"Wh-what happened here, Professor Weasley?" Filch held up his lantern, its yellow glow swaying in the dim corridor, and got a clear look at Percy's condition.
He stared at Percy's miserable state, his face full of bewilderment.
But when he caught the almost suffocating stench of Dungbombs in the air, he immediately guessed who was responsible and covered his nose in disgust.
"This is all George and Fred's doing!" Percy spat through gritted teeth.
"Would you like me to catch them for you? Or help you get free?" Filch was decidedly deferential. After all, Percy was a professor now.
"No, that won't be necessary." Percy shook his head. He did know a little wandless magic, though he wasn't particularly good at it.
More than ten minutes later, filthy and seething with anger, Percy finally freed himself and hurried to the professors' bathroom. The smell of Dungbombs was hardly pleasant.
Steam hung thick in the professors' bathroom.
Percy submerged himself in the bath, scrubbing his skin furiously while plotting how to teach George and Fred a lesson.
He knew very well that his two younger brothers were no easy opponents.
Beating them at their own games was virtually impossible. The best approach, naturally, was to use his authority as a professor and crush them with the rules.
Ripples spread across the bath, and Percy's thoughts drifted back to Hagrid.
In truth, he knew better than anyone that George and Fred's furious retaliation tonight had been because of Hagrid.
But what choice did he have? Wasn't he doing it all for the Weasley family?
Unfortunately, not one member of his family understood his true intentions.
As one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Weasley family still attracted considerable attention in the wizarding world. Anyone with even a little understanding of the situation knew