Chapter Text
‘–be it... GRYFFINDOR!’
The said respective house erupted into cheers as The Boy Who Lived was ushered on quivering legs towards their direction.
‘Did you see The Boy Who Lived?’
‘He’s been sorted into Gryffindor!’
‘Harry Potter’s in the same house as us!’
‘We got Potter! We got Potter!’, twin voices whooped.
Multiple hands made to grab onto Harry– his robes, his hair, somebody had even reached for the cuff of his bit-too long trousers, though he was able to clumsily avoid all the attempts, he was caught with his hand clasped tightly in a bigger, freckled one.
Looking up, Harry had almost stumbled back from how far he had to crane his neck to meet the much taller boy’s eyes. He kind of looked like Ron, be it much older, more freckled, and clearly stalking in height.
It took about another moment for Harry to remember seeing him among the family that had helped him at the station. ‘He must be one of Ron’s brothers,’ Harry had then concluded.
Scrounging around through his memories of the conversation with Ron on the train, Harry was then dragged back out when the hand vigorously shaking his had come to a stop to let go. ‘Percival Weasley, it’s a pleasure to meet you Harry,’ Percival– or Percy, as Harry now remembered, introduced himself before guiding the younger boy to sit down.
The sorting ceremony continued as Ron was, to Harry’s relief and happiness, made Gryffindor and had quickly scampered to Harry’s side at the table.
–
Admittedly, Harry hadn’t anticipated struggling as much as he did his first week. He could barely handle the sudden change from normalcy– muggle to magic and wizards and 335 centimeter tall giants, never mind could he manage to change a matchstick into a needle. Needless to say, none of his other classes had gone any better; Harry was down right sure the potion’s professor had some kind of unspoken vendetta against him predating to before Harry was even born!
To make matters worse, he must’ve looked as troubled as he felt when one Prefect Percy had approached him that Thursday evening where Harry had been mulling over how to hold a quill, never mind even how to start his potion’s essay in the Gryffindor’s common room.
‘Harry?’ A too pompous voice said his name, spooking Harry for his head to snap immediately back around just to be met with an equally pretentious figure with arms crossed in front of his chest.
‘Erm... hi... Percy,’ was certainly a dumb reply, but with the twins’ insistent grousing and Ron’s own lamenting of their older brother’s attitude supposedly worse than before, now that he was made prefect, Harry wasn’t so looking forward to whatever came next out of older boy’s rule screwed mouth.
‘It’s almost til curfew, what are you doing out here?’
A glance at the window and the pitch dark sky just outside then to his completely empty, if not for some ink stained blotches, parchment-supposed-to-be-essay, before green eyes returned to stare up at Percy told the prefect all he needed to know.
With a sigh and arms relaxed to his sides, he rounded the settee before settling on it just beside the first-year. A flourish of his hand at the blank parchment and a questioning raised eyebrow at Harry, it didn’t take much more for the younger student to concede.
Sinking deeper into the cushions of the seat, he leaned over the table where his essay laid, arms over it as if Harry could possibly hide the mess he’s made of it and the surrounding surface of the wooden table. Fingers digging into the end of the quill still in his hand.
‘I was trying to write my Potion’s essay, but... well you’ve already seen it, it’s...’
‘Incomplete?’ Percy finished for him. Harry simply shrugged a shoulder. Percy decided to continue.
‘What seems to be the issue then? Are you unable to understand the topic of the essay?’ if only Percy knew Harry hadn’t even been able to get that far yet to worry about that; the incorrect observation just tightened the uneasy coil in Harry’s stomach.
Though with a shake of his head, Percy seemed to have come to a realisation when his gaze zeroed onto the way Harry held his quill.
‘Are you having trouble with writing? The act of doing it– I mean,’ he tried again, and at that Harry perked up to meet Percy’s questioning look, though this time it appeared less condescending as the previous raised eyebrow, and more genuine. His eyes quickly darted away, but all Percy needed was the hesitant nod of the kid’s head as confirmation.
Scooching over, yet still keeping a respectable distance. Percy lifted his wand and with a curt wave of it, all the stains and blotches dissipated along with the ones specking Harry’s paper.
‘Now, Harry, could you show me how you were writing before?’ Percy instructed, resting his wand on his lap, then a gesture with his hand for Harry to go on.
Harry complied, turning to his newly refreshed paper and immediately blemishing it, just like before, the moment the tip of the quill touched the surface. A small pool of ink gathered at the end and streaking in uneven lines as Harry attempted a stroke.
‘Hmm...’ with a flick of his eyes at the parchment to then Harry’s hand, quivering as the feather above swayed with his trembling handling of the quill, Percy had a sudden sense of déjà vu.
With another wave of his wand to clear the mess, he brought himself closer down to Harry’s level.
‘You’re gripping the quill too tightly.’
At that, Harry looked up, with an expression of confusion and almost disbelief, a look Percy’s definitely seen before in Ron when his younger brother had once struggled to hold a quill as well.
Percy continued, ‘You’re holding the pen right, but when you go to write, take care to press the nib to the surface lightly. Similarly to the weightlessness of a feather, you must not apply too much pressure– lest you break the quill or use too much ink all at once.’
‘Now try again,’ he encouraged. With a smile, now his crossed arms rested on his knees, his eyes fixed on the parchment for Harry to try once more.
With Percy’s advice, Harry dipped the tip of the quill into the pot of ink, letting it drip once then twice before he brought it above his essay.
With a careful hand, the quill had barely touched the paper, but that small contact had been enough for Harry to start writing out the beginning of his charm’s essay in easy, albeit a bit crude, handwriting.
He immediately looked up with wide eyes to see Percy’s own slightly squinted ones by his smile.
Finding his voice, he cleared his throat, a bit sheepish, ‘I–..uh., thank you, Percy,’
The prefect simply nodded. Standing up as he dusted off his dustless robes and straightened his already straight prefect badge.
‘It’s just hit curfew, you’ll have to go to bed now, Harry,’ said Percy, the earlier mannered tone returning, much to Harry’s chagrin.
Harry, quickly gathering his stuff, grumbled under his breath. Percy taught him how to write– which was good and all, but for nothing if Harry wasn’t even allowed to finish the damned essay. Maybe he could stay up writing in bed..? But then that brought up the earlier founded worry of not even knowing how to start the essay itself.
Whether it be coincidence or the prefect was a secret legilimens, it was as if Percy read his mind. He began with a clearing of his throat, that had Harry swiveling his head back to look at the older student over his shoulder from where Harry stood at the first steps leading to the boy dormitories, ‘Ehem… but if you’d like, I could assist you with your potion’s essay tomorrow at breakfast?’
He couldn’t place what exactly about Percy’s tone had struck Harry as odd, but it sounded as if it carried a weight of expectation. A practiced expectation for Harry to reject the offer.
He simply shook his head to dispel the thought, but opened his mouth quickly upon Percy’s tight lip grimace to, what probably looked like, Harry’s decline. ‘If you don’t mind–...I’d be really grateful,’ he had meant to reply, although a bit sheepishly.
At that, Percy evidently relaxed before schooling his features to one of overbearing authority, though Harry wasn’t sure if Percy knew he looked like that, ‘Right then, off to bed with you so we can have an early start to The Great Hall tomorrow.’
He nodded once before heading off towards his dorm room. Only when Harry was tucked underneath his blanket, pulled up to his chin, filtering out Ron’s snores did his mind come to a rest enough to think, ‘Percy’s not so bad.’