Chapter Text
‘Percy, could I borrow Hermes?’ Ron requested, his head was poking from where he had cracked open Percy’s bedroom door ajar. Percy looked up from the letter he was writing, his quill, the one he had gotten from Penelope for Christmas, stilled and the ink gathered in a little puddle on the parchment. Percy’s expression looked irritated when he turned in his chair to face Ron. But just before his younger brother could sheepishly slip away, Percy said, ‘You should’ve knocked.’
Ron rolled his eyes, stopping midway to closing the door.‘No one knocks in this house; just because you’re prefect at school, it doesn’t mean you get to bug us about being proper and rules at home,’ he said in a mocking voice. But to his surprise, Percy neither retorted nor scolded him for his tone, instead he returned to writing his letter. ‘What could you possibly need Hermes for?’ He returned the question.
Ron fiddled with the loose door knob, turning it over as it jingled in its place. ‘To carry my letters to Harry– he hasn’t been replying and I reckon Errol, the ancient thing, has been dropping the letters midway to his place or something,’ he grumbled, eyeing glares at the napping old owl from over his shoulder, a mass of moulted feathers, that nobody had bothered cleaning up, had built up at the bottom of his cage. Ron looked back into Percy’s room, at where Hermes was swooping back and forth overhead, dodging between the beams below the ceiling.
Ron couldn’t help the ache of envy at seeing the young and sprightly owl that Percy had gotten as a gift for being made Prefect. Whereas Bill had gotten new robes and Charlie received a new broom for the achievements, Percy had not only been gifted Hermes, but he had also been given new glasses. The git was really just swimming in it, isn’t he? Ron thought. But he held back on voicing any of these feelings, at least whenever he needed anything from Percy.
His older brother was fickle like that. Outside of tutoring and the occasional assist with assignments, he wouldn’t offer any other sort of help unless it was transactional or if he saw fit they deserve his assistance for ‘good behaviour’, whatever that meant. Exceptions to Percy’s rule were, of course, professors, mum, sometimes dad and most figures of older authority in general.
But, somehow, Percy must’ve heard Ron’s thoughts even if hadn’t said them out loud, since he got up to tie the letter he had been working on to Hermes’ leg and whisper the address of the recipient before he replied to Ron, ‘As you can see, Hermes is already quite occupied, so I fear you can’t.’ As he said that, the owl swooped past Percy and out of the open window by his desk.
Ron’s grip on the door knob tightened and his expression pinched into a sneer. He didn’t say anything, just slammed the door, when he left, hard enough to rattle the rickety, old, wooden desk. Percy sighed, running a hand through his hair as he fell back down into his chair.
Had he been too harsh? He wasn’t sure why he had reacted the way he did, but he probably snapped what thin thread held his relationship with Ron together. Like always, he blew it. Penelope could wait another day or two for her reply, why hadn’t he just agreed to Ron burrowing Hermes for a few letters or so when it was so obvious now that his younger brother had to push himself to ask for his help in order to reach his unresponsive best friend. Those thoughts weaved together in knots and tangles that Percy, whether he’ll like it or not, will have to sit and stew in order to unravel later.
Absent mindlessly, he was fiddling with the chain his locket was attached to. In an attempt to change the subject of his mind, Percy recalled when his mother’s eyes had practically bulged out of their sockets when she first saw the new, very un-Percy-like, statement piece hanging from his neck, and had overwhelmed him with questions of how he had even paid for it, whether or not they were a gift, if so, is it a matching set? And they are, just who was the lucky lady? The last part, Percy felt a bit assumptious.
As truthful as he may have tried to answer, his mother didn’t appear to have fully bought his explanation when Percy clarified that: he had bought them out of his own pocket with the money he had made through tutoring, that yes, the locket is part of a matching set, but were a gift from him to Harry, who had the other half to the pair. But, regardless of the clear disbelief written on Molly’s face, she left him to himself once she had ran out of things to pester her son with.
But left to his own thoughts, and with what Ron had told him just moments before Percy had, probably, further thinned their already sliver of a relationship, he came to subconsciously dig his nose into business that isn’t at all his.
Why hasn’t Harry been responding to Ron’s letters? They were the bestest of friends, weren’t they?
For knowing each other for just a school year, they got along well enough to be practically attached by the hip. Percy had taken until his second year to warm up to Penelope, his fourth to have her over at the Burrow. And as for Oliver, Percy had only started talking to him in third year after Penelope decided she would have a crush on Roger Davies, one of the Ravenclaw chasers, and had convinced Percy to be acquainted with Oliver Wood, as he was friends with Davies, so she could have a reason to see Davies whenever he and Oliver were together.
Percy would later apologies to Oliver for their friendship starting as a scheme for Penelope’s love endeavors, but the boy had just laughed it off and admitted to being aware the entire time but played along anyway because he figured that that was the best way to make friends with the roommate who shuts himself in their dorm room or in the library all the time outside of classes. It was, an honest to Merlin, miracle they continued being friends after that comment.
But back to the issue at hand, it could be that Ron was right to think Errol was to blame for his unrequited correspondence with Harry. But picking apart that reason of fault, why hadn’t, or couldn’t, Harry just have Hedwig pass on his letters? Did the boy just not know how to use owl post? Percy also wouldn’t put it past Ron to forget to tell Harry their address.
Whatever was the case, if there was truly a problem then Harry would have known to alert Percy of it with his locket, unless he was just as forgetful as his brother and had let their promise slip his mind. But until Percy felt the locket vibrate twice over his chest, which he really hoped it wouldn’t, he’d be content with assuming everything was as fine as can be– if just with a few hiccups of unreceived letters on Ron’s part.
–
Everything was not fine as can be– if anything, they were the complete opposite. Harry was miserable, even more so than before he knew of Hogwarts and the magicking world, because, at least then, Harry knew there was no world where he could be actually happy. As things are as they are now, he felt like a trapped bird that’s been thrown back into his cage after having escaped once and experienced freedom.
That was metaphoric though, up until Uncle Vernon found out he wasn’t allowed to use magic outside of school, and so had the pig-sized gall to really lock Harry up, with the barred window, bolted door and, crazily enough, scheduled windows for bathroom breaks.
From the way Harry was treated no better than a felon, you’d think he had attempted to return the coiled tail and oinking noise to Dudley –although if he had, Harry would sure to be successful– but truly, he had nothing to do with the reason he had been punished in the first place. It was all to do with that damned wide eyed, raggedy dressed elf.
Harry fumed just thinking about Dobby. Not only did he have Harry framed for ruining Aunt Petunia’s pudding, but, and even more upsettingly, the bloody elf was the reason he hadn’t been receiving any letters from his friends.
All this time, Harry almost left himself to fall into believing Ron and Hermione were as impossibly reachable as the wizarding world, that they may as well had been just fractions of his imagination along with Hogwarts, if it weren't for the locket. For Percy.
If Harry was being bothersome by flicking his locket almost every single night and especially throughout his entire birthday, he’d just have to apologies to Percy when he saw the older Weasley next school year –if he’ll even be allowed to go– because his insistent tapping of the connected lockets had only increased ever since the night he was essentially imprisoned in his room after his unpleasant encounter with Dobby.
But every time Harry had even just accidentally touched the golden locket out of sheer habit at this point, the subtle buzz, that he’s come to associate with Percy’s presence, would be returned, and Harry would be able to sleep through the night. For even if his stomach was empty and the nights were cold, his chest was not.
On the third night of his imprisonment, after Harry took his half of the cold veggie slop Aunt Petunia so graciously spent five minutes to unscrew the can’s top off, he tipped the leftover soggy carrots and other unidentifiable greens into Hedwig’s food tray. She looked about just as eager to eat it as Harry was, but neither were in any place to be picky, and Harry told her just as so, ‘It’s no good turning your beak up at it, that’s all we’ve got.’
But, either she didn’t like the attitude in his tone or was sick of the food she’s been swallowing only with her eyes closed, Hedwig screeched, ruffling her feathers and flapping her wings against the confines of her cage. She was clearly outraged, and those talons didn’t look like they’d hurt any less than when Harry had accidentally peeled off his skin when skinning potatoes for Dudley’s last birthday roast.
‘I know, I know– I’d also rather eat a roast with charred rat than whatever that was too, but come on, don’t take it out on me–’ Harry yelped when a clawed foot was mere inches from tearing his chest open and although Hedwig missed, a talon caught onto the chain around Harry’s neck, keeping him firmly in the furthest place he was able to back up to.
For a moment, Hedwig stilled in her tantrum, occupied to tilt head at the shiny object in her grasp. ‘Oh no, no, no… Hedwig, please don’t touch it– please,’ Harry grimaced, oh-so slowly shuffling closer with his head pulled back as far as his neck allowed, in any case Hedwig chose to nab at his glasses next.
But, and Harry really should’ve figured talking English to an owl; magical or not; wouldn’t work, Hedwig clearly hadn’t even detected the desperation in his voice as she dug her beak straight into the locket. As Harry had feared, Hedwig, after seeing how the locket reacted by convulsing like a live snake, continued to peck at it viciously until eventually Harry managed to pry it off of the owl’s talon, but not without snapping the chain, dropping the locket with a loud clack onto the wooden floor that was sure to leave the mark.
Before Harry could react in time, a loud banging shook the door almost loose off its hinges. ‘WHAT IS ALL THAT RUCKUS!’ Vernon lashed, his fist heavy against the only barrier keeping Harry from having to think of a way to squeeze his tiny body past the bars screwed into the windows (but who was he kidding, Harry had already thought through every conceivable method of escaping and knew the window was a hopeless route).
He snatched the locket off of the floor, holding it tight against his chest as he sank to the floor behind his bed, his free hand clasped over his mouth.
‘Harry, breathe, with me. Inhale, hold, now exhale.’
As he recalled Percy’s words, his breath slowly stabled, and soon he realised the pounding of the door had disappeared. Harry wondered just where did Percy learned to handle these kinds of outbursts, but his thoughts were cut short when he realised the locket had stopped buzzing in his hands.
Harry hoped Percy didn’t misunderstand Hedwig’s butchering of the locket as him calling on the older boy for help. For as much as Harry had dreamt of someone, anyone, breaking him out of house arrest, he knew there wouldn’t be much any of his friends or Percy could do, what with the law against underage magic usage outside of Hogwarts, and so hadn’t put to use the promise he had made with Percy. Harry also knew that the other boy was far too smart to risk his neck like that as well. All he could do now was hope the Dursleys hated him enough to send him away to Hogwarts once the summer break was over.
‘We almost would’ve been thrown back into the closet,’ Harry hissed up at Hedwig, who just hooted in response, completely oblivious to their near ill fate.
Climbing into bed, he threw the thin, threadbare cover over his head, tucking it as a cushion between his head and arm that acted as his pillow because the barely stuffed pillow case wasn’t any better than sleeping plainly on the bare mattress.
Harry clutched his locket close to his chest once more, but when he taps it more out of routine at this point than need of comfort –though, right now, he would really like that– it isn’t reciprocated, leaving the gold locket cold in his hands. Against his chest.
–
Percy startled out of bed in a cold sweat. The rumbling on his chest unforgiving until he was roused awake in a flurry to grab it in order for the locket to still.
‘Merlin, what in the…’ Percy stared at the pendant in his hand, the moonlight peeking through his window, reflecting off of the metallic surface of it was enough for him to make out the swirl of Harry’s magic between the engravings of the locket’s cover. For whatever reason, the magic’s activity became more erratic, causing its golden cage to rattle despite the fact Percy had just put a stop to it moments ago. Suddenly, it felt as if his own magic core had fallen in a heavy drop into his stomach.
‘Harry’s in trouble.’
Faster than he had the first time he had overslept until minutes before a class, Percy barely managed to fix his glasses onto his face without snapping them in half, and throw on whatever his eyes caught first from his closet over his meager nightwear. It took a moment to get his wand, from opening the wrong drawer of the two side-tables his bed was nestled between, before Percy, as quiet as he could be, slipped open his door to sneak out.
But as he snuck down the worn out, creaky stairs, he stopped mid tip-toeing to voices in the kitchen. The whispered words stuck him colder than the drift through the too big flannel that was most definitely Charlie’s before it became Percy’s.
‘Is this really a good idea– since when could any of you drive?’
‘Oh don’t worry yourself to combustion, Ronniekins, it can’t be any more difficult than maneuvering a broom.’
‘And we’re excellent flyers, aren’t we, George?’
‘Right on, Fred.’
As quickly as he could possibly be without agitating the wooden stair boards, Percy made his appearance in front of the twins and Ron, much to all their chagrins. ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ He chastised, he’d look a bit like a mad man if it weren’t for his delicately controlled volume.
‘Wrap it up, the fun-officer is here,’ Fred cursed under his breath. George wasn’t as discreet when hiding his chuckle.
But while Fred and George didn’t look particularly guilty or upset of being caught out of bed by their older brother, Ron looked equal parts horrified and furious. Pointing a finger at Percy, he balled up his other hand into a fist. ‘Well– I can't imagine you’re down here for a glass of water dressed like your closet just threw up on you with your wand in hand like a bloody weapon.’
George slyly whistled, ‘Ronnie’s got him there…’
‘Too right, George, how’s Perce going to recover from that,’ Fred nodded along, twin pairs of eyes flickering between youngest brother to the oldest present like it was a damned soap opera.
Percy, in turn, was red in the face. But faced with Ron being right about getting him there, he stepped down the last step to be leveled with his younger brothers –as leveled as he could, being as tall as he was– with wand hand relaxed against his side and his face cooled to a neutral expression.
‘You’re right. I’m not down here for a glass of water, but neither are any of you. So it’s either you go back to bed right now, never mentioning to anyone that you saw me tonight, and I won’t tell on you, or I get you all into trouble with Mum right now and you can see who’ll she’ll believe when you try to convince her I also wasn’t out of bed for just a drink of water.’
Was he playing dirty? Absolutely, but with the only other alternative he could think of being Obliviate-ing his brothers, this seemed like the more humane approach, although if desperate measures called for it, Percy could be sure he could get George, Fred and Ron in one fell swoop if he went for the twins first.
Ron looked about ready to argue back, but Fred, who finally realised the gravity of the situation, had beaten him to the chase. ‘What, that’s so unfair! Just what could you be up to that needs us silenced or face mum’s wrath if we choose to stay– you don’t even know what we were planning to do!’
This was such a waste of time Percy wasn’t sure he even had. ‘I know that you were going to steal Dad’s car and drive it to Merlin knows where,’ he rolled his eyes, waving his free hand to insinuate his point.
‘Damn, he overheard that?’ George peeped.
‘We were going to see Harry,’ Ron stated, the fire in his eyes having still yet to burn out. That had Percy snap his attention back onto him.
Something about that wide-eyed, wild, unguarded look in Percy’s eyes made Ron want to take a step back, but he persisted, continuing, ‘Because you didn’t lend me Hermes, I need to see for myself why Harry hasn’t been answering my letters.’ He stood up as tall as he could, defiantly against his older brother.
Percy almost couldn’t believe the lengths his little brother was willing to go for his friend. But to be fair, if it had been Oliver or Penelope, and he was in Ron’s place… Percy shook his head to dispel the thought. He had to make a consecutive decision that may or may not get not only him, but his brothers in deep to law-breaking trouble.
After a pause, one long enough to have Ron sweating bullets and the twins already looking around for ways to escape the tension, Percy spoke up, ‘Then I’m coming along.’
George almost tripped over one of Ginny’s discarded dolls trying to sneak past Percy to the stairs, ‘What?’
Fred’s eyes crossed between Ron and George’s faces to check their reactions before voicing his own disbelief, ‘Did Percy really just say he’s coming with or did Merlin whisper a joke to me?’
‘Have you gone mad?’ Was what Ron had to say in light of their older brother basically inviting himself to their little illegal midnight outing.
He wasn’t at all surprised by their reactions, as much as he was offended. ‘I have not gone mad,’ he said, turning a deadpanned face to Ron, before directing the expression to Fred while he grabbed behind him, capturing George’s sleeve, ‘Yes, I really did say that.’
All three younger brothers exchanged skeptical yet shocked expressions– well, Fred and George had their unspoken conversation, Ron was looking everywhere, but at Percy, feeling left out by the twins, but not enough to resort to sharing that sentiment with Percy. Eventually, they did seem to have come to a consensus. ‘Fine, but once you’re part of this, if we go down, you’re coming with us to face’ George crossed his arms over his chest.
Percy rolled his eyes at him, going over to pull out and sit on one of the chairs arranged around the dinner table. ‘Why would I do that if I wanted to also get an earful from Mum,’ he grumbled, fiddling with his chain. In the dark, a faint green light emitted from the locket.
The longer Percy sat and stewed over how he’d– well now, he and his brothers were going to save Harry from whatever troublesome predicament the boy found himself in, the harder the tug in his chest pulled. ‘So you were really planning to break essentially every wizards’ law in order to save Harry?’ Percy massaged his forehead like it’d soothe the forming headache.
Ron’s face pinched tight into a scowl, ‘Did you have a better idea then?’ Now it was Percy’s turn to cringe away. He didn’t have a plan. Hadn’t even taken a moment to consider what he really was doing– the risks and consequences of it all.
‘I…’ Percy made the mistake of hesitating for even a second. The twins immediately took the falter of their older brother and ran with it, ‘“I–I–I” have no ideas at all!”.’ Fred pretend-wailed, holding his cheeks with both his hands as he pouted. George doubled down, hugging himself as a he quivered, ‘“I actually think George and Fred’s idea was genius and that we should totally take the car.”.’
Fred clapped his hand in finality, ‘So it’s decided. Now where does dad keep the keys?’ He looked up and down, left to right but it was obvious he wasn’t really looking as his eyes, all squinted with smug and sly landed on Percy, whom was now subjected by both George and Ron’s questioning stares as well.
Arms crossed, he stood firm in resistance… for about a minute until he conceded. Throwing up his arms in defeat before he stalked over to the coat hanger, lifted up his father’s hat that he never wears, to find the keys to the car where it was cleverly –but not clever enough because all it took was accidental knock over of the hat for Percy to find it on a random Monday– hidden.
Fred and George, in a flash, swiped for the keys, but it was Ron who was closest to nicking it off Percy. But as the currently second tallest Weasley –just behind Bill– he easily held it above and out of reach, his free hand wagged a finger in disapproval. ‘I’m driving. No negotiations.’
‘Awwhh, don’t be such a sorry sport, Perce, it was our plan after all,’ Fred whined, attempting to climb his twin to use as a stepping stool.
George held onto Fred's legs, close to wobbling over, ‘Yeah! We called dibs first too’
But neither argument was sufficient enough as Percy didn’t budge over this matter. ‘I’m driving and that’s final–’ Ron piped up, somehow lost between the squabble, ‘Can we please get a move on, we’re wasting time– y’know mum’s already up and about just when the sun starts waking up.’ That halted his older brothers.
It took a moment for Percy to fully process that Ron– his youngest, most considerably laziest, ‘Time is just a social construct.’ brother– was scolding him for wasting time. But when he did, he felt… ashamed, a heat pinched at his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he slipped the keys into a fist of his hand, ‘Right– we’ve got not a moment to lose,’ he said, pushing past Fred and George to make way to the garage.
‘Let’s hope driving a car isn’t too different from a broom…’ Percy muttered, shoving the key into the ignition.