#professor weasley.

[prodigalpercy]

sometimes on quiet days, percy will revisit the place fred died while in the castle. he’d cry in the beginning, but as the years have gone on, he just feels somber in front of the wall.

[prodigalpercy]

@aystorias​ liked for a starter!

    “ -- -- it’s WEIRD, isn’t it?”  percy asks as he leans against the castle wall, looking at the familiar paintings -- and everything that was salvaged after the battle of hogwarts.  he still doesn’t believe he’s. . . here.  and he’s avoided the hall where fred died;  he can’t stomach it.  hell, even he and peeves have called a truce after his brother’s death.  sometimes, percy feels like he can still hear fred’s last laugh.  why had he come to torture himself here?  well, because he believes in teaching the next generation. . .

and mcgonagall cornered him in his grief and nearly bullied him ( affectionately ) into the position.  she had become a second mother to him, especially as he sought her guidance whilst still in school.  still, professor weasley was still odd to hear.  he wonders if astoria feels the same way;  they’re both still so young.  “being back here. . . i never thought i’d be teaching here.”

[prodigalpercy]

@wlfcursed​ gets a smol starter!

    he thinks he’s ALONE in the hall. . .  honestly, percy is still conflicted about taking the position offered to him by mcgonagall.  the school year will start within a few weeks, and he has already settled into his new home: hogwarts. the halls are familiar, and he is thankful to see them all reconstructed. . .  not the ruins he left fred in.  still.  he feels haunted here.  percy does not even know if he is cut out to be a teacher.  he should have. . . stayed at the ministry or --

he hears a noise and looks up.  “shit,”  percy says under his breath and sniffles, pulling off his glasses to wipe tears that have trickled down his cheeks.  he clears his throat, turning toward the direction of the sound.  “to think, i lived here for seven years, and i still sometimes get lost.”  percy says to lyra, seeing her there in the dim light of the torches.  “how are you, madam reed?”