new boots for this winter.
I agree, a Ministry job would be best. Mum's always harping on about it, and someone in the family should step up and do what she wants. Might as well be me, I think. You're all set at Gringotts, Charlie's never leaving his dragons, and the twins don't care enough about what Mum thinks to bother living up to expectations.
They blew a hole in your wall last week. Well, it's their room now, of course. When dad fixed up the wall, he charmed the whole room purple for them. It's almost as much an eyesore as Ron's choice of orange.
Harry is officially staying until the end of summer. You're just saying that he's not bad because that's what Mum says, and she's just subscribing to Professor Dumbledore's views. If you'd met him, you'd think differently. Ron got into so much trouble last year, including losing fifty house points one time and a nasty concussion at the end of the year. It's always Harry this and Harry that, dragging him into things. Ginny isn't sensible enough to keep her distance, but she's too nervous to talk around him. I have high hopes for her yet.
Isn't it funny how Mum wishes all her sons would go work at the Ministry, but when it comes to her daughter her only expectation is that she'll marry one day? Cedric's mum believes women can do anything and everything they want, and mum thinks they can't even play Quidditch.
We've all seen Ginny fly. If anyone can play Quidditch, it's her.
.oOo.
Dear Bill,
We survived the family shopping trip. Harry gifted Ginny a full set of the Lockhart texts we were so worried about, so we'll be sharing those between us. My Gemini charm copies last for almost a fortnight now.
The Sphinx you wrote about sounds even more dangerous than the descriptions in our textbooks. By the time Gringotts forwards this to Egypt, I'll be at Hogwarts and you'll probably have moved on from that tomb already. All the same, I hope you're taking care out there. Remember, Dad can't be counted on if he keeps up like this. If the worst happens, it'll be down to you and me to keep us afloat.
.oOo.