Tuesday September 1st 1987

I sit on the smooth, stone steps at the front of the house, anxiously waiting to leave. I check my watch for about the tenth time in the last five minutes and my tummy jumps when I see that it’s quarter past ten already. Dad said we were leaving a good fifteen minutes ago. I don’t know what he’s doing now, but he needs to hurry up. The car isn’t even loaded yet - my battered, quadruple-checked trunk is waiting beside me. I bet that Bill and Charlie aren’t ready and that’s what’s keeping us. They don’t mind being late for things, but I do. I mean, how are you supposed to get to Hogwarts if you miss the train? It’s only going to be my first year there; I want to go on the train like everyone else.

I peer back into the open door, craning my neck in a desperate attempt to spot Mum or Dad. There’s a lot of noise coming from inside - I bet Mum’s getting cross with Charlie for not waking up earlier. Dad doesn’t really yell, so he’s probably just trying to keep the others quiet. I wish they’d hurry up. I want to go! It’s not fair - why is that on my first day we’re nearly late? I angrily scuff my feet in the grassy, earthy ground. I stop when I notice my shoes getting steadily muddier and dirtier and I wipe them hurriedly against the blades of grass. Last night, I spotted Mum feverishly flicking through Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests, searching for a spell that would buff my shoes up a bit. They’re still kind of scruffy, but you can tell that they’re shinier. They’re not even my shoes; they’re Bill’s old ones that he outgrew years ago. They would have passed onto Charlie, but he has smaller feet.

I hear a little squeak from my right and I realise I’ve forgotten about Scabbers. I lift up the small, copper cage and place it on my lap. Inside is a rather forlorn looking rat, staring up at me with his beady little eyes. I absent-mindedly poke my finger through the cage and he sniffs it hesitantly before having a little nibble. I didn’t want a rat. I wanted an owl - a nice, big Screech owl to bring me my post at Hogwarts. But Mum and Dad couldn’t afford one, so I got Scabbers instead. He’s all right - nothing special, really. He doesn’t do much except eat and sleep. It could be worse, though - I could have a toad.

There’s a noise from behind me and I almost drop the cage to the ground. I turn around to see Bill, all ready to go and lugging his trunk outside.

“Give me a hand, would you, Perce?” he asks.

I scrabble up and grab one of the handles, and together we shuffle towards the car. Bill opens the boot with Dad’s keys and puts the trunk in. He gestures for me to get mine, and I obediently hurry back to where I left it. I drag my trunk most of the way, but then Bill heaves it up and places it next to his. I check my watch again. Half past ten. Bill sees my worried face. “Don’t worry, Perce, we’ll be fine. Charlie’s nearly ready - last I saw him, he was firing books into his trunk while stuffing his face with toast. It’ll be any minute now.” He gives my shoulder a little reassuring shake.

I love Bill. I know you’re not really supposed to have favourites when it comes to your siblings, but if I had to pick one, it’d be Bill. I guess he’s sort of my role model, in a way. He got the Prefect badge last year, along with twelve O.W.L.S. Next year, he says, he’ll get the Head Boy one. Then he wants to work in Gringotts, but he’s not sure exactly what he wants to do there. Sometimes I think he’s even Mum and Dad’s favourite. I want to be like Bill when I’m older - get good results in my exams and become Prefect and Head Boy. I’d like to work in the Ministry of Magic, though, I think, like Dad. Only, not in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. I’d like to maybe work in Magical Law Enforcement, or even become Minister for Magic!

Bill and I glance back towards the house, as you can clearly hear Mum having a fit.

“CHARLIE WEASLEY! YOU GET DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW OR YOU CAN STAY WITH ME FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Bill lets out a low chuckle. “I’d say Charlie’s almost ready, Perce. Go on, you sit in the car and I’ll get Dad.”

I nod and slide into the car; a blue Ford Anglia. Dad’s enchanted it so it fits all of us, but Mum doesn’t know that. She just thinks that Muggles really know how to build cars. It doesn’t look that big from the outside, but it easily fits ten people. I heard Mum say that he should stop fiddling around Muggle objects and maybe then he’d get a promotion, but if he didn’t fiddle around with Muggle stuff, then we’d all have a serious problem getting to places. So I don’t really know what to make of that.

The car door that I was leaning against suddenly opens and I nearly topple out onto Charlie.

“Budge over, Percy! Stop hogging the whole seat,” Charlie says, grinning easily as he shoves his way into the car. I find myself hastily being jostled towards the other side of the seat as Charlie’s followed by Bill, Fred, George and Ron. Mum sits at the front of the car with Ginny beside her, while Dad puts Charlie’s trunk in the boot. Mum turns around to look at us boys in the back.

“Are you all ready, Percy?” she asks fondly. “Third one in the family! Oh, I can’t believe it. Maybe you’ll become a Prefect, like Bill? Or do you think you’d like Quidditch, Perce? Charlie could show you the ropes, or put a good word in for you!” Mum trails off happily, thinking of all the possibilities. She doesn’t notice Fred and George laughing at the thought of me playing Quidditch.

“Sure, Mum, maybe.”

She smiles, satisfied, and turns back to face the front. I hear Ginny whine, “But Mum, I want to go to Hogwarts!” Mum shushes her as Dad hops into the driving seat.

“Ready to go, Weasleys?” he asks, putting the car into gear. We roll out of the front yard and I strain in my seat, trying to get a last look at The Burrow. I’m finally going to Hogwarts! I’ll be able to make Mum and Dad proud at last. I’ll be a proper Weasley - a Gryffindor! I’ll get Outstandings in all of my exams, and who knows, I may even be half-way decent at Quidditch! I’ll prove that us Weasleys are more than just poor blood-traitors - you’ll see.

Thursday 1st September 1988

I sit at the foot of the bed, idly folding my navy socks in the corner of my trunk. I attempt to close the trunk relying just on the power being exerted from my arms, but I fail miserably. I press the top of it down and sit on it quickly before it has a chance to snap open. Technically, the trunk’s been packed since last week, but I needed something to distract me from the fact that Charlie’s only showering now, and it’s already quarter to ten. It’s my fifth time re-packing it - I keep remembering more books to bring, then I decide I don’t really need them, and then I get nervous in case I will need them and pack them back in again. Only, I always have my books at the bottom of the trunk, so it takes far longer than you’d expect. My homework’s at the bottom of the trunk too, but I had that done in the first two weeks of the holidays. I’ve never had homework to do in the summer holidays, but it was always at the back of my mind that I had to do it, so I just did it and got it out of the way. They did give us an awful lot of it, though. Especially Professor Snape - he set us a very long essay, but I wrote a couple of inches extra, just in case. You never can be too careful with him. I think Transfiguration’s probably my favourite subject; it’s definitely one of the more difficult ones, but I’ve always liked a challenge. I also like Potions, because it requires a lot of concentration and accuracy. I reckon my least favourite subject is Herbology - I just find plants, even magical ones, rather boring. I actually didn’t really mind the flying lessons; I enjoyed the feeling of freedom in the air, but when Madam Hooch started practising Quidditch with us, I didn’t like it so much. Is it really my fault that my instinct is to duck rather than catch a ball being thrown at me?

After a while, when I’m completely satisfied that the trunk is safely closed, I heave myself up and head towards the window. My room has the best view in the house - at least, it does in my opinion, anyway. It over-looks the garden at the back of the house. I really missed the garden when I went to Hogwarts. Obviously the grounds in Hogwarts are amazing, but there’s something so familiar, so comforting about our back garden. The pond is always nearly over-flowing with frogs and the grass always needs to be mowed. You can do whatever you want out there - be whoever you want out there. You can just get lost in a book or your thoughts and no-one will distract you - well, except for the gnomes, that is. They like to be involved.

I don’t like being on the same floor as Fred and George, though. Even though they’re younger than me, they’re so much louder and confident that I feel like I should do what they say. I’m the third oldest, but I don’t feel it. I want to be a good influence and a good role model for them, Ron and Ginny, but it’s hard when I feel so overshadowed by Fred and George. That’s another reason I love Hogwarts so much - I don’t have to be around them all the time. That’s an awful thing to say, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong; they’re my brothers and I love them, but sometimes it’s as if we’re just too different. I mean, how are they supposed to look up to me if they never want to be anything like me? I stand for everything they scorn. Maybe I’m just trying too hard - I am only two years older than they are. I just want so badly to be respected, to be admired, but a part of me knows that I’m just pushing them away in the end. They don’t want to be like me. They want to be like Bill and Charlie, and be good at Quidditch and be funny and have lots of friends. I want to be like that too, but I can’t. It’s not in me. I’m not confident enough, I’m not witty enough and I’m not easy-going enough. And although it sounds a little bit crazy, I’d rather be an exaggerated version of me rather than a pathetic shadow of Bill and Charlie. I don’t know why. I guess if I can’t be them, then I’ll be the total opposite of them - that way, no-one can compare me to them.

Suddenly, there’s a fretful knock on my door. The words “Come in” barely escape from my lips when it’s thrown open to reveal an extremely harassed looking Mum.

“Percy! Oh, thank Merlin, you’re awake! It was so quiet on this floor that I thought you’d forgotten to set your alarm and you were still in bed!” she says, almost wiping the sweat from her brow in relief.

I laugh. “Mum, calm down. I’m ready - I’ve showered and had my breakfast and all.”

She smiles. “Of course you have.” She walks over and envelopes me in a hug. “Sometimes, I think you and I are the only responsible ones in this family, Percy.”

“Hey!” An indignant voice interrupts our embrace and we break away, surprised. Bill is standing by the door, his arms crossed.

“I’m all ready, too, Mum, but I don’t hear you calling me responsible,” he says, his face failing to appear serious.

Mum chuckles. “Bill, you’re Head Boy now - I had hoped you were beginning to act responsibly!”

She smiles indulgently at the shiny badge pinned to his jumper. I gaze at it longingly - maybe in a few years it’ll be pinned to my jumper. Charlie got his Prefect badge too - I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mum so proud of them.

“Now, I’d better go downstairs and see what your father’s doing. Percy, dear, bring down your trunk to the car. Bill, love, you too.” She bustles out of the room, humming happily to herself.

Bill is still leaning against the door way, scrutinizing me as if I’m unwell.

“You all ready for your second year, Perce?” he asks.

I nod happily and begin to shove my trunk across the floor.

“I’ll do that,” he says, picking up my trunk as if it weighed no more than a gnome. “But seriously, Perce, what are you putting in this trunk? Your whole room?”

He doesn’t give me a chance to answer but walks down the stairs, carefully avoiding hitting the trunk against the narrow walls.

I give my room one last sweeping glance before I leave and close the door. I’m almost knocked over by Charlie, who’s also lugging his trunk down the stairs.

“See, Perce, I’m all ready! I just have to have my breakfast and then we can leave. Is that quick enough for you?” he asks jokingly, poking me playfully in the ribs.

It’s a small, insignificant gesture that many people would over-look, but I know what it means, and I smile gratefully at him. After all, Charlie Weasley is not famed for being early for things.

“Seriously, it might just be me, but my trunk seems to get heavier year after year,” he says, exhaling heavily. He quickly glances at me. “There’s nothing valuable in it. I could just push it down the stairs.”

“Isn’t your cauldron in it?” I ask him perplexedly.

“Percy, I could drop that thing off the Astronomy Tower and it wouldn’t have a scratch on it.”

A wicked smile flickers briefly across my face. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Charlie looks momentarily surprised at my reaction, but seizes his opportunity. With a swift shove, it goes thundering down the rickety flight of stairs. It makes a ridiculous amount of noise - like listening to thunder when you’re in the attic. We go running after it, ready to push it down its final journey from the first floor to the bottom, when Mum pops her head out of the door at the bottom of the stairs.

“What’s all the racket about? I thought Fred and George were outside playing Quidditch?”

“They are, Mum, Charlie just knocked his trunk down the stairs by mistake,” I lie smoothly.

“Charlie, you really need to be more careful,” she admonishes.

“Sorry, Mum,” he apologises.

Charlie waits until she potters back into the living room before turning to me.

“You know something, Perce? Maybe you are a true Weasley after all,” he says proudly, clapping me on the back.

Together we lift his trunk down the stairs and out towards the car. After placing it alongside mine and Bill’s, Charlie checks his watch.

“It’s only quarter past ten now. You don’t mind leaving ’till half past, do you, Perce?” he asks me.

I nod. “I don’t mind. As long as we do leave at half past and not twenty to eleven.”

He laughs. “Not a bother.”

I can’t help but grin as we head back to the house together. I may be annoying Percy, who’s obsessed with being early and apparently has no sense of humour, but perhaps, like Charlie said, I’m a true Weasley after all.