ficlet: Aspiring Minister of Magic
Title: Aspiring Minister of Magic
Characters: Percy, Fred, George, Molly, and more Weasleys if you squint.
Summary: A moment in Percy's childhood.
Wordcount: 400
Notes: devilish__angel prompted me with The Adventures of Little!Percy, but I'm not quite sure this turned into any adventure. *sheepish*
“I, Percival Ignatius Weasley, will be Minister of Magic!” the twiggy red-haired boy declared. Glasses too large for his face slid up his long nose in their proper place as he tilted his chin up in a very dignified fashion.
The two younger red-head boys standing before him simultaneously folded their arms and scowled. Neither looked impressed.
“You’re always the Minister,” one groaned.
“Always the Moronic Minister,” the other added, practicing his vocabulary with a grin.
“I am not!” Percy protested.
Identical down to the last freckle, the two in opposition exchanged a look only they understood. Both grinned and started circling around the ‘Minister’, asking him,
“Are you Percy the Pathetic Minister, then?”
“How about Percy the Pansy?”
“Oh, I know! Fred, he’s Percy the Prat!” George had picked that one up from Charlie.
Red to the roots of his hair with embarrassment, humiliated tears burning his eyes, Percy shouted, “I AM NOT!”
“BOYS!” A shrilly, feminine voice carried through the kitchen first before Molly Weasley came thundering into the living room, saucepan in one hand and spatula in the other. For a woman who looked like she had a melon sprouting out of her belly beneath her dress, she was surprisingly swift.
“I can’t turn around for one single moment without you two causing trouble! Off to your rooms, no arguments or no supper. Now!” Molly hissed, shooing them up the stairs with her spatula before rounding on Percy.
Immediately, her ire died away into a sympathetic frown. Percy didn’t see her shoulders sagging. He’d taken off his glasses because they, and his cheeks, were getting wet.
“I came without even realizing I still had these in my hands,” his mother sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, dear.”
Through the blur of tears Percy was furiously wiping out of his eyes, he saw the saucepan whiz back to the kitchen where it belonged, the spatula following right behind it. He did his utmost to suppress, or at least quiet, every sniffle as he pushed his glasses back on. It wouldn’t be dignified for the Minister to sniffle.
Next, he saw nothing but his mum’s flamingo pink dress. She hugged him, and although he’d long ago decided he was much too old to be hugged by his mum, Percy squeezed his eyes closed and let her. Just once more couldn’t hurt.
Even the Minister of Magic had to have a mum.
Characters: Percy, Fred, George, Molly, and more Weasleys if you squint.
Summary: A moment in Percy's childhood.
Wordcount: 400
Notes: devilish__angel prompted me with The Adventures of Little!Percy, but I'm not quite sure this turned into any adventure. *sheepish*
“I, Percival Ignatius Weasley, will be Minister of Magic!” the twiggy red-haired boy declared. Glasses too large for his face slid up his long nose in their proper place as he tilted his chin up in a very dignified fashion.
The two younger red-head boys standing before him simultaneously folded their arms and scowled. Neither looked impressed.
“You’re always the Minister,” one groaned.
“Always the Moronic Minister,” the other added, practicing his vocabulary with a grin.
“I am not!” Percy protested.
Identical down to the last freckle, the two in opposition exchanged a look only they understood. Both grinned and started circling around the ‘Minister’, asking him,
“Are you Percy the Pathetic Minister, then?”
“How about Percy the Pansy?”
“Oh, I know! Fred, he’s Percy the Prat!” George had picked that one up from Charlie.
Red to the roots of his hair with embarrassment, humiliated tears burning his eyes, Percy shouted, “I AM NOT!”
“BOYS!” A shrilly, feminine voice carried through the kitchen first before Molly Weasley came thundering into the living room, saucepan in one hand and spatula in the other. For a woman who looked like she had a melon sprouting out of her belly beneath her dress, she was surprisingly swift.
“I can’t turn around for one single moment without you two causing trouble! Off to your rooms, no arguments or no supper. Now!” Molly hissed, shooing them up the stairs with her spatula before rounding on Percy.
Immediately, her ire died away into a sympathetic frown. Percy didn’t see her shoulders sagging. He’d taken off his glasses because they, and his cheeks, were getting wet.
“I came without even realizing I still had these in my hands,” his mother sighed ruefully. “I’m sorry, dear.”
Through the blur of tears Percy was furiously wiping out of his eyes, he saw the saucepan whiz back to the kitchen where it belonged, the spatula following right behind it. He did his utmost to suppress, or at least quiet, every sniffle as he pushed his glasses back on. It wouldn’t be dignified for the Minister to sniffle.
Next, he saw nothing but his mum’s flamingo pink dress. She hugged him, and although he’d long ago decided he was much too old to be hugged by his mum, Percy squeezed his eyes closed and let her. Just once more couldn’t hurt.
Even the Minister of Magic had to have a mum.