Percy Take the Wheel

six

Bill's visit was wearing on Percy's nerves. Yes, he was being less fidgety around the ghoul and he wasn't shooting Percy looks anymore, but Percy had become accustomed to a certain amount of... control. He didn't want to admit it, but it was obvious to anyone who took the time to look that Percy was chafing under the reins of another familial authority figure. George particularly enjoyed reminding Percy in a myriad of creative ways that he wasn't in charge when Bill or Charlie was there.

That didn't mean he was any kinder to Bill, but Percy wasn't going to count that as a point in his favour. George just didn't like anyone acting parental, anymore. Not that Bill was the most parental of figures, anyway, but he did seem to be trying to be responsible.

The first night, he'd let them stay up past their bedtimes, despite Percy's twitchy reminder when the time was due, and the next day he seemed to regret it as they dragged themselves grumpily out of bed, resembling inferi more than children through the day, so from the second night on, he took Percy's reminder without too much resentment and sent them to bed on time.

Bill had offered to cook, too, but Percy jealously guarded the last vestiges of his autonomy by hovering in the kitchen with the ghoul around meal times and sweetly declining Bill's requests.

"Maybe that's another reason Mum kept us out of the kitchen," Percy murmured to his ghoul, "It was the only place she got a chance to breathe."

At first, Percy had had the younger Weasleys on their usual chore schedule, but the second it interfered with Bill's plans, the entire thing was upended, his siblings taking shameless advantage of the two older brothers' disagreements on how things should be done to get out of work, and it was only Percy's copious use of Lockhart's household guide that kept the house from falling into disrepair. Granted, Bill did corral them haphazardly and intermittently to one chore or another, but he didn't seem quite aware of what all needed to be done, and was strangely resentful of his younger brother attempting to correct him. Well, it's not all that strange, Percy snorted to himself, He and Charlie have always hated when I'm right.

"Look, Percy," Bill had said, earnestly, "You can take a load off for a bit. I'm home, and I'll take care of things for now."

Right. Just sit back and watch the house fall down around him. Percy had exchanged a look with the ghoul, his only remaining conspirator, and bit back any smart remarks. It was looking like Bill would still be here when the time for school shopping rolled around. Percy wasn't exactly upset about this, since more hands to corral meant less likelihood of losing a sibling in the Alley, but he was really looking forward to Hogwarts, this year.

He could barely wait to get away.

Meanwhile, Ginny had finally cajoled agreement from all six older brothers regarding his mother's wand, having waved Charlie's letter as the last acceptance physically in Percy's face, and could often be seen practicing flourishes and jabs at various spots throughout the house, or pestering Ron and Harry – who were often in their own little world and needed the bother to be dragged out – for pointers.

It was weird, but not as heart-clenching as Percy had feared. It almost felt a little better that the wand was in use again, like it had been rotting away when it lay alone in the safe. He supposed wands were built for use, after all, so it was only logical they needed to be used.

Or something.

Honestly, Percy was getting a lot of odd feelings on top of his usual intuition lately. He felt like he was going to sneeze whenever Bill cast a spell near him, and he swore he could tell when someone entered a room without seeing or hearing them. Not that anyone was arguing the point. He hadn't told anyone, after all. Because along with the increase in odd feelings was an increase in the house creak- alright, in the damn female voice he'd been hearing here and there. It kept popping up to give him advice on recipes, and occasionally hedge magic, and he had tried a few out in the interest of verifying that he was, in fact, going insane, but it had all turned out as the voice had said. It even tried to explain the feelings he was having as an effect from inheriting a master practitioner's workspace, but Percy didn't want it to be real. He'd almost rather he was going mad, because if it was real, he had no idea what it was, or what it wanted. Sure, it had been benign so far, but he'd always been taught never to trust something if you couldn't see where it kept its brain. Yet, something about the voice was familiar- and he found himself almost wanting a reason to trust it, which scared him more.