Archive of Our Own

In Medio Stat Virtus

The third floor of the castle was quiet.

Classes had only started the week before, and had been scheduled on other floors, so there was little reason to visit this wing, especially since it was lunchtime, and the few students that had been around had already left… except for one.

Percy Weasley, third son of the infamous Weasley family, sporting a new badge that proudly declared him Head Boy, was walking briskly across the empty corridor, eyes glancing around at every opened door on the way down, frowning to himself.

The wing he was in was usually kept for storage purposes, as the castle was big and not every room was used for studying or practicing or classes, so he was less familiar with this area than the others, proceeding with cautious but determined steps.

Annoyance flared inside him, displeased at having to give up on one of the few free moments he had to go trapsing around the castle, though unfortunately his new position meant he had to.

Coming out of his Transfiguration class he had caught his brothers, the twins, talk in hushed tones behind one of the statues on the first floor. They’d been chuckling and elbowing each other, obnoxious and smiling smugly, and the sight had set off alarms in his mind.

The year had barely started and he’d already had to chase Fred and George across the castle three times in one week, each time berating them for their more and more dangerous escapades, detracting as many points as he could without sending Gryffindor into negative so early in the year, though neither twin had looked unrepentant or apologetic.

If anything, they’d snapped back harder each time, upset that Percy had doubled down on annoying them so early in the term.

Percy was obviously as upset about it as them, for the opposite reason –his last year was shaping itself to be the worst so far, with a possible mass murderer loose and hunting down his brother Ron’s best friend Harry Potter, his duties as Head Boy, and his need to study for his NEWTs, and on top of that he had to contend with two brothers who were probably hoping to cause him a nervous breakdown before Christmas holidays.

He’d rushed towards them, hoping to catch their next ploy before it could even start, but they’d seen him coming and ran, cackling and jeering at him and his badge, making him falter for a second too long at noticing even his own classmates had been snickering around him.

It had taken a single moment of hesitation and then they were gone, leaving him once again to nurse his bruised ego and his failure.

Still–

Even then, Percy had heard enough. Fred and George had mentioned the third floor twice, he was sure of it, and it would not do for him to ignore such obvious hint until it was too late –so when he had noticed their conspicuous absence in the great Hall at meal time, Percy had given up on having lunch and hurried up three flights of stairs to catch the twins in the act.

He knew how he looked to the teachers –Head Boy, yet unable to rein in his own brothers year after year, despite his experience dealing with them at home… Percy felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment and shame, displeased with himself for failing so blatantly at his own duties and enraged with Fred and George for their actions.

This was his last year –the culmination of all his work, seven years of focusing on his studies, building himself a foundation for his future career, for a chance to become someone without being overshadowed by his own family, someone better… yet the one thing he’d wished to complete had remained unfulfilled, like a horrible spot not even magic could clean from his conscience.

Percy Weasley might have been a decent student and a good Prefect, and was shaping to be a responsible Head Boy, but he had no one’s respect. Not when his own brothers continued to defy him so brazenly.

As he stopped by to check every room, though, he started to consider the possibility that he was too late –or that they’d just deceived him once again.

The thought hurt, but Percy was rather familiar with that feeling, enough that he was able to swallow down the bitterness, even as he turned one more corner and found himself facing the last open door of that floor’s wing, ready to turn back and leave…

Only to hear a low, shuffling noise from within the room.

With a little more anger than he usually allowed himself to show, Percy pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room, footsteps heavy on the stone floor.

“Fred! George! It’s over, stop this useless farce and follow me back to the Great Hall!”

The room was dark and empty, safe for what appeared to be a giant, antique armoire in a corner and a set of dusty armchairs that had seen better days. The windows were covered with thick, heavy drapes, keeping the sunlight out, but there were traces of footprints on the carpet near the armoire, and Percy’s eyes narrowed further at the sight.

“I know you’re here!” he called out again, pushing his glasses up his nose while making sure to keep his tone severe, to sound like Professor McGonagall when she was dolling out punishment. “If you give up on whatever you’ve come up with, I may even decide not to dock out points!”

No one answered him, but there was a soft, shuffling noise from within the armoire, and Percy snorted. So this was how it would be. No mercy, then.

He walked towards the armoire with determination, hand reaching out for the handles–

The armoire’s doors slammed open on their own, and Percy stumbled backwards, glasses slipping down his nose, as Fred and George stumbled out towards him, twin expressions grinning so wildly it fell on the side of creepy.

“Boo!” George laughed, nose crinkled and eyes bright. “Did we scare poor little Head Boy Percy?”

“Of course not,” Fred scoffed playfully, as they both started to circle around him. “Didn’t you know he’s the real monster inside a cupboard? We’re only a pale imitation~”

Percy refused to be cowed, huffing and tilting his head up, eyes trained to both Fred and George as they danced around him. “Boys–”

“Boys, he says, did you hear him Greg?”

“Absolutely did hear him, Forge! Boys, he calls us. Big scary Head Boy Percy has to be adult so we have to be the children!”

“Does he want us to play with him, Greg, brother o’ mine?” one of the twins twisted his head to look at his brother and flashed him a grin before he returned his attention to Percy, who, despite his own determination not to be cowed, ended up taking a step back as that grin twisted into something meaner. “Because we can.”

“Fred–” Percy tried to put all his displeasure in his voice, but both twins scoffed, drowning him with noise.

“I’m not Fred,” the twin said, disgusted. “Merlin, Percy. You’ve known us since birth–”

“–our birth, of course, not yours… we don’t even know where Mom found you… perhaps the bog. Head Bog Percy–”

“–and you still can’t distinguish us? Not that we expect you to. You never do notice the important things.”

“Important like who is Fred and who is George,” the two twins stood still then, identical faces twisted in upset faces, but something in them was wrong, and Percy blinked. He’d been taken aback at their sudden appearance, reacting instinctively, but now that he looked at them… “Then again… it’s not important for you.”

“He only thinks about his grades, his future, his badge…” the twins looked mutinous, but still with an edge of mockery there, though the barrage of it still made Percy blink in surprise. Usually they did not pile so much on him at once, just one or two pointed, sharp comments.

George –or was it Fred?– snorted. “When was the last time you thought of something that wasn’t yourself, Perfect Percy? Bet you wank to that too!”

The other twin laughed out loud, scornful. “You think he even wanks? Bet he doesn’t even think about anything but schoolwork and exams.”

“Oooh, Mr. Outstanding, Sir~”

Leaning on one another, both twins laughed together, wiping invisible tears from their eyes.

“Truth though,” one of them said, expression fading quickly into scorn, “no time to wank when he has to study. When he has to prance around lording over us all his power. Perfect Prefect Percy, and now its Head Bog Percy, and all along he’s only loyal to himself.”

“Not like he thinks family’s important anyway, with the way he always acts like he’d want us gone forever.”

“Well that’s mutual! Surprise, Percy, we also don’t want to call you family!”

The quiet pang of pain Percy had felt at first, mixed with anger and annoyance at his brothers’ attitude, slowly faded away, and Percy blinked, looking at Fred and George. He expected them to mock him, of course, it was nothing new, yet… their loathing tone, the subject… that was not normal. Percy’s eyes moved from their faces down to their hands. They were both clutching their wands tightly, pointed at him in what could have been a threat.

He looked further down, to where their feet were… not touching the ground.

“Oh,” he murmured in comprehension. “You are a Boggart.”

The twins’ words from before, the excited grins, the huddling together, the disappearing act… it all made sense, now.

The grapevine about Professor Lupin’s boggart class had spread through the school so quickly that no one had failed to hear about Neville Longbottom’s scare. Professor Snape as a boggart was… everyone had just nodded, unsurprised, Percy among them. The man was a mighty potion master, that he was, but not even Percy, with his reverence for figures in power, could deny just how bad he was as a teacher.

Even then, he hadn’t expected that the idea of a boggart would make his brothers want him to face one.

The twins were terrors, but this was a level of pranking he had not expected from them –and had it been anyone else, he was sure they would not have attempted this. But it was just Percy, after all. Perfect Prefect, now Head Boy, Percy.

What had they expected him to see?

… what had Percy expected it to turn into?

A teacher admonishing him for not being good enough, a failed project, a bad grade, his mother, maybe.

Definitely not this.

Percy regarded the Boggart with a blank expression. Knowing it was not truly his family had soothed his nerves, the frayed edges of his mood settling down once again into weariness.

This was his fear? He could not understand –he wasn’t afraid of them. Weary, yes. Annoyed, yes. Upset, stressed, wary… yes, to all three.

But not afraid.

‘Fred and George’ advanced towards him, invading Percy’s space, forcing him to take another step backwards, his attention snapping back to the situation at hand.

They were so real, and a part of Percy’s mind was busy analysing the details, the little things the boggart had reproduced to identical perfection. This close, he could see every freckle on their faces, the curve of their faces, the noses they’d inherited from the Prewett side of the family.

So similar to the real thing.

“Back off,” he said, tone even.

“Are you scared, Perfect Percy?” the boggart hissed in Fred’s (or George’s) voice. “You should.”

“Oh yes, you should.”

“You’re alone here, like always.”

“We could seal you away in this cupboard like we did in the Pyramid, only Bill’s not around to get you out.”

“Nor Mum.”

“No one would want to free you because no one likes you here, Percy.”

“Just here, Forge?”

“Oh no, Greg, anywhere. Everywhere.” With a shrug, Boggart Fred-and-George leered at him. “That’s the whole point, right? That you’re so stuck-up and pompous that nobody even likes you. Nobody would miss you.”

“We sure don’t.”

“It’s not even about the detentions–”

“–or the docked points–”

“–or anything in particular, really. We just don’t like you. There isn’t much there to like. You really make it hard to call you a brother.”

There was a flare of annoyance, and Percy’s hand slipped inside his robe, fingers wrapping around his wand.

Was it not enough he had to hear variations of this same speech from the twins, catch fragments of similar beliefs every time he turned a corner, or heard Ron disparaging comments about him to whoever listened to him in the common rooms, or Ginny whining about how she wished she had Bill around instead, since Percy was so boring and annoying? Was it not enough that his own mind agreed with them every time he failed his own expectations or failed to impress someone, or whenever his work was deemed unimportant, or whenever he failed to laugh at an obvious joke he didn’t get, or when he was reminded that he had no close friends, or even acquaintances, that enjoyed having him around?

It was nothing new, just routine, but he did not wish to hear it from an inhuman creature on top of everyone else.

“So? Nothing to say to that?” ‘Fred’, or ‘George’, grinned, wild and mocking. “It’s not like you didn’t know that. Is that why you try so hard at studying and kissing arses? Because you know you’ll never be anything new or special? Tough luck, Percy! We’re the ones with the talent in the family. Bill, and Charlie, and even Ron and Ginny.”

“You?” the other ‘twin’ picked up right away, “maybe you’ll win Mister Pompous. Do you know how to spell it? It’s spelled–”

“P – e – r – c – y!”

And they dissolved into a laughing fit.

It was useless to talk back to a Boggart –that would only give it more fuel, more power, but a part of Percy bristled nonetheless, like it always did whenever the twins started going off on him, calling him stuck up for not allowing them to continue one of their schemes, unrepentant and guiltless.

The words bubbled to his lips, but they died unspoken, Percy’s steely determination swallowing it all down.

It didn’t matter, just like it never did when he said it to his actual brothers.

“Still saying nothing? Just taking it like the good doormat you are?” the Boggart fed off of Percy’s thoughts, twisting that mockery of the twins to reflect that. “Not so much of a Gryffindor, this one, eh, Greg?”

“Nah. Always thought the hat would call for slimy snake when you got there. Bet you begged it to put you with us, did it?”

“Not like you’ve got anywhere else to go. No brain, no loyalty, no courage–”

“–rules are the only thing you like. Good job at licking up people’s arses, Percy. Maybe it will finally get you to run away and leave us alone, so we can forget about you like you want to forget about us.”

Percy regarded the Boggart quietly.

The way to best a Boggart was to know there was nothing substantial behind it, but it fed on fear, on the sudden confrontation it forced on people, its own magic wrapping around the victim’s mind to make what they viewed more real.

Percy knew his brothers were not here, but the same hurt, the same weariness he had when facing them, whirled inside him even now.

The worst part was –it was true. At times, he wanted to leave them behind; get his own place, some privacy to exist without having to share, buy his own things instead of hand-me-downs, distance himself from the embarrassment of watching people look down on his father and his passions, the badly hushed murmurs about how uncaring he seemed of his family, too busy enjoying his inconsequential job to care that his children could barely afford new clothes, new books, new anything. Too busy wasting money on luxuries to think about the future. Away from an overbearing, if well-meaning, mother, from the shadow of two older brothers who’d lucked out in life after working for it, away from siblings who never cared about him, who didn’t want him there either.

He wanted to be away from all of this –find a place where he could feel wanted and appreciated. Find somewhere safe, since not even Hogwarts had been.

And yet.

Despite everything, he knew his family still didn’t realise how much it hurt, how their words dug into him like knives. They loved him, in a way that left enough space for judging him for being different, but they still did.

None of them felt like he did, after all. They all fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces, where Percy was the outsider, a blunted knife in a toolbox, a chipped cup in a China set, a cat among dogs.

With a weary sigh he shook himself from this train of thoughts and he prepared himself, gathering together the needed magic to banish the boggart.

Boggart Fred-and-George regarded him coolly. “Are we so forgettable? You did already forget about Ginny, after all.”

Percy’s hand froze, wand halfway out of his robe.

“Yeah, I don’t think Percy remembers he’s got a sister, dear brother of mine.”

“Like he forgot her all last year, that is.”

“With the murderous snake and the mind control, yeah.”

“Oh, but he could have helped, couldn’t he? Right, Percy?” both twins– no, the Boggart turned towards him, smiles gone. They were– boggart Fred-and-George was looking at him with a frozen expression of disappointment and contempt mirrored on both of their faces.

“He could have. Perfect Prefect Percy, but you failed to help the one who needed it the most.” The fury that flashed past Fred and– boggart Fred-and-George was just as familiar to Percy as their words were, though he’d never heard the real twins speak that way. At least not to his face.

No, the words were all Percy’s own guilt that rose to the surface, but hearing it with their voices… his body froze.

It would not be surprising to know they agreed with him on this.

Ginny…

The diary situation, a dark spirit possessing her through it, as he’d been told much later, after his own breakdown over Ginny having been abducted… he could have helped her. At any time during the year, with his prefect duties, he could have reached out, even if she’d pulled back.

He had tried, but instead of trying harder he’d felt rejected, giving her space instead of doing what he did best –push.

She was his sister, and he had failed her, repeatedly, just like he continued to fail at reining in the worst of the twins’ attitude, just like he continued to fail at any interpersonal relationship he attempted to build.

The only thing he’d yet to fail was a school exam –but even Percy, deep as he was in his duties and studies, knew that there were things worth more.

Like his family, even if they were stretched thin, even if he felt like he didn’t belong. Even if sometimes they made him so angry he felt like he was on fire, they still were –he still loved them. How could he not?

Did they know? Or did they think him different enough from them that even love was a foreign thought?

In a way, the Boggart was doing nothing except make Percy face his mistakes. Calling him out for his failures… how could that be a fear, when it was the truth?

Wasn’t Percy supposed to be a Gryffindor?

“If Ginny had died, it would be because of you,” the Boggart hissed, twin voices speaking at once, rage bubbling under the surface. “Everything is always your fault. Why don’t you disappear and leave us alone? We can’t wait until the year ends and you leave.”

Perhaps, he thought, his fear wasn’t the twins, but the thought of the twins finally telling him off for his faults, cutting ties with him in a way that would have been his fault.

The fear that his family could truly hate him, and see him for what he was –someone who didn’t belong, who’d never been part of the family.

Fred and George, personification of everything the Weasleys stood for –courage, bravery, skill and heart, a united front facing him as an outsider, telling him they knew he was faulted, that he didn’t belong.

Suddenly, Percy could understand why the twins could be his fear.

Slowly, Percy slid his wand out of his robes. The hand holding it was steady, but his other hand was clenched into a tight fist, knuckles white and shaking at his side.

“Just this one year,” he murmured absently. Magic coalesced underneath his skin, thrumming with power, and he swished his wand with a sharp snap. “Riddikulus!”

Light soared from his wand and turned into a burning red glow, becoming a flaming letter that circled all three of them –that circled Percy and the boggart– before unfolding in mid-air.

“Fred Weasley! George Weasley! How dare you make your brother clean up after you once again! I expected better of you both! All I ask is for you two to take this seriously! You are so smart, but you only apply yourselves to this! Pranks are not a job! Don’t you think about your poor mother, and how it feels to know you’re wasting your talents like this? More points lost, more detentions, how could you? Have you not considered what this would mean for us, for the family?”

Molly Weasley’s voice was loud, familiar and realistic, and both Fred and Ge– the boggart winced at the sound, scrambling back. The edges of its two creations blurred slightly, breaking the illusion.

Even then, though, faced with the Howler, Boggart Fred-and-George still seemed to leer at Percy. Just like the originals.

They had never felt really cowed at her screeches, after all.

“And you, Percival Ignatius Weasley!” the Howler turned to speak at him, and Percy sighed quietly, hand trembling. It would not be realistic, if his mother did not include him in such embarrassing display, after all. “All I asked of you was to keep an eye on my boys, you’re a Head Boy this year! Will you not try a bit harder? Their futures depend on you, as their older brother! I’m… I’m so disappointed, Percy.”

“Hah, we got you in trouble with mum! Guess that was the best part of the prank!” the boggart tried its best to keep the pretence up, but the Fred and George in front of him were faded, and they stumbled back and away from his magic. The banishing spell, albeit without laughter, was still enough to push it back and away from him.

With a final swish of his wand, Percy wordlessly opened the cupboard’s doors and the Boggart ran back inside, a parody of his brothers running away from him to avoid detention, and the door slammed behind them, sealing the boggart away.

For a long moment, there was silence –thick, deep and deathly.

Percy took a deep breath, then another.

Slowly, the knot in his throat eased enough for him to feel like he was not choking on it, and the tight grip he had on his wand loosened, allowing him to drop his arm to his side.

It took him a few more seconds before he could move, turning around and leaving the room without a word.

He did not see the way the curtains near the window shuffled as he left, because he did not look back.

***

Had Percy looked back in his haste to leave, he would have noticed two pairs of feet poking from behind the thick curtains by the window, but as he’d been rattled by his encounter with the boggart, he did not, and thus, his brothers’ presence went unnoticed.

Eyes wide, face pale enough that their freckles stood clearly against their skin, Fred and George refused to look at one another, huddled behind a stuffy, dusty curtain, just as rattled by the boggart as Percy had been.

It had sounded fun, when they’d thought they could get their brother to chill and face a boggart.

“I bet it’d be McGonagall,” Fred had said, rubbing his hands together just minutes before Percy had arrived.

“What if it’s mummies?” George had optioned instead, thinking back at Percy’s frightened screech when they’d sealed him inside a tomb during the summer. “Big scary mummies… wager we could get dressed up and ambush him through the year if that was it.” A pause. “You know, to help him overcome his fears.”

“Of course,” Fred had snickered. “What if it’s Snape for him too? Can you imagine how funny it’d be?”

“Could be mum!” George’s eyes had widened in glee. “Can you imagine Mum coming out of that cupboard?”

They had almost dissolved into giggles, anticipating their prank, but then Percy had stormed inside, looking as pompous as ever, chest puffed out and badge glinting in the dark, and it had taken them all they had to hold on their laughter, shushing each other, hands pressed down on their mouths hard to keep the noises in.

The laughter had faded, abruptly and painfully, when instead of a teacher, or a failed assignment, or… anything else, really, Fred and George peeked from behind the curtains to see… themselves.

It stopped being fun, then.

“Hey, Fred?”

It was a testament to how shaken they both were that George did not use nicknames. Fred still refused to look at him, even as they sat there in the dust, shoulders pressed together.

“… yeah?”

“Do you… are…” George fumbled with his words, and swallowed thickly, and lowered his voice. “Do you hate Percy?”

Fred’s neck snapped to the side, fist coming to grab George’s robe, forcing him to turn to look at him as well. “No!” it came out rushed like a hiss, urgent, like he needed his brother to believe it just as much as he did.

“I… I don’t, either.” George still looked pale. “He’s a bit of a ponce and he’s always stuck up and he never laughs–” he started listing off every reason he could think of, and Fred nodded along as he thought the same “–but I never hated him. It’s just. It’s fun to see him embarrassed.”

“Not like this, though.”

“… no.”

A few long seconds ticked by as the two remained silent, looking away from one another again. “Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you reckon Percy really believes that?” George’s hand tightened around the hem of his robes. “That we hate him?”

It was Fred’s turn to swallow the hard knot in his throat.

“No,” he said, but he was quite sure this one was a lie.

It could have been just the boggart doing its job, but it had to draw from something, right?

“We should go,” George finally said, looking uncomfortable and far too pale. “I don’t want to miss lunch.”

They shuffled out from behind the curtains, a spring to their steps as the cupboard rattled a bit at their proximity, and hurried out of the room, feeling for the first time a sense of loss at the result of their prank.

It stung. But… as they rushed down the corridor, matching each other’s pace, that weird, uncomfortable weight in Fred’s chest started to turn into anger.

“We’re not that mean,” he snapped, aware that George was looking at him now.

“No, we’re not.” But George seemed almost unconvinced, and it made the anger inside Fred’s chest grow.

“We’re not! We just poke fun and people laugh at our pranks! What’s it to him anyway? He never laughed a day in his life! So what if he thinks we hate him? We don’t! It’s not our fault he believes that stuff. If only he laughed a bit more and stopped taking things so seriously, we’d stop pranking him.”

“… yeah.”

“It’s his fault anyway.” Fred wanted to kick something, and he viciously wished for a moment to see Mrs Norris come snooping around him, just for that. “If he stopped being so boring and controlling and pompous we wouldn’t target him as much.”

George didn’t speak, but Fred didn’t need to hear his twin support his thoughts anyway as they rushed down one staircase.

“Lording his results over us like he’s such a genius when Bill aced all his exams without even studying. And prancing around like that badge means something, like it’s not just for show and to act like he’s better than us. Like he ever did anything for anyone while he was a Prefect other than take points away and give us detentions.”

Fred huffed. The boggart had mentioned Ginny, and while just minutes earlier he would never have agreed with it –because wasn’t it You-Know-Who’s fault? Wasn’t it because of a Dark object that Ginny had been used?– well, now he was thinking that maybe that creature had the right idea.

Percy had all the power, but he’d never done anything with it except act superior and bossy.

He opened his mouth to say so, upset and angry and needing a target to get those emotions out, but then he looked to the side and saw George’s face, and the words froze in his mouth.

George looked… haunted.

“What’s up with you?!” Fred stopped in the middle of the corridor, irrationally angry with his twin. “You can’t tell me you think it’s our fault? The boggart is just saying things because that’s what Percy is afraid of. Doesn’t mean its right!”

“Fred–”

“No!”

“But–”

“Can’t hear you over the noise of Percy being an arse!”

“Fred!” the urgency in George’s voice prompted Fred to finally stop walking, but the weird energy underneath his skin didn’t let him stand still and he gripped his arms, upset.

“What!”

“Doesn’t it bother you that he’s… hurt?”

Fred balked at that and shook his head. “It was just pranks. He’s just too sensitive. Even Charlie said so. Even mum.” And they’d spent quite a lot of time mocking Percy after Molly had said that to them once, years in the past, trying to get the twins to stop mocking him so much. Sensitive, yeah. They’d used that to poke fun at him even more.

“But…” the uncomfortable scrunch of George’s face grew tight. “Our pranks are fun. They’re meant to make people laugh. Not hurt.”

“As if you care about some Slytherin getting embarrassed in front of the school,” Fred scoffed. “Don’t tell me they don’t deserve to be taken down a peg or two.”

“Well, no, Slytherins are Slytherins, but this isn’t a Slytherin bully, Fred. That’s Percy.”

“Yes, our resident Perfect Prefect. Why does it suddenly bother you that stuck-up Percy might be–” ‘hurt,’ his mind said “– upset by our pranks? Isn’t that the point?”

“The point is that he never laughed, but I thought he knew we weren’t being mean to him. But that… didn’t that upset you, Fred?” George tugged on his sleeve, as if wanting to prod Fred into agreeing. Which he didn’t. “That was us. Telling… telling him we don’t love him. That we’d better off without him. And he looked…” George turned around, still pale, and so much upset Fred felt a twinge of worry for him. “He looked like it was nothing new. Like he was used to it and he was! We tell him off all the time!”

“That’s because–” Fred grasped for something, a reason, like… he’d always had reasons. Percy deserved it because he was pompous, and stuck-up, and a right prick, and he lorded over them and thought himself better, and, and… but he couldn’t think of something that would justify Percy being scared of them. He didn’t want Percy to be scared of them.

He hated this.

He hated that he knew something about Percy he never would have wanted to, and that it made him feel bad, weird things like guilt, and made him angry and upset.

With a grunt, the upset boiling over, Fred spun around, needing to get it out, and punched the wall.

He instantly regretted it, as pain flared up from his fingers up his arm, and he yelped.

Behind him, George spluttered, barking out a laugh. “Fred? What the hell was that for?”

Cradling his fist against his chest, as incredulous as his twin was, Fred hissed. “I thought it’d be a good idea!”

Snorting into his hand, George looked at him in mock pity. “I can see it, I really can. You’re always the one with the capital ideas. Like when you thought it’d be fun to put itchy powder in Filch’s office and the bag broke and fell all over you. Or–”

“Yes, yes, like you never have bad ideas!” the pain was already fading, and Fred waved his hand a bit, but the air between them had cleared, and he felt not as pissed as before, and one look into George’s face told him it was the same for him.

If he had to guess, punching a wall had done wonders for the awkwardness of their almost-confrontation.

“Listen, if it makes you feel better, we can… I dunno, take a break from pranking Percy for a bit. Just a bit though,” Fred hastened to add, knowing that this was the last year they could try their tentative new ‘products’ on him before he left the school forever. It might even make him relax enough they could pull something really big on him.

George was still smiling, though it was small and looked almost frail, and nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“I didn’t like seeing us say those things, Fred,” he finally confessed, looking right into his twin’s face. “Do we really look like that when we speak with him? So angry and hateful?”

Shoulders slumping, Fred looked away. He had no answer, but the denial stirring in his chest, rightful as it felt to him, grew thin.

He had not liked that either. They had looked so evil, so mean, so spiteful, and… he had never felt really like that, had he?

Was he really angry at Percy or was he angry at himself?

“Let’s go eat,” he mumbled, shoulders hunched up to his ears.

They were noticeably quiet for the rest of the way down, but as they approached the Great Hall, the heavy doors slammed open and a figure appeared.

Fred and George froze as their brother Percy rushed out, face so red and flustered the freckles on his face disappeared, and stumbled away from the Great Hall and towards them, faltering for a single moment as he looked up and saw them standing there, staring.

Percy’s face, crimson up to his ears and down his neck –typical Weasley, when they flushed they did it dramatically– suddenly paled, and Fred froze, unable to move, as he watched the shift of emotions on his brother’s face, from humiliation to anger to shame, settling to something almost like resignation before it all faded into an empty mask and he pushed past them, shoving Fred aside with his shoulder in his haste to leave.

Just then, for that one moment before he’d hidden it all away again, Percy had looked lost, and young. Fred felt like he’d just been punched in the guts.

Percy was not running, per se, but he did walk briskly away from them at a very harried pace, and never once did he turn around.

“What…”

Fred and George hesitated then moved on, steps even more hesitant, and entered the Great Hall, finding it louder than they’d expected.

Peeves was floating from table to table, cackling, and wherever he moved on he’d leave behind people laughing, though he made sure to steer away from the Professors’ table, where Professor McGonagall was staring at him with a steely, unimpressed look.

The moment Peeves saw Fred and George from the other side of the Hall, he yelped in delight and twirled towards them, only to stop right above them, batting his eyelashes at them and smirking so wide even Fred and George felt almost cowed.

“Oh, my favourite silly itty-bitty kids, yes you are, yes you are!” Peeves’ voice was so gleeful it was hard not to be worried. “I just wanted to congratulate you two for your amazing prank~”

Fred felt like he’d just been doused in ice.

“P-prank?” George’s voice sounded as weak as Fred felt.

“Oh, yes, yes, your fabulous prank! Hard not to be impressed!” the admiration on Peeves’ face stretched on his lips with manic glee. “Masterful, really. Couldn’t keep it to myself, not really, not when you went through so many loopy loops to get it done! The world deserved to know! So now, all Hogwarts does.”

Peeves rolled in mid-air and vanished through the ceiling, and Fred studiously avoided looking at his brother.

They had been quiet, the past couple days, focused on their one prank for Percy, so it could be nothing else, but–

“Oi, good job mates!” a void called out for them, coming from the table closest to them, that of Ravenclaw.

Fred looked over, recognising the face of the a Ravenclaw third year as he waved at them.

“Can’t believe you got your brother so good with a boggart! Good revenge for all the points the tosser took from me for wandering after curfew. Cheers!” he lifted a goblet of pumpkin juice at them, the thick liquid sploshing against his fingers, and downed it in one go, applauded by two of his seatmates, who looked just as enthused as he was.

George rushed forwards, wanting to get away from the yells of congratulations from the Ravenclaw table, and Fred followed him right after, though he almost stumbled over his own feet in his haste to leave.

They both could not deal with this –the shock had rendered them silent, faces pale and pinched, but as they passed by the other tables, they heard more students cheerfully congratulate them for yet another good prank.

Many laughed, clapping at them, and though not every face seemed equally pleased or happy –a few looked sour, or worried, or simply didn’t care– those who did shout out to them were enough that Fred felt a claw tighten painfully around his stomach.

The worst was the whistle coming from the Slytherin table –one of the older years, jeering, nodded at them in mock-respect, and Fred felt vaguely sick to recognise the Slytherin as the previous year’s sixth year prefect.

Except, Fred had to backtrack, the real worst happened when they reached the Gryffindor table.

Most students saw them approach and started clapping loudly, cheering for them. For the first time in what felt like forever, Fred felt nausea bubble up his chest at the realisation that he did not want their support. Not on this.

“Was Peeves right? Did you really sic a boggart at your own brother?” a couple kids from Ron’s year, eyes wide and smiles just as wide, leaned closer, tones almost hushed in awe.

“Were you really his boggart, then? Ponce is truly afraid of you, huh?” one of the older boys said, tone brimming with unexpected respect. “He had it coming, really. Gave me detention once with Filch!”

One of the girls in the twins’ year snorted. “McCormack, you punched a Slytherin into his cauldron!”

“Never mind the reason, it was with Filch!”

“Wish I had been there to see it!”

Fred and George shuffled down the table, ignoring the many high fives offered as they passed by, and slumped down to eat, though by then neither was hungry anymore.

“That was unnecessarily mean,” a familiar voice spoke up. “Boggarts can be dangerous when confronted alone, you know. Their power tends to grow and latch on a person’s magic, and if they don’t realise what’s happening, the boggart can leech the magic right out of your body. You two were lucky Percy dealt with it quickly, he could have been seriously hurt because of what you two did.”

Up until that moment, Fred had hated the congratulations –had hated that Peeves had told everyone about their prank, and that people had actually cheered them on. Any other prank, he would have expected nothing less, basked in the glory of a well-done job, laughed it off with pleasure. But George’s words from before, and the boggart’s mocking tone, all of it was swirling through his mind, faulting him for things he didn’t want to think about, accusing him of having being mean, of believing nobody liked Percy at all because of his own actions, and seeing people from all Houses, including Slytherin, come out to congratulate them for it, implicitly agreeing with their action…

It stung.

He had not meant to prove that Percy was disliked so much.

And then, as he looked up and right into Hermione’s face, her lips pressed thin in a displeased expression that so reminded him of Percy, Fred felt the guilt and the worry fade into indignation.

Having someone outright call their actions mean, faulting them for a prank gone wrong… it was one thing to talk it out with George –another to hear someone who was not part of it, not one of them, speak this way.

“Oh, come off Hermione,” Ron spoke before Fred could turn her words into a joke. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Hermione’s head snapped to the side, glaring at Ron. “Percy’s boggart was them! How is that not bad?”

Ron shoved a forkful of chicken in his mouth and chewed, expression cloudy, and wiped a trail of sauce from his chin with a piece of bread. It took him a few seconds before he could even talk. “It’s not like Percy’s boggart is all that special.” Fred and George stared at him, and Fred felt a sudden burst of righteous relief as his younger brother defended their actions. At least, until Ron continued, deadpan and absolutely serious, “The twins caused my boggart too. Boo hoo, so unique. Prat faced it in the end, didn’t he? Big deal.”

Fred felt the blood drain from his face again, and looking at George, he found that mirrored in his twin’s face.

Hermione’s anger melted slightly, her thunderous expression softening, though she still looked angry. “Ron…” then she shook her head. “But you didn’t have your fear mocked and exposed in the Great Hall, did you? Would you want everybody to laugh at you because you’re afraid of spiders?”

Ron’s ears grew burning red as he hunched over his meal. “Well…”

Trying to ignore Hermione’s words and Ron’s, Fred turned a little, only to catch Harry staring right at him with an unreadable expression.

Fred had always liked Harry –he was a nice kid, if a bit awkward and at times hesitant, he was fun to be around, and Fred had always felt like he fit right in with his family– but something in Harry’s gaze made Fred feel almost… judged.

Like Harry was reconsidering something about him and Fred was found lacking, all of sudden.

“It’s not fun,” Harry muttered, looking away from Fred, cheeks flushed in self-consciousness at his own words, “to be mocked about things you’re afraid of.”

With a jolt, Fred remembered that Harry had fainted on the train because of the Dementors, and that at school, he’d been mocked because of it.

Neville reached out to pat Harry on the shoulder from where he was sitting at his left, eyes flickering to the twins as if expecting them to jump on him at any moment; Fred hadn’t even noticed him sitting there, but felt a small knot of guilt at the thought that it had been Neville’s embarrassing situation with his own boggart that had sparked Fred and George’s idea.

People cheered for Neville’s boggart like he was some sort of hero, proof that Snape was a shitty professor and an even shittier person, but Neville seemed to struggle even with the smallest feats, and clearly did not think having a boggart professor was a good thing. By the way he was looking at them, wary and awkward, it did not seem to Fred that he thought them being a boggart was much better either.

“You, uh… you can’t help it. What you’re afraid of, I mean.” His words would have been more impactful if Neville’s voice hadn’t wavered and broke right in the middle of his sentence, but with them he seemed to have expended all his courage, because he cleared his throat and looked away, busying himself with his fish.

“You might not,” Hermione replied with a huff, “but those who caused it can, and should.”

She was talking about Fred and George as much as Snape, Fred thought, and that hurt, to know she was equating them to the greasy git of a professor like this. Like they were similar, like they were the same.

Face thunderous, Fred stabbed one of the potatoes he’d shovelled on his plate and gnawed down on it, only for someone to suddenly slap the back of his head, doing the same to George too.

“What the hell did you do?!” Ginny looked positively furious, and behind her, a kid from her class, smiling, snapped a photo of them, the light of his flash making dots blink whenever Fred blinked. “Did you two put Peeves up to do this?!”

“No, we didn’t!” upset, George waved a fork around “He went there on his own and we didn’t even know he was there.”

“At least!” Ginny didn’t look any calmer at that, though.

“Listen, Gin, we didn’t think it’d be that bad–”

“Oh, fat lot of good that did for Percy, and now the whole school’s laughing at him!”

“Why do you even care? You don’t even like the prat,” Ron told her around a mouthful of food, only to stiffen, eyes wide, when she whirled around to glare at him. “Alright, alright, I’m shutting up, jeez.”

“I want you two to fix this.” Turning to look at the twins once again, Ginny glared them down into submission, so similar to their mother in that moment that it cowed them accordingly.

Only for a moment, though.

Fred rolled his eyes. “How do you think we can fix this, Gin? It’ll blow over. Just let them talk, until next time someone does anything interesting–”

“–and that someone will be us.” George winked at her, but she didn’t look like she agreed.

“Ugh! Brothers! You’re lucky I won’t write mum about this!”

Fred and George both blinked and said together, “You won’t?”

Her mutinous expression soured further. “I think he’d feel worse, and you’d make mum sad.” She let them think about that for a second before adding, her tone forceful again, “so you’d better think a lot about this and how you plan on making it better. Okay?”

And without giving them as much as a word in, Ginny turned around and stormed away, muttering about how she didn’t want to be around them, the other Gryffindor kid following her like a happy pup, camera roll full of pictures.

The conversation left Fred feeling worse than before –Ginny had hit a nerve, and Fred hated this even more.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by a presence walking behind him, pausing for a moment, and Fred braced himself for yet another person congratulating him and George.

Instead, a familiar, rough hand fell on his shoulder, and on George’s, and Oliver Wood leaned down in the space between them. Fred felt the hand tighten, almost painfully, on his shoulder. He winced.

“Oliver!” Harry waved at him, some of his normal cheerfulness coming back. “Quidditch training soon?”

“Hullo Harry!” Oliver flashed him a smile, toothy and pleased. “Soon, yes! Look forwards to it, I’ve got some new ideas to implement for this year! The last year we can get the Quidditch Cup!” then, the smile shifted. It was just as wide, just as bright, but something in it felt wrong. “Of course, I think that my best beaters might need a little more than that. What do you say, Fred, George?”

Wrong footed about the edge in Oliver’s tone, Fred shrugged. “Well–”

“Fantastic, fantastic! Knew you’d see it my way. See you tomorrow morning at five then, fresh and bright early enough for it to count! Don’t forget your gloves, Weasleys! We’ve got a lot to do!”

He slapped both Fred and George’s backs, and anyone would have said it to be companionable, except… Fred was not sure why, but Oliver’s eyes were rather cold. He watched as their captain turned around, a niggling worry settling in his stomach.

“Oh, hello Professor,” Oliver waved as he moved back to his seat again.

“Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,” the voice of their new Defense professor had both of them look up in a flash. His voice was soft, but his tone seemed to command attention. Fred had a second to worry about a possible detention before he reminded himself that what they’d done didn’t even warrant a warning, not really. “I would be pleased if you could pass by my office when you’re done with your lunch.”

“Uh… sure?” George offered, just as baffled as Fred was.

“Thank you.” Professor Lupin regarded them for a second, eyes taking a glossy quality before he spoke again. “On that note… where did you find the boggart?”

Fred’s throat constricted and he looked away, so George answered instead. “Third floor, end of the left wing.”

“My thanks.”

Professor Lupin’s eyes flickered towards Harry for a second before they set on Neville. “If any of you requires my expertise, my door is always open.”

Though the offer seemed to have been directed at Neville specifically, it was Hermione the one who appeared more interested, and they all looked at the professor as he left the Great Hall, shabby robes fluttering around his thin body.

“Wonder why he wants to see you,” Ron muttered, eating his way through his second plate of roasted potatoes. “Wager he wants to lecture you? Boggart’s his territory, after all.”

Fred shrugged, affecting nonchalance, but his eyes were unfocused as he started pushing his food around the plate.

He did not look forwards to that meeting.

***

Percy’s hands were shaking, and he could not stop it, and he hated it.

He hated not having control of things, and that included his own emotions. It was why he’d ran from the Great Hall, rather than have to face so many eyes watching him, judging him, mocking him.

Who else had their own brothers as a boggart? Nobody –not for stupid reasons like his own, at any rate.

Percy had taken some time to breathe in an abandoned classroom, only to have to leave and go to his next class –last year, NEWTs year, he could not skip, he would have gone even with a fever, really– and face the scorn of his classmates.

The Ancient Runes professor had said nothing, of course, professional and curt, had started her class right away without caring for the murmurs and mutters of the class, but Percy had seen with the corner of an eye most of his classmates point at him and snicker, and he’d blushed up to his ears in shame.

Peeves had not recounted the entirety of his meeting with the boggart, but had picked a few choice moments, thankfully not speaking about Ginny and the diary, sparing her at least that much spotlight. Still, there had been enough in his retelling that most of the school knew Percival Ignatius Weasley’s boggart was his younger brothers, who’d told him in no uncertain terms that they hate him and wished him to be gone… a sentiment a lot of people at school shared with them, considering how many times Percy had docked points or assigned detention to people without discrimination.

He’d tried to concentrate on classwork, but he’d found his focus lacking, displeased and still on edge, until Oliver, sitting as usual at his side, had gently elbowed him with an understanding smile in silent support before casting a mild stinging hex towards the loudest of their classmates.

At least, his friend had his back, Percy thought, even if he did not like the thought of Oliver hexing others during class for him. Still, the thought mattered, and his mood lifted long enough for the class to end.

Unfortunately, next class he did not have Oliver, and that was why he was hiding in a corner of the upper floor, right behind a particularly big statue of a hippogriff, hoping no one had Divination anytime soon.

Percy knew he’d need to calm down for his last class of the day, but it was easier said than done, when the anger bubbling inside his chest refused to leave.

It was one thing to face a boggart –he’d felt much more calm when confronted with the fact that the twins were not real, and merely his subconscious stupidly thinking they were something to be scared of– and another to realise that his ‘fear’ had been broadcasted to the entire Castle at lunch time, and that many of his year-mates, and even more people from other years, agreed with the boggart.

What hurt the most –and maybe he should have expected that, considering his track record– was that he’d glanced up at the Professors’ table, hoping for… not quite some help, but an acknowledgement, perhaps, an attempt to stop Peeves from spreading the tale further, and instead he’d found most of the faculty chuckling.

Professor Sprout had been smiling –the barest trace on her lips, true, but it had been there, and the chastised look flashing past her face when she’d noticed him staring had stung.

Professor Snape hadn’t even bothered looking guilty, the smirk on his lips wide and sharp, and even Headmaster Dumbledore had been smiling under his beard, hiding it behind his goblet of pumpkin juice.

They’d all considered it funny. Perhaps, it was just Percy who thought it was wrong. Perhaps he was simply too sensitive, like his mother often said.

It was shameful.

Even adults –and wasn’t he supposed to be one, as well? Soon, so very soon– had thought the tale to be funny. Had laughed at him.

What did that say of Percy’s seven years at Hogwarts, that he had left no particular trace of him except as someone worth mocking?

At least professor McGonagall had looked murderous, and her expression was enough to curb her colleagues’ reactions. It gave him strength, to know that it wasn’t just him, that he was right to feel upset.

He sighed, hiding his face in one hand. The year had barely started and Percy already wished he could fast-forward to his end-of-the-year NEWTs, just so he could escape the pressure and the embarrassment.

“You are quite noisy, you know.”

Startled, Percy’s head snapped up. He hadn’t expected anyone to be here, but here it was–

“Lovegood?” startled as he was by her presence, Percy blinked.

Luna Lovegood had once been one of Ginny’s childhood friends, as the Lovegoods lived rather close to Ottery St Catchpole and the two girls had grown up playing together, but after the unfortunate end of Luna’s mother, which had been difficult on both her and her father, Xenophilius, they had grown apart, and Percy could not remember them hanging out even now at Hogwarts.

If they had, perhaps Ginny would have felt less scared to be alone at Hogwarts.

It was no fault of his, but he still felt a jolt of guilt –Luna had recently lost her mother in a tragic, violent accident, yet instead of being welcomed in the Weasley’s household, as he knew his mother would have done normally, she’d pulled back, and now he could barely remember anything Luna liked.

“I know it is very proper of you to call me by my surname, but it’s alright if you call me Luna, Mr Weasley,” Luna looked serious, but Percy noticed her lip twitch in an attempt to hide a smile, and snorted, straightening up a bit.

“Please, if I can call you Luna, you shouldn’t call me mister. That would be my father.” He affected a pompous, overly polite tone, and was rewarded by a bright smile as Luna shifted her weight and looked at him, eyes wide.

“Indeed. Two different people, and you’re the only one who’s attracting Wrackspurts. Your father never has any around him.” She sounded like her words were meant to ring a bell, but Percy had no idea what she was talking about.

“I… alright?”

Luna continued to speak, her eyes never leaving his. “It’s why you’re so loud, I think. Broadcasting all over the school so they fight it out with the Nargles makes it difficult to think. It’s hard to let the thoughts go, but better they be free than for them to become a feast for the Nargles. They eat a lot, and they become heavier, and harder to push away.”

Shaking his head, left with the feeling that he would never understand what Luna was talking about, Percy nonetheless felt the need to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll endeavour to…” he fumbled, unsure what to say, but Luna nodded at him.

“That is quite alright.” Luna told him, the serious expression on her young face making her look cute. “It is not your fault. Once things have calmed down, the Nargles will also leave, and things will be quieter.”

Suddenly reminded of his situation, Percy stiffened, and then watched as Luna –tiny and small, just like Ginny, but taking even less space than his sister did– sat by his side, not close enough to touch him but enough for him to feel her there, a small comforting bundle half his size.

He almost felt awkward, but a part of him still remembered the summers spent looking after her and Ginny, trying to get the two of them to sit still long enough for him to tell them a story or teach them all the things he found interesting –and he still remembered how Luna had listened, eyes round and wide and interested, asking  him lots of weird questions while Ginny got bored quickly and tugged her friend away, showing Percy her tongue before the two ran to Ginny’s room to play pretend.

If Percy ever wanted to, he’d have years of blackmail about Ginny’s playtime, especially when she played the part of ‘Mrs Ginny Potter’ to a bemused Luna playing the officiant of a wedding.

It was hard to feel bad for himself when he had to stifle a small laugh.

“The Nargles will leave,” Luna murmured, wriggling her toes without glancing at him. “Sometimes it takes a while, because people love to talk and they love it even more when they get to talk about people not like them, but they will. And it seems you are quite a reasonable person, Percy Weasley.”

Smiling down at the little second year, Percy shook his head. “I think being reasonable is one of the things they fault me for, I fear.”

“Well then, that’s their loss, isn’t it? Just because you know what you want and work for it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

Luna sounded so sure of herself, so convinced despite it being years since they’d even seen each other –and even then, they had rarely had much to say to one another, since Luna wasn’t Percy’s friend– that Percy couldn’t help but be amused, though her presence had, in fact, cheered him enough that he found himself saying “Sneaking cookies to you and Ginny behind Mum’s back really made that much of an impression on you, hmm?”

Luna’s laughter was open and loud, and familiar enough to send a pang of melancholy down Percy’s back. “Yes, it was definitely the cookies.” She wriggled her toes again, stretching her legs in front of her, and looked up at Percy with a wide, happy smile.

He’d not expected that talking with her would make him feel better, but she’d managed to make him focus on something else, and… it had helped.

Then, Percy finally got a good look at her, and something clicked, and he frowned. “Luna?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you barefoot?”

Luna blinked, smile fading into a vacant expression that Percy did not quite like. “Oh, uhm… I had some problems with Wrackspurts as well, it seems. They tend to make my shoes vanish. And my socks. And my books, and the quills, and the spare parchment… I spend a lot of time searching for them around, and sometimes I get to my common room late.”

It took a moment for Percy to understand what she was talking about –the mention of Wrackspurts still confused him greatly– but once he did, a wave of righteousness flared within him.

Her being here, in the quietest part of the castle, without shoes on, and now that he looked at her, also without her outer robe–

“Well then. That will not do. We will have to fix this.”

A blink, slow and unsure. “Oh, you shouldn’t bother, they usually come back by themselves, or I find them around the castle, or…”

“I am the Head Boy, Luna. It is my job to hunt down the, uh, Wrackspurts, and demand your possessions back.”

Her face lit up in understanding and a bit of excitement, which baffled Percy. “Oh! Like a quest?”

Despite himself, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. In a way, he’d forgotten how you could make little adventures out of everything, when you were young. It had been forever since he’d done it. “Why, yes,” he said, puffing his chest out and lifting his nose a bit. “A quest.”

“I should have guessed it would be,” Luna murmured to herself, seemingly pleased. “Sir Percival, right?”

The smile grew a little bit more, the remaining parts of his bad mood lessening. “At your service,” he said.

Holding out his hand for her, Percy helped Luna stand up, waiting patiently for her to pat her dusty robes down, and assumed his best Head Boy serious face.

“Ready, miss Luna?” he asked, and was rewarded with a bright smile.

“Ready, Sir Percival!”

As he walked Luna down from the tower, keeping an eye out for anything that looked like it didn’t belong, Percy felt a little bit lighter. He did not quite feel better, but he had to admit that having a goal did wonders to make him forget about the boggart and the shameful pointing at lunchtime.

For the first time since that morning, Percy felt like he could leave that experience behind.

***

“Please enter and close the door, Mr and Mr Weasley.”

Professor Lupin was not at his desk when Fred and George entered his office; he was standing by the window, looking outside to the Quidditch pitch, but he turned around right away to welcome them in, looking friendly and kind.

The twins did not have much experience with the new teacher –they’d only ever had one class with him so far, though it had been fun, so they were still wary around him, getting to know his buttons and limits as they had with every other Defense teacher so far.

They’d also never been to his office before, so they glanced around curiously, amused to see a cage with a small swarm of Doxies hanging from the ceiling. As Fred and George stepped inside, eyes glued on the many interesting things and objects they saw everywhere, the Doxies started to hum, agitated by the increasing number of Wizards in the room.

“You wanted to see us?” George asked.

“Yes. Please do sit down. Do you want some tea? Biscuits?” Professor Lupin motioned for the two to get comfortable, and though neither of them accepted any tea, they did grab a few of the biscuits –no one in their right mind rejected sweets, after all.

Fred swallowed three right away, but George could only nibble on one, waiting for the other shoe to drop, glancing up at the professor and down at his biscuits, though as the seconds ticked by, it appeared professor Lupin was more than content with sugaring his tea and sipping it rather than talk, until both Fred and George, who disliked standing still for too long, started to squirm.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Lupin finally asked, looking mildly at them from over the curve of his own teacup.

Fred shrugged, attempting to look casual and at ease, but George, who knew his twin as well as the back of his own hand, could see that he was tense and attempting to hide it. “The boggart?”

Lupin looked weary, but kind, and there was a small smile on his lips that made George wonder whether he approved of the prank or not, regardless of the outcome. “As you know, boggarts fall under the many creatures I’m supposed to teach you over the course of seven years. By what I’ve been told, though, it appears my predecessors were rather lax in their actual teaching.”

George snorted. “The one we had in second year was alright,” he said, diplomatically.

They’d managed to pull a lot of pranks behind that teacher’s back, and at least the guy had known enough about magical creatures and spells that the twins had felt confident getting passing grades with minimal effort.

“As it might be, with the streak of… questionable teachers in the past, you can sympathise with me, having to fill rather large shoes.” Lupin smiled wryly at them, and Fred grinned back. “Not to mention, the position came with warnings.”

“Try not to die before the year’s over?” Fred asked, uncaring whether his words were too bold to ask to a professor, but he was rewarded with a chuckle, instead of a glare like he would have gotten from the likes of McGonagall.

“That was one of the first in the list yeah, but I was talking more about the infamous Weasley duo, actually.”

“We come as a warning?” George and Fred looked at one another in unrestrained, hushed awe.

“We truly hit big this year, Greg,” George whispered, pleased with himself.

“We might leave a legacy behind, Forge,” Fred answered in the same tone.

Lupin was staring at them with a small smile, the kind that George had seen on his parents whenever they were remembering things from the past, and he squirmed a bit, wondering what was Lupin thinking, when looking at them.

He did not have to wait much longer to find out.

“I’ve been told,” Lupin started, slowly, “to be wary of you two because you are far too brilliant, and spend all that on pranks. My colleagues had many words to describe you two, ‘pests’ being only one of many.”

“Pests, he says, Forge brother of mine,” Fred muttered, looking incredibly elated.

“Greg, pal, that’s probably dear old professor Snape, that is.”

“And Filch, never forget Filch.”

“How could I? The one block between us and the confiscated goods!”

“Pests indeed.”

Still looking amused, Lupin shook his head. “You were also called incredibly driven… to the wrong subjects.”

“Ohh, that must have been professor McGonagall then.”

“Always angry we didn’t get an Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration after seeing us transfigure the entire Slytherin table into a lion.”

“To be fair, it’s difficult to care about turning tables into cupboards or vases into toucans, no real application for that in our plans, after all.”

“Unless we can get the toucan in professor Trelawney’s class. Bet she wouldn’t see that in her crystal ball.”

They exchanged a proud smile, and were rewarded to hear Lupin cover a laugh of his own behind a cough.

“You know,” he spoke up, making sure they were both looking at him before continuing, “some people might not think it wise to plot for new pranks in front of the new teacher.”

“Oh don’t worry professor–”

“–we will keep you respectable and clueless–”

“–no need to show our hand so soon after the term started, after all.”

“That said,” George’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Were you a prankster too, professor?”

Lupin’s grin grew once again. “Well spotted, Mr Weasley.” The twins exchanged excited glances. “Minerva might be angry at me for admitting this to you in particular but yes, I was one.” For a moment, with the smile stretching on his lips and a faraway expression on his face, the professor looked younger, happier. “Though, just so you know, while I participated and thought up many pranks, I was not the main perpetrator, and during my fifth year I was selected as Prefect, and continued to be one for the next two years.”

“Prefect?” George couldn’t help the way his nose wrinkled in distaste.

It was true he wouldn’t have pegged this shabby, respectable –yet talented– professor as a prankster, but now that he knew of it, the idea that Lupin could be anything but a troublemaker made it hard for him to accept that he’d been a prefect, too.

“It might seem weird to you now, but it was a coveted position, and still is, if what you want is to be seen as trustworthy.” Lupin raised both hands to halt the incoming barrage of questions. “I enjoyed being one, even with the added workload.”

“But… why?” Fred looked almost disappointed, and George couldn’t understand how someone could give up pranking to be… a prefect. “Why make you a prefect when you were a prankster?”

“I could lie and say that it was because I was quiet and studious, and my teachers meant to reward me by allowing me a position of power, hoping it would steer me away from pranking,” Professor Lupin said, rubbing his chin and affecting a pensive look, “but the truth was, by giving me this responsibility they hoped I would be able to prevent my friends from going too far.” A beat, in which Fred and George looked at him in surprise, then Lupin continued “of course, I was quiet and studious, and I felt gratified by the trust I was offered. But ultimately, I was made Prefect because my friends, over the few years we spent at Hogwarts together, had become convinced they were invincible.”

George swallowed thickly.

Suddenly, he did not quite like where this story was going, but one look at Fred told him that his twin had not realised it, as Fred was still staring at Lupin in confusion.

“Were your friends pranksters too?”

“That they were. We were… rather infamous, during our time at Hogwarts. Enough that even after we left, they spoke of us for years. Si– one of my friends took that as his badge of honour.” Something raw and painful passed through Lupin’s face, too quickly for George to read. “As it was, they were happier than I was at me becoming a Prefect.”

Fred and George exchanged a small confused grimace. “Why would they?”

“They thought being prefect made me stay above the law, and used it to get preferential treatment. If I was patrolling, they knew I would not dock points. If I found them doing something… not quite allowed, I would look away, and sometimes help.” Lupin looked chagrined at this confession. “I was young and stupid, and I allowed my friends to use my position to get a free pass for their pranks.”

Fred’s eyes had grown large at that, realisation of just how much freedom one could get with a position he’d always thought was for prats like his brother, sticklers to rules.

“But,” Professor Lupin cut through Fred’s thoughts, “it did not last. A… concerned friend –though at the time we weren’t even friends… well, let’s just say she ripped into me for this attitude. You might not realise the sort of trust a teacher places on a student, but the power you are allowed to have over other students… it makes you feel wanted. For people who were never truly considered at home, or maybe those who felt they had no chance to stand up for themselves, being a Prefect offered that opportunity. I felt bad about betraying that trust, but I still did it.”

“Why?” George surprised himself speaking up.

“Because we were friends,” Professor Lupin replied, tone even. “Because I didn’t want my friends to abandon me once they realised I would not be helpful. Once they realised I didn’t bring anything to our friendship, I feared they would drop me and find someone better.”

“Rotten friends they would have been!” Fred scoffed.

Lupin shrugged, apparently unbothered by exposing truths about his past to two students. “At the time, I was shy and quiet, and never made many friends. They were important to me, and though they’d done more than enough to make me reassured about their friendship, I still doubted it. That was on me, of course, but when you’re a teenager, feelings are difficult, and sometimes they make you angry, and upset.”

“And then, what happened?” Fred tried to rush the story forwards and away from unwanted feelings, and George winced, wondering whether Fred was as ok as he seemed about the whole boggart scheme.

“They called me a wet blanket, of course, and whined and moaned for weeks after I told them I would dock points if I found them wandering after curfew.” Lupin smiled. “They still included me in pranks, but I felt like I had more freedom to say no, when I felt one was too much.”

“Too much?”

“Like, for example, when I thought the result would be hurtful, rather than fun.” Lupin leaned forwards. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

This time, both George and Fred squirmed uncomfortably.

There had been a few times in the past –not many, George rushed to comfort his own battered ego, not very many at all– where their prank had gone… sideways. Not wrong, never wrong, people still laughed! But… not as right as it should have been.

Still, consequences were different from the prank, so why should they feel at fault for it?

Yet, a part of George’s brain knew he was just giving himself empty excuses.

“Were…” his voice almost broke, but Fred pushed on nonetheless, “were many of your… their pranks too much?”

“More than I cared to admit. More than they realised, as well. None of my friends seemed to realise it at the time, and consequences were beneath them. If people got hurt, it didn’t matter –“because it was the wrong sort”, anyway. That’s what they used to say.”

George felt a rush of blood rise to his face, and he looked down at the biscuit in his hands so he would not meet Lupin’s eyes.

The wrong sort was usually Slytherin.

“Of course, part of it was my fault, even then. Just being excluded from certain pranks didn’t mean I didn’t know of them. I was still an accomplice, where I should have tried harder to stop them altogether.” Lupin sighed, and rubbed his face with one hand. He looked tired, more tired than should have been normal. “That is why I called you two here, today.”

And there it was –the actual truth that George had expected all along.

Surprising, he did not feel the urge to flee or fight back, as he would have had it happened any other time. He’d expected it, had prepared for it and part of him thought he deserved it.

At his side, Fred looked more mutinous, though.

Lupin regarded the two of them for a long time, and once again that got them to squirm, displeased with the silence. Fred jutted his chin out, mulishly, and George looked away, stuffing his mouth with a biscuit that now tasted like gravel.

Finally, Lupin sighed –a small, tired sound– and his shoulders slumped. “More than a decade later, and I still do not know how,” he said. “I wanted to do better this time because I see them in you –I see myself in you more than I’d care to admit, and it hurts to see the similarities. My friends learned, of course –they grew up, they mellowed down enough to be able to distinguish which pranks were good and which ones were no more than bullying, but it took them a huge mistake to start to see where they went wrong… and one more year and another big mistake for them to finally change. It was not painless, it was not fun, nor was it easy. I thought I would have some more time to guide you two down that path without anything big happening, and I overestimated you two. I thought it might not be needed.”

“Its about the boggart,” George said quietly.

Lupin nodded, looking almost apologetic, but not quite.

“Are you sorry about that?”

Fred and George exchanged moody stares with one another. “We didn’t want to really hurt him,” George muttered.

“Yes,” Lupin pressed on. “But I asked if you’re sorry about sending your brother to face a boggart alone.”

Fred and George did not look at one another. “We didn’t mean for it to go that far.” And that –the avoidance– was answer enough.

“What about Peeves? Did you two tell him to spread around the prank?”

“No!” this time, the answer was instantaneous, not defensive, but honest. “We didn’t know he was there!”

“So… are you sorry about  that part?”

Fred shrugged. “Well, that’s not our fault, is it? We didn’t know Peeves would be there–”

“–but we’re sorry he told everyone about Percy’s boggart, yes.” George finished, uncomfortable.

Lupin nodded, expression unreadable. “Are you sorry that Peeves told the entire school about your brother’s fear,” he continued on, merciless, “or are you sorry he told everyone that you two were his fear?”

George blinked, opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again.

The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about Percy at all. Yes, he’d felt bad at watching a version of him tell Percy off so thoroughly, and he didn’t want his older brother to think they hated him, but… it had felt wrong, and bad, and stupid of Percy to have them as his fear. And then he’d been even more upset, afterwards, at the thought that people would think them mean.

There was more to them than pranks, but they weren’t evil –but the boggart… the comparison with Snape…

They could be accused of being bullies, but that wasn’t right.

George felt upset for Percy believing they hated him enough, but he was more upset that Percy and everyone else would think them bullies for it, when it was just a mistake.

It wasn’t about Percy at all.

They were all wrong. Fred and George only ever did things for fun. For a laugh.

And people had laughed at Percy. They’d been happy Fred and George had humiliated him again. He’d found out that a lot more people felt attacked by Percy the Prefect, but if George had to be fair, many of the complaints he’d heard while at lunch had been sort of… empty and biased.

Percy was a stickler for rules, but he wasn’t abusing his powers. He might be too strict, but that didn’t mean he deserved that much scorn… at least not from people who weren’t family, since it was ok to poke and make fun of one another when you’re family.

Though, George thought with an uncomfortable self-awareness, Percy had never retaliated. He just… received. If he got angry and tried to chase them for detention, well. That was part of his job, wasn’t it? That Fred and George evaded and avoided him was part of the fun.

He didn’t like to think about how Percy might not agree with him on that.

“If Mr Weasley… Percy, if Percy’s fear had been anything else –a bear, a teacher, a mummy, anything. Would you have been sorry at all?” Lupin pressed on, not allowing George to think too much.

Again, the answer that surged to his lips surprised George. He was… sorry… that Percy got hurt, yes, and that Peeves had snitched about it, but he still thought the prank had been worth it.

He’d thought it’d just provide some more fodder for their Percy blackmail. That they were Percy’s fear… that Peeves had seen it all and thought to share with the entire Great Hall… they hadn’t meant for it to happen.

A part of George still felt like it wasn’t his fault to begin with –it wasn’t like they’d known, after all, it wasn’t like they knew Peeves had been there, invisible, or that Percy would think…

If Percy’s fear had been something stupid, Fred and George would have laughed together with the rest of the school. No one would have thought they were evil, or mean. It would have been a funny prank.

Funny.

Except, George’s traitorous mind whispered, not funny for Percy. It was never funny for Percy.

“No,” Fred spit out, and he looked pale and furious. “But it doesn’t matter because he was– because he got hurt, and what we meant is meaningless.”

George knew better than to think Fred was angry at professor Lupin, or even Percy. Fred was angry at himself, because he hated disappointments, and this time he’d disappointed himself. George could relate.

Lupin had made them confront something they didn’t want to see, and George felt like it was too much.

“Indeed.” Lupin’s word was as final as the last nail on a coffin. “Boys, you are standing at a crossroad. You can push forwards through this like you would do any other prank, accept detention–” Fred made a startled, upset sound “–and not think about it…”

“… or?” George asked, ignoring his twin’s small glare.

“Or you can learn from this.”

“Not to pull pranks without thinking who might get hurt?”

“That, yes, but not just that.” And by the way Lupin looked at him, George knew Lupin was aware George was just stalling.

“…” George knew what was being expected of him, and he did not like it, not one bit.

But he owed it to Percy, didn’t he? And himself. And…

“Mr Weasley?” Lupin coaxed him.

“I–”

“Why would we even get detention?” Fred interrupted. Whether he did so to prevent George from saying what they both didn’t want to address, or because the thought of detention rattled him, he did not know.

“You did send your brother off alone to face a dangerous magical creature, Mr Weasley, no matter your feelings on the matter. He could have been hurt, and just because he was competent enough to keep himself calm does not discount the fact that you did so knowingly.”

“… yes, professor.” Fred still looked upset, but the fact that he accepted the future detention with just that said enough about his emotional state. Fred had tried to defend himself, but he knew they’d done something wrong, even if he didn’t have to like it.

They always accepted detentions they knew they deserved, after all.

“We have to say sorry to Percy,” George finally finished. He could be a Gryffindor and say what needed to be said.

“Would you mean it, or would it be just an empty gesture, gentlemen?” Lupin looked down at them both, eyes serious.

“I…” George squirmed once again.

Lupin seemed to be fond of questions that George didn’t like the answers of.

He seemed to realise he needed to push some more. “Let me ask you something else, then. It might make answering this easier. Why did you target your brother with this prank?”

“I dunno,” George shrugged. “He seemed like the best option.”

“Brotherly rivalry is understandable, but you know you were in the wrong. Has it happened before? Clearly, none of your pranks against your brother had such visible consequences, but he had to have felt singled out by you.”

“Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!” defensive and angry, Fred hissed and hunched his shoulders, and to George’s eyes he looked like a cornered beast. “Percy’s got a stick up his arse, we just wanted to get him to loosen up!”

“By… relentlessly targeting him both here and at home, enough to cause his boggart to take your shape?”

Fred winced, chastised. They hadn’t meant for it to be that bad. “No, it was just for fun, we–”

“He was still hurt. I understand it’s easier to think you can do anything, as long as you two have fun, but it’s not how it works. The people you hurt won’t suddenly feel better if you tell them you just wanted to have a laugh. Empty apologies only make resentment fester. You did not choose for the boggart story to be revealed to the school, but you were the ones who decided your brother deserved it, the ones who would have laughed, had his fear been anything else. You picked him and chose to disregard the dangers of sending your older brother off to face a dark creature.”

George flinched at that.

“Why did he deserve it?” Professor Lupin asked, his voice dropping an octave.

And once again, George and Fred could not answer –all their carefully considered reasons failed one by one.

“Was it because he took the teacher’s side, when he became a prefect? Were you angry he didn’t look the other way?”

“Nah. That’s normal for him. He takes rules too seriously. He’s always been like that, since we were little.” George meant for his tone to be flippant, but it fell flat.

He couldn’t really remember a time when Percy had sided with them. It was the reason why they’d started to harass him more –because he always prevented them from having fun. If they couldn’t have fun, then why would Percy deserve to?

Thinking back, he could see Percy had tried, and sometimes failed, to be protective of them. Now, George could see how some of the things they’d wanted to do could be dangerous, how some had ended… not as well as they’d thought they would.

Had it been Percy’s fault, then, if he wanted to keep them safe?

Why had George only started thinking about it now, instead of… any other time?

“Were you jealous, then?”

“Why would we be jealous? He’s just a bookworm who thinks himself better than us just because he made Prefect!”

“Is he not allowed to?”

Startled, George and Fred exchanged a confused look. “Is he not…?”

“When you win a Quidditch game, don’t you celebrate the win and receive compliments for it? If you do something nice, don’t you want everybody else to know about it? What about your best pranks? Don’t they make you want to boast? So what makes your accomplishments better than his? Is that just because its yours, and not his?”

The words stung so much George reacted physically, head snapping backwards in shock.

He had… honestly, he’d never thought about it.

It was just normal, poking fun at everything Percy did because he came to them thinking it’d be something they would care about. It was just the way it had always been, with Percy trying to make himself sound special, perfect, and good, and them shooting him down.

Every time, without fail.

Though at first he would always compliment the twins for things they didn’t care about either, like a rare good essay or result, he’d stopped doing that recently…

George looked down at his hands. His first instinct was to deny it –deny that it was his, and Fred’s, fault, deny that they’d been the ones to make things derail so much, deny that they were the cause of Percy’s pain, but… but.

But.

It had been fun because it was just a thing they did. And their father sometimes laughed too, hid a smile while trying to chastise them, brushing off Percy’s accomplishments easily because the twins distracted him, time and time again.

Because it was such a fun game to do it, when Percy left in defeat when nobody would give him the time of the day aside for mum.

He’d taken pleasure in making fun of Percy. He hadn’t even considered how mean that would be, because why would it be mean? Why would it be bad when it was done to that prat?

And now that he had to face that, with no excuse he could use to hide from the truth, it stung.

Why hadn’t he thought about it before?

“We’re rotten,” he breathed out, eyes wide.

Fred’s eyes snapped to him, a furious expression taking over his face. “We aren’t!”

“Aren’t we?” George reached out for Fred’s sleeve, tugging at it. “We turned making fun of him to an art because it’s fun, but it’s never been fun for him, Fred. Wouldn’t you feel the same, if someone made you feel like you never do anything right every day, every week, for years? We did this.”

George swallowed down the knot in his throat, feeling a swell of panic rise in its place. It hadn’t been just him and Fred –it was their dad laughing along, it was Ron and Ginny joining in, calling Percy out, though not as much as the twins did.

It was that Percy hadn’t had anyone in his corner aside for their mum, and even with her, she often only gave a token protest before letting them continue, brushing it off because… because the twins never listened, anyway. She hadn’t thought it to be bad either, because she hadn’t known the extent of all the teasing.

It was their normal.

He felt Lupin kneel in front of him, face worried but understanding, placing one hand delicately on George’s shoulder. The touch was almost too much, wanting to be comforted but feeling like he didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t make himself shake it off.

“It’s alright,” Lupin murmured, soothingly. George wanted to scream that it was not, how could it be alright? And Lupin sighed, recognizing something in his face. “Well, it’s not alright yet, but you figured it out, did you?” still unable to speak, George nodded. “So you can fix this.”

“How…?” George’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper.

Lupin looked apologetic at that. “I think I can’t help with that. You need to find the right answer on your own.”

George nodded mutely, accepting it as truth.

Fred slumped down, one arm slung over George’s shoulder. He looked troubled, and probably as scared as George felt, but also determined. “At least we’re doing it together,” he grumbled, upset but unwilling to broadcast it, even if it was just them and the professor. “Two halves make a good damn brain.”

Startled by the joke, George snickered. He was glad that even though he felt like the worst person possible, he still had Fred by his side.

“I want to say one more thing, and after that you can leave, I think I gave you enough to think about,” Lupin nodded to himself. “Don’t take this as one old man trying to brush off what you’re feeling, or justify your actions just because of that, but… you’re still so very young. Just like I was, like my friends were. And you made mistakes, like we did. But you have time to fix it and get better and rise from that. And if you still need guidance, I’m a professor now, I think I qualify.”

“What if we wanted guidance on better pranks?” George had meant it as a light-hearted joke, prankster to prankster, but then he thought better of it. Professor Lupin had said he’d had his fair share of experience in dealing with bad pranks –he would surely know which could hurt and which would not.

“Well then, as long as it’s nothing illegal,” Lupin jutted his nose up, but then winked at them, expression open and bright, and both Fred and George found themselves smiling back.

Lupin was right –it might not be fixed right away, and Fred and George had a lot to think about, but they were feeling a little bit hopeful, now.

***

When Percy finally returned to the Gryffindor’s common room, it was a few minutes after curfew –though Head Boys and Prefects were allowed out at any time for patrols, of course.

The corridors, lit only with soft torches, were empty, and as far as Percy knew, no one was wandering around unchecked, other than the rest of the Prefects and the other Head Boys and Girls.

He’d remained just a little bit longer than necessary, as he did every other night, though this time his reasoning was not that he would find someone still out if he lingered, but that he did not want to face anyone back in the common room.

It had been a relief when he’d focused on helping Luna gather her possessions back, allowing his mind to stop obsessing over the boggart and Peeves telling the entire school about it, but once he’d done his job, taken Luna back to her common room and left her in the capable hands of Penelope –who had given him a look of understanding that had warmed him thoroughly– he had stalled further by going to speak with professor Flitwick.

The professor had been understanding and furious –he’d thought better of his own students, like any Head of the House would in a similar situation– and had promised Percy the situation would be dealt swiftly, though Percy had every intention to follow up by going to see Luna every now and then. If he hoped to get Ginny to go with him, he kept that thought to himself, knowing that it would take a miracle to have his sister listen to him.

After that, Percy had nothing else to do except go to his last class, and then–

–and then Oliver had kidnapped him before Percy could gather enough energy to go to the Great Hall for dinner, tugging his sleeve and leading him down to the kitchens for a kip instead.

It had been a welcome change, even though it was irregular to eat meals elsewhere, but as it was not strictly regulated by Hogwarts policy, Percy had been able to ignore the niggling feeling of guilt in the back of his mind and instead enjoyed his meal in silence while Oliver chatted at his side, mouth full of food and hands waving around as he spoke, house elves chittering around them, casting them quiet glances as they worked and cleaned.

Afterwards, Oliver had spent the rest of his evening dragging Percy with him, first down to the Quidditch pitch and then sneaking with him into the Prefect Bathroom, citing the need to wash away all the grime and sweat of training.

Weird as it was, Oliver’s presence had been welcome, and Percy almost felt melancholic –the last time they’d spent so much idle time together, they had both been second years.

Of course Oliver was no Prefect, so he’d left Percy be later that evening, and was probably sleeping by then, tucked into his bed, dreaming of Quidditch.

Hesitating in front of the Gryffindor entrance, Percy took a long, deep breath, aware that the Fat Lady was staring at him, disgruntled.

“Will you not go in, young man?” she asked after a while. “Some people would like to sleep, you know.”

“My apologies,” he murmured, sighing. Might as well go in, since he’d have to face people the next day anyway. “Fortuna Major.”

Fortunately for him, the common room appeared to be empty. The fire was lit but the seats by the fireplace were empty, and Percy considered the idea of sitting there for a while, warm up before going to bed.

The seventh years had all single rooms to themselves, allowing for increased autonomy and privacy, and while Percy wanted nothing more than some time free of expectations, his nerves were still a bit frazzled, and the thought of his empty room felt almost too cold, compared with the warmth of the fireplace in the common room.

As he turned around, deciding his bed was more appealing than the armchairs around the fire, Percy froze.

Fred and George were sitting on the steps leading to the seventh years’ bedrooms, looking tired but still awake, and staring right at him –though the moment they realised he was looking, both found other things more interesting than him.

Percy exhaled slowly.

“What are you doing still up?” his tone didn’t waver, but it was not his usual pompous, cool one. He sounded exhausted.

“We were waiting for you,” George muttered, keeping his voice down.

“Took you long enough,” Fred added, despondent, then winced at how harsh he’d sounded.

“Excuse me if I have actual duties to fulfil before bedtime.” Percy huffed, squaring his shoulders. “And those duties include reprimanding students for avoiding curfew.”

George snorted. “We’re in the common room though, not outside. You can’t really take points if we sit here instead of in our rooms.”

“I most definitely can, but I will not.” A beat “as long as you don’t give me a reason to.”

“What if we stay out here for a bit longer?” Fred said, looking almost nauseous. “What if we want to talk things out with our brother?”

That was enough to startle Percy.

He’d kept the usual distance between them, aware that the twins disliked having him too close and wanting to keep a respectful distance for his own benefit too, but he had not expected the almost contrite look he received from the twins.

Percy was instantly suspicious, shoulders tensing up in preparation for… whatever the twins had thought up.

“I would not know,” Percy edged. “Are you going to be difficult?”

Fred’s lips thinned. “When are we even–” George elbowed him hard, making him wince. “Ah, right. Never mind.”

Blinking in surprise, Percy reached up to remove his glasses and then rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was too late to try and make sense of Fred and George.

“Ten minutes,” he finally hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t you two have Potions first class tomorrow?”

Both Fred and George seemed startled he knew their timetable, and Percy fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Well, yes, but we also have special training with Oliver early on,” Fred said with a wince. They were late enough that even if they went to bed now, they’d get at most five hours of sleep.

Percy’s lips thinned. The surprise training sounded just like Oliver, but also he knew there hadn’t been one planned before now, which meant Oliver was probably trying to get some revenge for him.

Sweet, but unwarranted. Still, the thought counted.

“Even more reason to make this quick,” he said, in a no-nonsense tone.

Still, even after he’d given them time to talk, neither seemed willing to speak up first. They kept fidgeting and glancing at each other and at him, and Percy, aware of just how much they couldn’t stand being still, forced down a flare of annoyance. He was the oldest one, so he’d have, once again, to be the one to bridge through to them, for how little that usually seemed to help.

Merlin knew how the three of them were even brothers, considering how different they were.

“I assure you I had no idea Peeves was anywhere near the third floor corridor,” he said, attempting for his best cool, detached tone. That one always worked with the teachers, though a bit less with his fellow students. “Had I known, I would have made sure he wouldn’t tell.”

Fred and George seemed surprised enough. “Well, we know that. We didn’t want him to tell either!” Fred was the one who spoke up, looking almost eager. “We didn’t tell him to!”

“I know,” Percy frowned, not understanding why his brothers were trying to convince him. “You’d never want to be dragged in that situation and for people to think you’re going dark.”

The twins blinked in unison, looking as baffled as Percy felt. “Er…”

“Never mind that,” Percy made a small wave with his hand. “It’ll all blow over with your next prank anyway, and knowing you two, it will be something even bigger, so you’ll be alright. The gossip mill will sweep this one under the rug soon enough.” ‘Especially if Trelawney continues to bring her Gin during her fifth year classes,’ he added to himself, not wanting to say it out loud. Partaking in gossip was beneath him, even if as a Prefect he’d heard a lot of things. A lot.

It was George who spoke up next. “Aren’t you… upset?”

Feeling annoyed, Percy snorted. “All the school knows Peeves has zero respect for authority and cares just as little about privacy,” he said, jutting his chin up a bit. “You wouldn’t expect him to keep things quiet.”

“No, I mean– well, yes, for Peeves fessing everything up but, like, about… us?” the last word came out at a higher note than the rest, and George’s ears grew red in embarrassment.

Ah. Right.

Percy sighed, and motioned for the twins to follow him to the chairs near the fire. He did not feel equipped to deal with the mortifying ordeal of having to patch up Fred and George’s hurt feelings –especially not when he was this much involved– but it fell upon him to, anyway, as he was the oldest of the Weasley family at Hogwarts, and he did not fancy having to send an owl to his mother about this.

Part of him winced at the thought of the kind of howler she’d send, if he tried.

The twins followed him with identical expressions of confusion, plopping down on two armchairs while Percy sat down on one right in front of them. He took a few precious seconds to breathe and gather his thoughts together.

It was particularly unfair he had to be the one to walk them through this, but he would do it.

“I am aware it might have been a shock to find out my personal boggart took your form,” he started, trying to sound as unaffected and unbiased as possible, even though his own ears were now burning red, the heat spreading down to his neck, “but this is not about you. Boggart fears are not consciously created, and are born of a wizard’s feelings, but on a rational level, know I am not, nor was I ever, scared of you two.” He nodded to himself, proud of his steady wording.

The baffled looks did not disappear.

He frowned.

“I’m sure you feel rather bothered by it,” he added, clearing his throat, “but it will change nothing about anything. I will not shy away from taking points or assigning detentions as I have been doing this far. I am not afraid of you two, or your pranks. It was…” he bit down on his lower lip, attempting to keep his even tone. Expressing his feelings in the open had never been easy, and to the twins, at that? It felt worse than waiting for a result of an exam. “The circumstances made it so it would take your shape.”

Both twins’ baffled looks melted into frowns.

“You surely did not expect me to cower about this, or…?” the flare of indignation was back, fuelled by their lukewarm reaction, but Percy had never been good at emoting, or relating to his younger brothers.

How could he reassure them nothing was changed between them, if not with letting them know he’d still treat them the same?

“Percy,” George spoke again, sounding urgent, “your boggart was us.”

“Yes,” he said, trying not to show how upset he was, “but that changes nothing.”

“It changes everything!” Fred jolted up, standing in front of him, almost towering over Percy who was still sitting, then seemed to realise how it might have looked, paled considerably and took a step back.

“You shouldn’t–” Percy huffed. “Fred, for Merlin’s sake, sit down.” He dropped down instantly, and a part of Percy was impressed at being obeyed for once. It felt almost good, if not for the situation at hand. “I’m not afraid of you. I never was. I… have considered why my boggart took your form, but I’ve never been scared of you. Impressed by your inability to follow the rules, yes, wary of your constant pranks, yes. But never afraid.”

Instead of reassuring them, as he had hoped, Fred and George, if anything, looked even more agitated.

“Listen–”

“No! You listen for once!” George’s hands gripped tightly on the armchair, distraught enough to interrupt Percy, and it was surprising enough he shut up, eyes wide. “Percy, Merlin, we are your boggart! We harassed you enough that we’re the thing you want to avoid! And you still talk like nothing’s wrong? Are you for real?!”

Blinking in surprise, Percy shifted in his seat.

“It’s not that you’re afraid of us, but what the boggart said to you with our form! We know that! But it means you believe it! All the things it said –about us, about the family, about Ginny…”

Fred spoke up next, voice almost too quiet following George’s outburst. “The boggart said we hated you, and you said nothing back.”

It took a few seconds for Percy to understand –Peeves hadn’t said anything specific about the boggart encounter, but if Fred knew such specific detail, it meant he had been there.

Blood drained from Percy’s face.

“We didn’t mean to–” fumbling with himself, backtracking, Fred looked at George. “We thought it’d be something funny, you know, not… not–”

“You’re doing it again, Fred,” George murmured, and Fred promptly shut up, gritting his teeth.

Percy stared at them, the indignation fading back into the same humiliation he’d felt before.

“Are you here to gloat, then? I thought you would have been bothered because of what Peeves said –I thought you wanted a reassurance that I didn’t think badly of you after this, but are you truly just here to tell me you’ve seen it all and laugh at me?”

“No!” they both looked angry now, which was an improvement, because Percy felt angry as well.

He hadn’t thought this would be how he and his brothers would hash out their problems, openly in the common room where anyone could come down at any moment, but he guessed the boggart had been too much for all of them.

“We’re here to say sorry, you prat! You’re not making it easy.”

Percy blinked, feeling momentarily almost faint. “… sorry?”

“Yeah, that. Uh…” suddenly back to hesitant, the twins looked at one another again, taking strength in being together, and Percy felt a mix of annoyance, envy and warmth all at once. Being an older brother was tiring. “We’re sorry for the boggart, yes, and for treating you like shite for so long, because even though it was fun for us it wasn’t for you and that’s… bad.”

As far as apologies went, that was rather anticlimactic, but Percy knew his brothers enough to tell they were being earnest, even if confusing about it.

Somehow, the fact that the twins realised they’d been berks enough to face him and come clean about it, instead of denying it or brushing it off was… pleasant. He had to admit he wouldn’t have dreamed about it at all.

“I’m… glad,” he said, haltingly, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough when he saw Fred and George’s identical little grimaces. “I really am, you two. I know you meant well –or rather, I know it was not your intention to be mean about it, but it means a lot that you’ve thought about all of it and wanted to talk to me. I’ve been harsh on you a lot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you, even when you’re arseholes.”

Fred snorted. “Percy said arse,” he hissed to his brother, who looked as shocked as he was.

“Oh, come off it,” Percy huffed, not aware of how similar he’d sounded to Ron in that moment. “I’m seventeen. I can say arse.”

As the small, surprised grin faded, Fred looked still upset, though less than before. Things were not… better, but addressing the Erumpent in the room was a step in the right direction.

Just the fact that they’d said sorry was unprecedented, as the twins were as unapologetic as they were rambunctious.

A beat of silence, then George leaned forwards, just a bit. “We don’t… we don’t hate you, Perce.”

“I am rather aware,” Percy said, huffing.

“It wasn’t clear to us though.”

“What do you want me to even say? Sorry if seeing my boggart made you worried? Sorry that I don’t take words thrown at me in jest seriously when I know you’re just trying to get a rise out of me? Sorry I didn’t consider your feelings when I’m the one who gets mocked around the school for having his younger brothers make a joke of me at any turn?” still upset, Percy shook his head. “I’m the adult here. Or I will be soon. It is hard sometimes, but I have to be the better person.”

“You don’t have to, though. We know we fuck– we messed things up big time, Perce.” The look of self-awareness that passed through their faces was still surprising, but Percy was feeling tired and weary of everything.

“It’s nothing new,” he said, trying for his usual pompous tone. “I’m at the end of many of your jokes. I’m used to it.”

“Yes! And that’s the problem! We are the problem!”

“Your absurd lack of respect for rules is a–”

“No! It’s us! We hurt you! Not just today but like… all the time.” George was speaking urgently again, wanting Percy to understand. “It’s normal so we didn’t think about it, but Lupin–”

“Professor Lupin, George.”

“–Professor Lupin talked with us today and made us think and–”

“Did you just call him George?” Fred was looking serious, eyes narrowed, face still pale underneath all the freckles, and Percy sighed. If they continued to deviate from the point, they’d never get done.

(That he could say who was who was a secret he kept to himself. It was at times useful.)

“Faux-pas,” he said smoothly, waving one hand in the air. “Did you have a talk with Professor Lupin?”

Fred didn’t look convinced –he never did, whenever Percy had something to say, but he acquiesced, yet another surprise.

“Yeah. He was nice, but he said some things we had to think about. Like, like how sometimes we go too far with our pranks. Like with today. Just because we didn’t expect things to go…” he made a vague gesture with his arms “doesn’t mean we should have done it anyway. It was rotten of us to want you to face that creature alone, let alone your fears, even if it wasn’t us.”

“But it was,” George added. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Not even a Slytherin would,” Fred added, sounding so sincere, even when his frown deepened, that Percy felt his lips twitch upwards against his better judgement.

“Not even a Slytherin, you say?”

Defiant, the twins looked at him.

It felt like an impasse, because Percy had no idea what to say, and the twins were offering him nothing.

The idea of opening up, even a fraction, with his family made Percy feel like throwing up. That he would consider doing so with the twins was even worse –years of mistrust and wariness couldn’t be pushed to the side so easily, nor did he want to.

The status quo might have been against him, but it was… normal. Expected. He knew how to behave, then.

The weirdly subdued twins, the hesitance, the worry… it was more difficult to face.

How do you bridge years of estrangement in your own house in one day? One minute? One hour?

“I know you do not hate me,” he finally said, looking towards the fire. He did not admit that sometimes they made it hard to believe regardless, because it would have been too callous. “We are family. We love each other.” Fred looked ready to speak up so he continued, “but I also know you do not like me much.”

That shut him up.

“Yeah. But we don’t like it because we made up a Percy in our minds that was easy to dislike.” George muttered. Fred cast him what seemed to be an impressed glance, and even Percy felt a vague sense of wonderment at that.

“That sounds… incredibly insightful, George.”

“Sometimes I read books too, you know.”

“Yes, yes, like Quidditch Through the Ages and Fifty Charms for the Pranking Student,” Percy snorted, amused despite himself.

“Hey! Sometimes I also read the Fifteen Ingredients to Make Your Potion Misbehave, too. Can’t let Snape relax.”

Percy blinked, then he snorted, scoffing at himself for laughing a second later.

George smiled brightly. “Hah, you didn’t tell me to say Professor this time.”

“There are times that comes difficult for me as well,” Percy muttered to himself, for once not upholding the mask of perfect Prefect he kept around other students.

“Huh. Was that a joke, Perce?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you joking since… forever, I think.”

Percy’s lips grew thin in a small grimace. “Weird how life goes.”

They fell into an uneasy silence again, but this time it was Fred who spoke up.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted. “We like pulling pranks on you, but. I thought back about many of them and I realise they’re not funny. I… I don’t think I would feel angry if it was done to me, but we’re not the same, are we? You don’t think like I do.” Fred resolutely ignored Percy’s muttered ‘thank Merlin for that’. “But I know we treated you like shite, and I don’t know how to make it better. But I’m… we’re sorry. We’re sorry that you got hurt. I know you don’t want us to get hurt and you just want us to do better at school, and you get angry because we don’t really care–”

“You should, though. Hogwarts isn’t even a fraction of your entire life. I just. I worry you will not find life outside of the castle any easier if you don’t put down some work now.”

It was clear the twins didn’t quite agree with him, but Percy was seventeen, and the twins were just fifteen –kids still. It was difficult to admit this, but they had a while to go. He couldn’t treat them like he would people his age, or older. Even he, at times, felt more like a kid play-pretending than an almost adult, unprepared for life after Hogwarts.

So he understood.

He didn’t like it, didn’t like being the butt of the joke and never taken seriously, he wanted them to wise up and act more mature, but he… understood.

“We thought it was okay to tease an older brother, but we weren’t doing just that. We never did that with Bill or Charlie, and they would have fought back, too.”

“I was closer to you in age, and Bill and Charlie both left the house, so you think they are cooler.”

Fred snorted “Yeah but they are cooler.”

Percy rolled his eyes, though he didn’t mind agreeing. Bill and Charlie had always been someone to look up to for him, too.

“Still!” George pushed Fred to the side. “I don’t know how we can go and fix this, but we can try, right?”

Percy regarded them both for a second. “What do you want to do?”

“Uh… maybe get to know you better?”

That was a bit ridiculous, since they were his brothers, but Percy still understood their need to work things out, so he could not begrudge that to them. “Hello, I’m Percy Weasley, and I am a seventh year Hogwarts student” he said instead, and was rewarded by the twins mock-glaring at him.

“Not that stuff, you prat. Other stuff!”

“Like that I am a Head Boy and you two should have been in bed a while ago?”

“C’mon, you wouldn’t take points? After all this?” George pointed at himself and Fred.

“… no, I wouldn’t. Family matters appear to be an exception.”

Fred and George smiled brightly at him. There was still tension there, awkwardness they could not dispel with one single chat, and Percy’s feelings about the entire matter had not been untangled, but…

“But your earlier prank will still get you a detention.”

Instead of the enraged gasp he’d expected, Fred and George exchanged a look and shrugged. “Fair enough. We don’t complain about detentions we do deserve, and professor Lupin already said he’d give us one–”

“–and we can live with a little less sleep anyway.”

“I think you’ll regret saying this tomorrow morning,” he said instead, lips twisting in a small smile. “Oliver will not go easy on you two.”

That did make them gasp. “Oliver’s onto this too?”

Deadpan, Percy gave them both a look. “You do know we shared a dormitory for six years, right?”

“No? I mean, yes, but… I never thought that you two could be acquainted, let alone friends. All Oliver thinks about is Quidditch–”

“–and all you think about is rules. We didn’t think you’d have anything in common.”

A snort from the stairs leading to the seventh years’ bedrooms had all three Weasleys jolt. “Everybody says that and I don’t understand where it’s coming from.” Oliver glanced over at them, expression hard. “Are you all done?”

“Oliver!” Fred and George straightened their backs instantly.

“We are all done, yes,” Percy waved at Oliver. “I won’t keep them up any longer, don’t worry.”

What was as close to a manic grin appeared on Oliver’s face. “Oh, I don’t mind. Staying up all night before a training session might even make them more motivated! Adrenaline rush can be useful, so maybe we can make it a team effort, stay up until morning and–”

“No, thank you–”

“–I think it’s time for bed anyway, goodnight Perce–”

“–night Ollie!”

Bolting from the armchairs as one man, Fred and George dashed through the common room and towards the stairs to the fifth year dormitory, though they both hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Percy.

“We meant it,” George said, the same mulish expression as before making a comeback. “Things are not okay yet, but we’ll make them be.”

“I’m sure.” Still, Percy felt his lips twitch in a small relieved smile when his brothers finally disappeared, and he slumped on the armchair, feeling exhausted.

“Long day?” Oliver came to flop on the chair Fred had abandoned.

“You have no idea.”

“I actually might, I’ve been in the Great Hall too, y’know.”

“Yes, yes, forgive me if I thought you might have forgotten. After all, you never think about anything else except Quidditch.”

Oliver laughed out loud, clapping one hand on the armrest. “Man, okay that’s valid.” For a moment neither spoke. “I heard them say they were sorry. Think you can trust that commitment?”

“I honestly don’t know. They’ve always had their priorities right, and they’re not bad kids, it’s just… I wonder if it’ll stick, or if I will have to expect them to fall back to their usual behaviour in a few weeks.”

“I can always make sure the lesson sticks with a couple extra morning training sessions. I really do want to win the Cup this year!”

“You always do, Oliver.”

The insecurity, feeling like he had no idea whether the twins would make amends or not… Percy wondered if it’d be best for things to go back how they were, for them to ignore everything, if that’d be easier.

Oliver seemed to know where his brain was going, because he snorted. “No way, Perce. In case you forgot, all three of you are Gryffindors. If there’s something all of us are in this House, is stubborn.”

With a groan, exaggerated on purpose just to watch Oliver smirk at him, Percy agreed.

“You know,” he finally sad as he stood up, the two walking towards their respective bedrooms, “with a Dark Wizard on the loose and Dementors around the school, I wouldn’t have thought a boggart would be the most exciting thing to happen, and it’s just second week of term. I shudder to think what else this year will unravel.”

“If it ends with Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup, I think nothing else matters.”

.

*** Epilogue***

.

The knocking at his door had Lupin turn around from the window, the Quidditch Pitch silent and empty in the morning light.

He’d tried to stall as much as he could packing his things from the office, aware that this would be probably the last time he saw the castle in his life, and wanted to get a last look at a place that had given him so much happiness, not just in his childhood, but during his tenure as a professor too. Because of that, most of his things were still strewn all around the room, in a displeasing disarray, though he cared little about this, as it would take very little to get things cleaned.

“Enter,” he called out.

The door opened, and Percy Weasley poked his head in. “Did you want to see me, Professor?”

He looked a bit pale, and probably a bit too thin for his own good –but then again so did Lupin himself.

“Yes, I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure you would come.”

Percy swallowed a bit, then shook his head. “Why not?” he asked –not quite a challenge, not for a person like Percy, but enough haughtiness in his tone to make Lupin smile, just a bit.

“Please come in, Mr Weasley. Tea?” Lupin looked around, locating his tea kettle, and as he busied himself with boiling the water and preparing the cups, Percy sat in front of his desk.

He looked… not apprehensive or tense, just worried and wary.

“Mr Weasley,” Lupin turned around, levitating a cup of hot tea towards his student, “I want to make sure you know that nothing keeps you here. If you do not feel comfortable in my presence, or within this office on your own, you are free to leave. I will not hold it against you.”

Percy blinked slowly, watching the slow raise of the tea’s steam in the air, hands clutched around the warm cup, then jolted and looked up at him, shaking his head slowly.

“It would not do to follow barbaric, backwards beliefs rather than thinking with my own brain, professor.” His tone was even and steady, eyes looking right into Lupin’s ones, as if daring him to say something. “You have been probably the best Defense against the Dark Arts professor we’ve got, it will be a shame not to see you here for the younger years.”

“Well, it’s not like you’d be included. You’re getting ready to leave the castle forever, just as I am.”

“… indeed.”

“Mr Weasley,” Lupin straightened his back. “I do have a question for you. How’s your current relationship with your brothers?”

Percy looked incredibly young, sitting in the chair in front of him, sipping tea slowly with eyes darting everywhere in the room, but now Lupin could tell that Percy wasn’t worried or wary about him –he was antsy for other reasons. Still, as he was watching the young man closely, Lupin was able to catch the rush of various emotions flashing past his face –anticipation, worry, hesitance and acceptance all at once.

“I…” Percy fidgeted with his hands on his lap. “Things have been… different. They have refrained from targeting me in their pranks, mostly –and yes, sometimes they still do, but it’s… it’s smaller things, professor. Things that don’t really bother me.” When Lupin threw him a hard glance, Percy snorted. “I promise, it’s things that I can accept. Nothing that makes me feel… singled out. And we’ve been… talking more. I don’t think there will ever be perfect acceptance between me, Fred and George –but I think they know how much I care, and I’ve learned to read them better, and detect the hints that they do care for me as well. They have been trying to reach out, and I have tried to bridge the gap on this side as well. Perhaps this summer we might have some more time to talk. As a family. It’s not perfect, but… it’s us. It’s worth working for.”

“I am glad to hear that. I did not wish to prod too much during the year, and it was your last, so your primary focus was on your NEWTs, and these things take time –not to mention the whole…” Lupin shrugged, thinking about the Dementors, and Sirius Black, and Harry’s Patronus. “Tell me, Mr Weasley, what are your plans for the future?”

Looking a little more relaxed, Percy leaned forwards. “I, uh. I was planning to send a letter to the Ministry, possibly for an internship there.”

Lupin was not exactly fond of the Ministry, but there were many respectable jobs one could have there that did not infringe on people’s rights to exist, like the one Percy’s father had. “That sounds like a good start, Mr Weasley.”

Percy straightened his back. “It is. I plan on working hard and climb ranks. A good position would allow me some freedom, and I’m thinking about renting a flat in London, and send some of my paycheck home. I wish to do something that makes a difference there, you know?” Then, he licked his lips and looked down at his hands, awkward once again. “Professor Lupin, why did you ask for me?”

Lupin sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk. Not his anymore starting from later that day, but just for a bit longer, it was still his.

“I wanted to know how you were feeling. I am not sure whether you were, uh… informed about…” Lupin fumbled a bit, hoping someone had already seen fit to tell the young man in front of him what had happened to his ‘pet rat’, but by the quizzical look he received, it seemed it would fall upon him to do so. “Oh. It seems you were not informed. Mr Weasley, I think it would be better if you put the tea down.”

Percy did, looking worried, and Lupin took a deep breath and told him about Peter Pettigrew, making sure to impress upon him the fact that Sirius Black, perceived traitor and Death Eater, was in fact innocent, though with Pettigrew gone they could not prove it to the Minister.

Due to this, Dumbledore himself had asked all those in the know to keep the truth hidden, at least until they could find the traitor and bring him to justice, but Lupin had thought that, considering the circumstances, it would be a disservice not to reveal the truth to Percy Weasley as well, considering he’d had a Death Eater as a pet for something close to ten years.

As he recounted the entire thing from his point of view –Crookshanks sniffing the truth out and helping Sirius, Harry, Ron and Hermione going to the Whomping Willow, only skimming the details about Sirius’ Animagus form and the Time Turner being used to save both Sirius and Buckbeak, Lupin watched Percy’s expression grow more and more pained.

The paleness on Percy’s face made him look ghastly, freckles contrasting wildly with his white complexion by the time Lupin finished speaking.

“It… Scabbers…” Percy’s voice took on a whiny, high-pitched tone, and Lupin was grateful he’d placed a privacy spell earlier on, expecting a similar reaction. “He slept on my bed. With me. I had that rat sleep on my bed almost every night. I held him in my robes. I bathed with him there. I…”

Percy was starting to look a bit green, so Lupin wisely kept his distance but levitated a piece of chocolate to him, watching as Percy ate it with unsteady, shaky hands.

“Thank you, professor.” Voice still hesitant, Percy attempted to take control of his emotions. “I… I cannot say it was something I wanted to hear, but…” he shook his head. “I needed to know.”

“Do you believe it? Even though I have nothing to offer as proof, aside for my word, or maybe that of your brother and his friends?”

Swallowing thickly, Percy covered his mouth with one hand, taking deep, slow breaths. He looked worse than ever, enough that Lupin felt a wave of guilt at having revealed to him such horrid truth.

“Yes.” Closing his eyes for a moment, Percy struggled to compose himself. “It would favour you none, if this were a lie. I am… grateful. But I need a moment.”

There was revulsion in his expression, and Lupin gave him a bit of space by turning around and puttering with his kettle instead, not turning around even when he heard soft, unsteady huffs that he could only translate as Percy’s attempts not to cry in front of his professor.

“The man… the man that was…” a sniffle “the man that posed as my pet for this long… will he get caught?”

Lupin turned around, looking as Percy hastily rubbed at his red eyes with a corner of his sleeve. “We hope so, but the fact that he is an unregistered Animagus with such a subtle, small form will make it more difficult. There are some who will make an effort to look, but as we cannot come clean about the truth without having Si– Black imprisoned again, or even Kissed, makes the process even worse, as you might understand.”

The slumped shoulders told Lupin that as honest as his answer was, it was not enough to be reassuring.

“If it makes you feel better, the Headmaster does not think that Pettigrew will try to come back, not even for revenge. He’s always been a coward, so neither you nor your brother Ron will suffer any consequences from this.”

Percy’s nod was mechanic, so Lupin leaned behind his desk, resurfacing with a bundle in his hands.

“Still, I know that these things are… difficult to believe, and you might feel more comfortable if you had some physical aid that will make you sleep better. It was my fault Pettigrew ran –in my haste to reach the Whomping Willow, I forgot to take my dose of the Wolfbane potion, and that proved to be our downfall. So, I feel responsible about it.”

“It… it was not your fault professor.” Percy’s tone was low, but his eyes were hard as he looked up at Lupin. “You were… worried and scared. You were not thinking correctly. I know I wouldn’t have been able to think rationally in your situation either. You were… Black’s friend, were you?”

“I’d hope to still be as much, even after twelve years of distance.” Lupin’s lips twitched in a small grin. “Still, I felt the need to bring with me a, let’s say, goodwill token, so to speak. I have an acquaintance who breeds them, so I thought you wouldn’t mind hosting this little one.”

He leaned forwards, and tugged one edge of the blanket to the side, revealing a small head and a pair of intelligent green eyes that blinked lazily up at Percy.

Percy blinked back, so startled by the sight of the small half-kneazle that he had no words.

The little cat didn’t seem to mind, quietly sniffing the blanket, Lupin’s hands, then extending her little nose towards Percy before letting out the softest little meow and wriggling until she was almost out of the bundle, which prompted Percy into raising both hands to catch her as she jumped towards him.

“I… are you giving this to me?” Percy was fumbling with the little animal, almost frantic as he stared at the cat then up at Lupin, as if not believing the professor could do something like that. “I know nothing of how to take care of a cat–!”

“You’ll do just fine, Mr Weasley, and I think she’ll be quite useful to you. After all,” he added, lips twitching in a smile that was a little bit less kind, “cats, and half-kneazles, hunt rats.”

Freezing, Percy gave him one last glance before carefully petting the little cat. She was small still, her mother had just about finished weaning her, and his hand was almost bigger than her entire body. Even then, she batted playfully at his fingers before headbutting them, a soft purring sound filling the air as she did so.

“I… thank you.” Percy looked up again, still a bit out of sorts and pale, but the tightness around his eyes had lessened. He drew himself up, puffing his chest out, and tried for a more officious tone. “Not just because of–” he held up the kitten, who was curled on his hand like it was the softest bed, “–but… for everything. For being honest with me about my… my pet. For… talking with the twins at the start of the term on my behalf. They, uh, they mentioned it. And for being the best professor we had, and I’m glad we had you during my last year here. I think I was able to pass my Defense exams solely thanks to your guidance. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry you will have to leave. You’ve never had a single problem for the entire duration of your stay here… well, aside for that one… uh, lapse.”

Lupin’s lips twitched in a pleased grin. “Thank you for believing me, and for your respectful tone, Mr Weasley.”

Percy wrinkled his nose, looking like he wanted nothing more than to start a tirade against anti-werewolf beliefs, but he bit down on his lip and instead stood up, bowing once. “Of course.” he snorted, chiding himself right afterwards for showing this much freedom in front of a professor. “With how many exciting adventures my brother and Harry have every year, I would have ended up believing you only based on that.”

Lupin let out a barking laugh, surprised at the casual joke. “That’s true. I did hear about last year’s Basilisk, and first year as well.”

“I guess Ron’s desire to chase down danger thoughtlessly had to come out at some time. Goodbye, professor, and good luck.” With a last nod, Percy walked out, the kitten safely held in his hands like a precious cargo.

Watching him go, Lupin knew he’d done the right thing.

It had been a long year, and although he’d miss teaching, he wouldn’t mind getting some rest, now, before resuming his work for the Order.

With a flick of his wand, Lupin packed what was left of his office supplies, grinning to himself, and closed the door behind his back as he left, whistling a merry tune as he walked down the corridors and out of the castle.