An Eight Year Lesson in Humility

***1988***

Molly had been looking forward to this Carnival for years. Celebration of spring and then the Roman New Year had been a part of British wizardry in some fashion since Gallia was divisa in partes tres. Caesar's armies has cemented the tradition, and wizards now celebrated Carnival every time February gave the world an extra day to party. The Weasley family had managed to rent a flat in Hogsmeade to pass the holiday week together, and the boys seemed to be enjoying one another.

Or rather, they were, until the twins cracked an egg over Percy's head, and Percy finally snapped and pulled his wand on his brothers. Arthur had leapt in front of the twins and Molly had dragged Percy into a corner, whereupon she proceeded to give him the dressing down of his life for over-reacting, threatening unarmed children, and generally behaving like a hotheaded idiot.

Five minutes on, she was still going. Percy nodded at her but couldn't look her in the eye; he was terribly ashamed that he had given her reason to chastise him. He was the responsible son, the one who always did things right, and he couldn't remember ever having been the target of her wrath before.

"Percy Weasley, look at me. Right now!"

He lifted his eyes to meet his mother's gaze. Her flinty glare softened just a bit at his shameful, tear-filled expression.

"Percy, you made a mistake, and I am not proud of your behavior today." Percy swallowed hard and nodded again.

She continued a bit more softly. "But you don't have to be perfect, love. Just you will always be enough."

***1992***

Hogwarts was awash with color and noise as the school wound down its celebration of Carnival. This final day, the 29th of February, was the pinnacle of celebrations and by tradition it made a mockery of social boundaries. Accordingly, Percy had been stripped of his Prefect status and had spent the day as a 1st year Hufflepuff. Snape had thrilled to give him and three painfully earnest 11-year-olds detention with Filch, and he had been hounded by Peeves all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. Fred and George taunted him as he made his way through the common room, laughing that he'd never had the bollocks to be a Gryffindor and had finally found his place as a Huffleduffer. Percy slammed into his dormitory with a laughing Oliver behind him.

Oliver laughed as he reached up to take Percy by the shoulders. "Ah, Perce, they're just taking the piss. You need to learn to laugh at yourself, you giant pillock."

Oliver punctuated this last with a lingering squeeze to Percy's biceps. The sober boy turned to look his grinning friend full in the face and was struck by the amused affection in Oliver's eyes. Ollie's grin widened and he shook Percy slightly by the shoulders as he continued to chuckle.

And Percy cracked a smile, shook his head, and began to laugh.

***1996***

Percy could hear laughter and music and the occasional 'pop' of noisemakers from adjoining flats and fireworks and lights danced in the streets and flashed through his windows, but he was not up for celebration this year. The events of the last months had caught up with him and he felt smothered by the detritus of his quest for perfection. He had intentionally alienated his family and had shunned his parents at a time when they had needed him.

He felt a deep sense of shame for perhaps only the second time in his life. He vaguely recalled how once, several years ago, his mother had become enraged with him over something. What struck him most now was the strange relief that memory brought him. The details of the episode were unclear, but coinciding with his guilt was a sense of acceptance, the feeling that his mother accepted him because of his flaws, rather than in spite of them.

Percy knew that he had always taken himself far too seriously, Ollie had taught him that while they were still in school, but he had never expected to hurt people by doing so.

Suddenly, he had to get out of this room.

~*~*~

Percy looked around at the front of the house where he had grown up. Perhaps it was his long absence, but things looked different. The bleakness of late February usually cast The Burrow in a most unflattering light; the cold and damp made the paint peel faster, the lack of greenery lent an air of desperate austerity, and the grey of the stone echoed the grey of the sky echoed the grey mud in the forecourt. Today, Percy saw only memories and the shreds of what he had lost, and even if it wasn't exactly beautiful, it warmed him.

He caught a glimpse of his mother through a frosty window as he knocked. Molly opened the faded door; she paled, then flushed, then reached for him.