Chapter 17. Our Esteemed Prefect...
When the dishes were set on the table, Mrs Weasley stood in the kitchen and bellowed everyone's names.
A clamour of footsteps came from upstairs, and five children burst out of their bedrooms and pelted down.
Mr Weasley, only just off work, slumped into a kitchen chair, took off his glasses and rubbed his eye sockets.
A thin face couldn't hide the fatigue, completely different from his lively energy at noon, as though he had spent the afternoon carrying out a world-saving mission.
"Good evening, children."
Hearing the noise, Mr Weasley put his glasses back on and greeted them with a smile.
"Dad, what assignment were you on again?"
Fred voiced the question on everyone's mind.
"A few foolish nitwits!"
Mr Weasley sighed.
"They tried again to use those modified Muggle artefacts to mess about with Muggles, but they let it get out of hand and it affected several surrounding neighbourhoods.
We spent the whole afternoon working to cover it up so the frightened Muggles could get back to normal life."
"All right, no work talk at the table."
Mrs Weasley cut in and looked around the kitchen.
"Is everyone here?"
"Report, Mum!"
George said loudly.
"Our esteemed Prefect hasn't come down yet.
Shall we go upstairs and invite him?"
"Percy?"
Mrs Weasley asked in puzzlement.
"Didn't he go out on some errand?
Is he back already?"
"He came back this afternoon," Ron replied.
"You weren't home then, so you didn't see him."
"Then why hasn't he come down yet?"
Mrs Weasley frowned.
"Maybe he's dealing with reports submitted by his subordinates."
"Or planning his career path for next term."
Fred and George joked, each thinking the other's line wasn't bad at all, and the two even exchanged a cheerful high-five.
Mrs Weasley shot them a slightly angry glare, then strode to the foot of the stairs.
"Percy, come down for dinner!"
"Coming, Mum."
About two minutes later, the unhurried Percy appeared at the top of the stairs and walked over.
He wore a clean, tidy set of wizard's robes, his expression grave.
He looked very calm and self-possessed, like a little adult, his bearing completely different from the other Weasley children.
Notably, as he came to the table he deliberately puffed out his chest to show off a gleaming badge with the letter "P."
"He became a Prefect at Hogwarts this term."
"He has to show off to us several times a day!"
"He's been tormenting us for a whole holiday, and we're going mad."
"Give it a few days and you'll understand how we feel..."
Fred and George shook their heads and sighed one after another right by Duncan's ear.
But Percy, as though he hadn't heard the brothers' grumbling—which was hardly any quieter than normal—said politely to Mrs Weasley, "Sorry, Mum, I was looking over some Prefect notes I borrowed.
I wanted to use the time before term starts to study a bit more, so I don't make mistakes after school begins."
Mrs Weasley nodded warmly, then glared at Fred and George again.
"You should both learn from Percy!"
"Got it, Mum!"
The two groaned, heads tilted back.
"Long time no see, Duncan."
Percy sat in the chair beside Duncan and held out his right hand.
Having got used to Fred and George being a pair of rascals, Duncan didn't react for a moment when suddenly faced with someone with proper manners.
He stared blankly for a second, then hurriedly reached out and shook Percy's hand politely.
"I hope you're sorted into Gryffindor.
Gryffindor is a very fine House," Percy said in all seriousness, like a leader speaking at a staff meeting.
"The current Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, was in Gryffindor.
And Professor McGonagall is our Head of House, and a very powerful witch, with deep expertise in Transfiguration."
"But if you're not sorted here it's all right; you needn't feel regret.
The other Houses have their own merits as well."
"If you run into trouble at school later, you can come to me.
I'm a Gryffindor Prefect now, and I can offer you a certain amount of help."
Having said this, Percy turned to Duncan again, tugged at his robes, and displayed his Prefect badge.
Duncan could only nod repeatedly in agreement, while Fred and George, facing him across the table, struggled not to laugh.
They gripped their knives and forks hard, kept their heads down and stared at the food on their plates, not daring to glance Duncan's way for fear they would burst out laughing.
Even so, they still let out little hissing sounds from time to time, like two boiling kettles venting steam.
"Eat properly!"
Mrs Weasley glared at Fred and George.
After getting through supper with some difficulty, Duncan listened to Mr Weasley for a while as he talked about some new Muggle facts he'd learned.
Then Duncan and Ron played a few games of wizard chess.
The record was very fine indeed: Ron won five, and Duncan lost every one.
In the end, the pieces Duncan commanded lost their tempers, stopped obeying orders and moved in a contrary, half-hearted way.
After all, no chess piece likes being smashed to bits over and over and tossed off the board like rubbish.
Duncan had meant to stop and concede, but the pieces balked at going back into the box, as if they wanted a win before bed.
Seeing he couldn't beat Ron, Duncan could only drag over Ginny—who wasn't very interested in wizard chess—to play two games with him.
Only then did those pieces, which wished they could tear Duncan to bits and scatter him to dry on the board, calm down and return to the box contentedly.
Leaning back on the sofa, Duncan let out a long breath and silently resolved never to play wizard chess with Ron again.
The lad doesn't play fair, doesn't understand social niceties, and bullies a fellow who's hardly played a few games.
The moment he spots a weakness, he goes for the kill.
Often one second Duncan had the advantage, and the next it mysteriously vanished, leaving him at a total loss.
Fred and George, as if tired from watching Duncan play, yawned in unison and rubbed their shoulders.
"Mum, we're going upstairs to rest..."
"Go on, go on," Mrs Weasley answered absently.
By her side, several knitting needles flew up and down, changing their rhythm at her command, hooking purple yarn into a jumper.
Catching the furtive looks Fred and George threw him, Duncan waited a bit, then stood up as well, said good night to Mr and Mrs Weasley, stepped through the narrow passage, and set foot on the uneven stairs.
When Duncan reached the turn of the staircase, his view ahead was blocked.
Two figures suddenly popped out like a scene from a horror film.
"You finally came.
I thought you hadn't understood our looks!"
Fred said with a grin.
"I'm not as thick as you two...
Where do I hand the stuff over?"
Duncan rolled his eyes.
"Our bedroom."
Fred and George turned and led Duncan up the stairs.
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