Order Only: Lunch with Percy

Although he made a show of being pleased with his new job, I picked up that he's feeling uneasy. Some of his professional acquaintances who he expected to be, well, more likely to grovel, are instead giving him the cold shoulder. But more significantly, after a little bit of prodding, he finally admitted to me that he thinks someone's been in his flat.

At his request, I swung by after work to examine his wards myself (and yes, the irony that I'm checking over Percy's wards when I've gone to such trouble to ward him OUT of the Burrow does not escape me). All seemed normal, and even he admitted he didn't detect any difference when he entered and exited.

Yet he still insists, with precious little evidence, that someone's been there. I wouldn't believe him, except here's the thing: Percy's absolutely a nutter about how he arranges his stuff. If he's right, whoever came in and out was very professional, but perhaps they didn't know that Percy tends to line up his parchments on his desk so the edges match exactly. He doesn't just place objects back in the same places, he places them back exactly the same way. He stacks his teacups so that the handles nest together. The pillowcases always point to the right, and the edges are tucked under. The handle of his hairbrush is always an inch from the edge of the dresser.

And sometime in the past week, he has noticed a slight, a very slight, disarrangement.

I checked for eavesdropping or cursed objects, everything I could think of, but didn't find anything amiss.

He thanked me politely enough for making the check, but I don't think he was entirely reassured.

Neither was I.