The yearning for excellence is hardly a fault. Percy merely hadn't received much in the way of effective guidance from his elders and mentors.
His mother, Mrs. Weasley, naturally played a positive role, but her encouragement to become a better wizard did little to alleviate his confusion. His father, Arthur, on the other hand, had quite the opposite effect. As an unseen power, possessing both the authority to make laws and enforce them, his restraint in exercising his own rights made him appear rather like a contented niffler, quite unambitious.
Yet, he wasn't always so restrained. Arthur's misuse of power in his private passions (the reckless enchantment of Muggle artifacts) and personal vendettas (the thorough search of Malfoy Manor) made it truly difficult for Percy to find proper guidance.
It's hard to imagine the havoc Arthur might wreak as Minister for Magic. Goodness alone cannot guide a great ship far; wisdom is the true compass. Otherwise, Dumbledore wouldn't have considered Fudge over Arthur all those years ago.
Percy always appeared to have a clear path, but perhaps no one was more adrift than he. His confusion stemmed from having too many choices; indeed, his brilliance presented him with a multitude of options, yet he knew not which to seize.
Then, on a dreary, rain-soaked day, the young wizard beheld a light. Professor Lockhart brandished his wand at the heavens, and a cascade of brilliance illuminated the path ahead.
Percy yearned for guidance.
And guidance he did receive, but it still couldn't banish his bewilderment. Professor Lockhart seemed unwilling to say more, merely setting him to work.
Very well.
Work it was, then.
Percy hoped that by diligently assisting the professor, he might receive more profound instruction.
But strangely, as he meticulously wielded his wand, cleansing every nook and cranny, striving to employ the Scouring Charm more efficiently and effortlessly, his unsettled and wandering heart unexpectedly found its anchor.
He felt an unprecedented calm.
Gradually, he began to lose himself in the enchantment that magic bestowed upon him—a delight he had never before experienced. It was difficult to articulate. In the past, the joy he derived from skillfully using magic came from the superiority he felt compared to others, from the praise of his professors, parents, and brothers, and from the admiration or envy of his classmates.
Now, however, he felt the joy that magic itself brought forth.
He grew increasingly adept at the Scouring Charm, a spell he had instinctively overlooked before, and the effects of his magic visibly underwent subtle transformations.
Finally, he had thoroughly cleaned every corner of the small house. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the room was so immaculate it seemed to glow, filling him with profound satisfaction.
Yet, when he hurried to the professor to boast of his efforts, the professor merely shook his head, saying, "Not enough, Percy."
Not enough?
But it was already so clean!
Percy was somewhat bewildered, even feeling a faint resentment, a longing for approval met with denial. Yet, he ultimately turned back to continue tidying the house. After a moment's thought, he began to attempt the Reparo Charm to mend some damaged parts.
And then he was criticized.
"That's not how you use a Reparo Charm."
Lockhart had appeared behind him at some point, scrutinizing the varnish on the mended staircase banister, shaking his head. "You'll erase centuries of history from this old house. Do you understand 'restore to original condition'? You can make it clean and gleaming, but you mustn't destroy its very essence."
Percy was confused, momentarily at a loss.
"Breathing, can you grasp the concept of breathing?" Lockhart instructed. "Breathing is fundamental to sustaining life. It seems like an individual act, but in truth, it's the interaction between life and the world."
"Magic is the same. It appears to be your own affair, but magic is truly the interaction between you and the object of your spell."
"When you cast a spell, you mustn't only focus on yourself. Unwavering will, extraordinary intellect, wondrous imagination, boundless desire—these are not enough!"
"You must focus on the object of your spell, be it a person, an object, or even an event. You must attend to it, enter into it, interact with it, to perceive its very essence."
"Just as you breathe."
Percy had previously displayed immense talent in mastering magical techniques, but when it came to grasping these enigmatic principles, he seemed rather clumsy.
The professor looked quite displeased, shaking his head. "Until you grasp this, do not touch my house again. You will ruin it."
Percy's face instantly flushed, and for a moment, he didn't know what to do.
Fortunately, the professor was still willing to grant him an opportunity. He lifted a ceramic cauldron from a nearby shelf and casually hurled it to the floor. With a clatter, it shattered into many pieces.
The professor gazed down. "Thirty-six fragments. That means you have thirty-six opportunities to try. Try to mend each fragment."
Magic can sometimes be incredibly difficult to describe precisely with words. All magical theories are, in a way, flawed; they merely serve as a guide to help one approach the correct answer.
But this method wasn't suited for Percy.
He had realized this when teaching Hermione. These rule-bound children, who preferred rote learning, shouldn't be inundated with too much theory; it would only lead them astray. Instead, they should be encouraged to simply try. With enough practice, the 'feel' for it would emerge.
Lockhart cast the Reparo Charm upon one of the fragments. The fine dust and debris on the floor swiftly gathered, perfectly adhering the piece. Not only that, but its missing parts were restored, yet it still bore the rich patina of extensive use, brimming with the character of age.
If one were to perceive it closely, it seemed to whisper tales of the cauldron's owner in bygone days.
"This is your reference answer," he said, and then turned and departed.
This was a rather old-fashioned method of instruction, where the master provided the answer, then left the apprentice to ponder how to achieve it. Thus, the elusive 'feel' and 'inspiration' of experience were passed down.
This method was highly inefficient and difficult to standardize, requiring prolonged, one-on-one guidance.
Most crucially, sometimes the master himself had taken a wrong turn, in which case there was no remedy. The apprentice could only hope to grasp the 'feel' for themselves, then think and discern to correct any errors.
Percy picked up the mended fragment, staring at it blankly. He gazed at the professor's receding back with a confused expression, then finally knelt, drew his wand, and earnestly began to experiment.
At midday, the professor called him to the Hog's Head Inn next door for a bite. He said little, returning to the small house to busy himself with his own affairs.
And so, Percy once more immersed himself in contemplating the Reparo Charm.
Not long after, another knock sounded at the door.
He opened it to find a second-year student, the stout sidekick who always trailed behind Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe.
Crabbe hadn't come of his own accord; Lockhart had summoned him.
According to school regulations, second-year students were not yet permitted to visit Hogsmeade Village on weekends. For Crabbe to come, Professor Lockhart himself had to apply to Professor McGonagall.
A twelve-year-old wizard without his parents, and a professor willing to teach him more—Professor McGonagall, seeing Crabbe's dull, simple demeanor, sighed and approved the request.
But in truth, Crabbe was here to work.
This student, who had been tutored by Lockhart earlier, evidently grasped the tasks more quickly. He held a torch aloft, clearing away any lingering dark forces from the nooks and crannies of what appeared to be a centuries-old wooden house.
It was intriguing how different the two students learning under Lockhart appeared to be. One was utterly clumsy, the other remarkably clever, yet both, with a curious blend of awkwardness and innate talent, stumbled along his magical path.
One moved towards 'reality,' thereby remaining grounded, allowing their latent abilities to blossom.
The other moved towards 'mystery,' thus lifting their feet from the earth, their inherent magic no longer confined.
Lockhart observed the two young wizards with keen interest, offering guidance from time to time.
"Professor, I've found something!"
Crabbe suddenly raised his hand, vigorously waving the torch. Flames danced, casting flickering light into the shadowy corner.
Percy, clearly reacting swiftly, hurried forward, instinctively positioning himself in front of the younger student, his wand firmly clasped. "What's happened?"
"Indeed, what have you found?" Lockhart chuckled, casually munching on an apple he'd brought from the Great Hall during lunch. He offered no further hints, merely observing to see if they could manage the impending crisis.
"I don't know," Crabbe answered forthrightly. He didn't understand, and he was quite direct about it. Under Lockhart's guidance, he once more carefully sensed the information flowing from the flame. "It's like an itch in my soul."
"???" Percy, who had been stern and vigilant, turned to Crabbe with a bewildered expression, as if to confirm he hadn't misheard. "An itch in your soul?"
"An itch in your soul?" Lockhart nodded, acknowledging Crabbe's perception of this dark magical force. "Excellent, you've touched upon the very nature of magical energy."
"It's just…"
Crabbe scratched his head, struggling to find the words. He finally resorted to gesturing, scratching his hand. "It feels so itchy, but when I scratch it, I can't reach it. It's deeper."
"It's a dark magical creature," Lockhart instructed, looking at Percy. "Tell me, what kind of dark magical creature would cause such an effect?"
"Fairyflies!" With the answer now pointed in the right direction, as a brilliant scholar, Percy needed no further prompting. The answer came to him instantly.
"They make people feel restless and uneasy, but one can't quite pinpoint the source of the unease. If such dark magical creatures appear in a house, they can cause wizards and Muggles alike to suffer from insomnia, fluctuating moods, waking up startled, and then being unable to fall back asleep. However, they don't affect non-human life forms."
That's what a top student is like, indeed.
Percy finally saw a look of satisfaction on the professor's face and couldn't help but puff out his chest, quite pleased with himself.
"Very well, Percy, how do we deal with it?"