Percy turned to meet George's look, "Yes, George, my younger brother and extraordinary inventor, I do believe you are right, both of you, hell all of you. I was wrong," he said, the words catching in his throat, making it hard for him to swallow for a moment, "I was bloody fucking so off the mark that I should have been dragged out of the Ministry by my smallest digits, and tortured with fucking garden gnomes latched onto my body parts. I was wrong about all of it."
He turned his eyes from his brother, his face flushed slightly, "It's not easy to admit I was wrong, especially to you two. You are no picnic when it comes to sugar coating the truth to me. But Dad.....I don't think Dad will ever talk to me again. How can he? He won't believe what I have to say," and he turned to the fridge, and then paused, and turned back to his brothers.
"I sent you good Fire-whiskey. Is it all gone or may I beg a glass? I need something a bit stronger than beer at the moment," and he paused, glancing at Fred and grimaced slightly, "I'd love to see Mum. You both know that. Hell, I've fucked it all up, rather spectacularly I'd say for that last few years," and he waited for more of an on-slot from his brothers.