Percy Weasley

06/30/2021 01:42 PM  Coup (Pain & Blood)                 1 August, 1997 Breaths came in short and sharp gasps, heart racing against the speed in which he took down the flights of stairs to level six. Every instinct was to get to the apparition testing room, follow Scrim’s orders and get out, but his mind faltered between what was logical and what was right. The room came into focus, just within Percy’s grasp as he slowed to a stop. He could hear the shouts echo up through the corridors, some higher than others, while a cackling laughter sent the hair’s on his neck on edge.  C O W A R D The word hissed through his mind, a merciless taunt as he stalled at the only means of escape he had. Scrim knew, had some idea that death eater would be coming and got out as many people as he could. Tried to get him out. Scrim walked out from his office into the oncoming attack, his head high knowing that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. He didn’t run and hide, didn’t cower like a recreant. He acted like the auror he had been trained to be, nothing short of a true Minister of Magic. It explained everything, the odd conversation about how Percy would be needed later on, that this wasn’t his fight; but it was. The Ministry was his home.  The decision was fluid, a swift turn that had Percy stalking away from his second chance, a new life and directly into the threat. If the death eaters wanted him dead, they would find him no matter where he hid. And if he was going to die, Percy wasn’t planning to go out quietly. He would die protecting the one place that always felt like home to him, that always accepted him for who he was.  The scene at the mouth of the atrium was brutal, death eaters flooding in from the floo network as the aurors who remained tried to push them back in. Flashes of color streaked the air, curses thrown in every direction. While the aurors aimed to injure and disarm the death eaters came with only one intention. Kill as many as they could. Bodies sprawled out over the ground, lifeless faces of people Percy hardly knew seared into his mind, a stark reminder to the reality of what they were facing. Through the chaos Percy spotted Scrim, his face twisted in a snarl as he threw everything into his own curses against the death eaters that were circling him like a pack of vultures; each ready to be the one to take the first bite. The Ministry was greatly outmatched, so many staff members missing that could have aided and drove out the death eaters, but the deaths would have been greater as well. Their numbers dropped drastically as more fell to the killing curse. “Expulso!” Percy’s teeth barred as he waved his wand furiously. There was a jet of blue that hit home in death eaters chest, bone crunching against the wall as they slumped down unconscious. He barely caught the look of gratitude from Scrim, a fury building as everything Percy had been holding in erupted.  He should have been at Bill’s wedding, should have been watching his eldest brother get married but instead he was alone in the battle. His family didn’t want him there, they never truly wanted him even when things were good between them and it shattered him inside and out. Everything he had done, all the bullsh*t he put up with in having to raise not just his siblings at Hogwarts but Harry as well, forgotten. All of his family had made mistakes along the way, went against their parents about their futures, but only he was singled out for his. Always perfect, never able to misbehave or act like a blundering teenager like his brothers had. He had to live up to the idea of Perfect Percy until he made one mistake, a single momentary lapse of judgment from a broken heart, and he was quickly severed from the family, hoops of fire set for him to jump through if he wanted back in.  Percy snarled, his own magic turning lethal as he fought to get to Scrim’s side, pain pouring into every slash of his wand. His father knew, knew of the dangers Percy was in. He saw the same numbers, the same empty chairs of higher up officials rise that Percy did and still he did nothing. There was no attempt by Arthur to fix things, to even see if Percy was alright or safe. He went about his days, oblivious to the terror that his son lived in, a constant paranoia of when he would be next. The possibility of Percy’s death made no difference to the Weasley’s, what would the difference be if he died now? Would they see him as brave and valiant, or would he still be the traitorous prat? A streak of green cleared his peripheral vision, Percy’s own attack ceased as he staggered forward. There was a brief swell of panic as he turned in time to deflect the curse only to be hit with another that sent him to the ground. Backed into a corner, Percy’s eyes never left Scrim as they hauled him away into the lift, the Minister’s head high and still defiant. Percy knew it deep in his gut this was the end, was certain that he wouldn’t make it beyond the point. Briefly, his mind flickered to his family and then to Zoshia, panic melding into bile in his stomach that slowly inched its way up his throat. Percy’s wand quivered as he kept deflecting, no chance to go on an attack of his own. He shook not in fear of death, a part of him almost welcoming it. No, he shook in the veracity of his loneliness; that he was dying alone and not a soul in his family would care. A sudden rush of pain jolted throughout Percy’s body, five death eaters descending like vultures. It was all in vain, every defensive spell used to block the hexes and curses. There was nowhere for him to go. Percy saw no way out from what was happening. His mouth was soaked in the taste of his own blood, Percy’s teeth clenched into his tongue as the curse hit him from the side before he could block it. Bruised and winded, Percy lunged for the nearest death eater, head pounding as he did what all of his siblings would have in a time like this. Knuckles cracked over the mask, one astounding hit that left him vulnerable as he scrambled past, lanky limbs tumbling over the body as Percy made a run. There was no logic behind it, no thought or consideration for himself as he tried to get to the lift. It was a one in a million chance he would cause enough of a distraction that Scrim would be able to break the Anti-Disapparition Jinx long enough to apparate out. Air knocked from his lungs, Percy hit the floor before he even took three steps. The death eater advanced, the horror like mask inching closer, light reflecting against it that gave it a cheshire grin like expression. Arms ached as Percy pulled himself back, a blind search for his wand, vision blurred under the cracked glasses. “Cruico.” The pain wasn’t sharp like a needle or a knife, nothing at all like how it was described it the books. It started at his very core, a burn that scorched his insides in pulsating waves that grew with strength. Percy’s mind hollowed as the pain drove through his back, limbs twisted unnaturally as his body convulsed on the ground. There was a gurgle in Percy’s attempt to breathe or to scream, anything that would allow a passage of oxygen to his lungs but the more he tried the more contorted his body arched. A moment of piece allowed him to reclaim a fragment of his mind, muscles tense against the twitch that held control over him. All at once it tore through him as he was hit again with the Cruciatus curse, fresh trauma to his body that had him longing for death.  Percy laid on the ground, pale face closed in a grimace, a blinding pain seared across his mind, muted his desire to scream through agony. He tried to hold it back, to keep it lodged in the back of his throat, but it tore through him as the curse strengthened. It held a raw quality to it, kept his mind latched to the reality that the noise coming from him was real, that he was being consumed by pain that held no limit until his body gave in. The scream shredded his throat, Percy’s eyes wide as he stared unseeing.  “Avada -”  “Don’t kill him.” The killing curse would have been a mercy. Pain cascaded down his body, the curse leaving him, but the effects lingered. Percy’s scream fell into silence, mouth rigid and open as his eyes remained wide with horror. Chalky face gaunt and twisted, his hands shook as they clenched in fists, nails digging into the palm of his hand until red leaked from the grooves, jolts of the curse coursing through him.  He didn’t need to look over to know the voice, Percy’s eyes closed tightly to the ghost that advanced on him. He was dead; he had to be dead. Percy witnessed his trial, saw them haul him away to Azkaban; the only thing Fudge ever did that Percy fully agreed with. The breath was hot, stunk of cigarettes that had him wanting to crawl away, Percy’s own limbs refusing to move, screamed out in protest as pain electrified through him. A small pathetic noise escaped him as Percy curled in on himself, the only protection he now had. “The Dark Lord wants little Weatherby alive.” Even through the agony and cracked glasses, Percy saw the unmasked face of Barty Crouch Jr. clearly as he leered down at him. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun while he deals with ol' Scrimgeour.” It was the last thing Percy saw, the end of Barty’s wand pointed directly at him with a perfectly devilish smile before his world went black. Ministry Falls Series; Part 3 This was a piece done for ｐａｉｎ ａｎｄ ｂｌｏｏｄ．who is no longer on the site. While I have edited the original piece, I have kept this in respect to a writer that I deeply respect and admire. He helped me shape Percy in the darkest moments of his storyline.  0 Comments

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06/26/2021 09:53 PM  The bid (ft: Miles) 21 October 2005 “How do you feel about the announcement of Miles Bletchley running for Minister?” Percy’s head snapped in the question’s direction with a puzzled look. “Bletchley, the death eater?” “Well, reformed death eater.” He bit back the initial response with a tight smile, forced down the rant that rose with a swell of anger that the rumors were true. Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, counted his breaths until the rapid pace in his chest steadied. He didn’t mind competition, there was plenty of it in the bid for Minister of Magic; everyone desperate to ride on the coattails of Kingsley with hardly any original thoughts or ideas. He loved the debate of it all, being so free to speak on ideas instead of silenced, but the subject of death eaters was dangerous. There were two extremes on the topic that would cost approval ratings and votes to drop no matter what one said, most skirting the topic to avoid any upset. Percy wasn’t most. “Reformed death eaters, they don’t exist. Do I believe young people who were part of that group, who followed those core beliefs deserve a second chance; of course. They can learn and they can grow but I wouldn’t dare call them reformed. Those that were innocent, truly innocent, were released from Azkaban after their trials. The majority released were young adults forced into a lifestyle and they received barbaric treatment from the world. We had to start sending aurors to protect these people after three were found murdered, and seven found dead by their own hands because they couldn’t cope with the threats and inability to start a life. Of those that remained, more than half fled the country. People who were truly innocent were forced to take the blame for death eaters actions and now . . . now, we aren’t just releasing death eaters and giving them high positions but a proposal for a death eater to be Minister of Magic is being taken seriously?” Percy looked out, his nostrils flared. Even as the words left his mouth, he still couldn’t comprehend them. In the desire to laugh about it, he stood taller, took on the old persona he held in his youth with his chest puffed up and chin high. His drive to win grew in that moment, a promise to himself that it would be a cold day in hell that he would ever allow a death eater to hold such a sacred position. He didn’t care if he lost approval from the death eater apologists, they were often the ones who hid when the war became reality. “To that, I implore that you think of the lives lost and destroyed by death eaters and their followers. The ministry workers who fell during the coup and the months of torture that followed. The muggleborns and everyone who tried to protect them that received kisses of death either during their trial or at Azkaban. The students and professors that laid down their lives to protect Hogwarts. The mothers and fathers who had to bury a child, and the child left alone from a senseless war before you continue to grant these people places of power.”  Percy spoke eloquently, his words poised and direct, the subtle hints of anger masked with a polite smile. “History is doomed to repeat itself if we never bother to learn from it. After the first war, we did what we are currently doing now. We are allowing people we know who committed true atrocities back into places of influence and power. People who were very quick to turn and kill us when their master returned. I speak as someone who had to work alongside the person who tortured me, that the actions we are taking today are deeply affecting the victims - the survivors of the war while greatly aiding to better the perpetrator's lives at the expense of the mental health of those they hurt. To know that we are even considering the bid for what is a self-proclaimed reformed death eater is a slap in the face to everyone who fought in the war, everyone who lost their life or the life of a loved one. That, is all I have to say on the matter.” Prompt For: Venator Praedae Prompt choice: This is why we can't have nice things 0 Comments

06/22/2021 02:42 PM  A call for change 01 October 2005 “Do you honestly believe someone like you is fit to lead?” Percy’s head cocked to the side, a small smile that touched his lips. It was only the trial hearing, a chance for those running to make their case heard. He knew it would have only been a matter of time before the question surfaced, he simply didn’t expect it to be the first one. Back straight, his hand lifted to bring the murmur of voices down, the apology in which the question had been worded. They saw him as fragile, an explosion just waiting to happen.  “No, it’s alright. In fact, I encourage questions regarding my mental health; both past and present because what better way to raise awareness where so many times you have silenced me? What better way to have others who are suffering in silence see that they are not alone.” Fingers drummed over the stand and Percy’s attention lingered on every face in the crowd before him as he collected his thoughts on the matter, the majority of which were the same faces that had sat there when he first started at the Ministry.  “Everyone here has in one way or another been affected by the wars - and yes I mean wars. I was five when the first war ended and I’m the youngest person in this room by nine years. You look at me and see something weak, somehow as less than a person because I let my emotions get the better of me.”  He paused as the shift of the room increased, a tension as the weight of his words took hold. “To you, I’m lacking the strength of a leader because I could no longer bottle down my trauma. I look out at all of you and what bothers me the most is how as a whole, we have learned nothing.” “You say we need a strong leader. A real leader. Now, mind you, I served as junior assistant for three very different Ministers and I can tell you which one you all resemble. It is not the one who worked in the Order and led the charge to protect Hogwarts. It is not the one who was thrust into the role and tried to protect as many employees as he could before he fought to his death. No, you remind me of the one who lived by old faith, who lashed out at employees and refused to acknowledge problems. The one who believed if you ignored it enough, the problem would simply . . . go away.”  Percy stepped out from behind the stand, eyes hardened. He counted how many looked down in possible shame, how everyone in the room knew who he spoke of without ever needing to mention a name. “I used to believe that the Ministry was a place of protection and justice, the building blocks to our society. I held to that belief through the worst years of my life. I was one of the most loyal employees even after the ministry used me as a scapegoat and then stabbed me in the back repeatedly. I fought to prove it was still the place I believed it was as you shamed Harry Potter and allowed slander, and I am just as guilty in the aiding of pushing that agenda. You don’t see the problems, but I do. The fact so many have left our world for the muggle world because they do not feel safe or protected doesn’t bother you. Instead, you mocked their fear to the resurgence of death eaters, you had the audacity to complain because they are not making the same mistake twice in trusting us when we say it won’t happen again.  “It will when we refuse to see our past mistakes and grow and change. It will when death eater after death eater is released from Azkaban and given positions of power here within our own ministry! It will when you make those tortured by the very death eaters you are releasing sit through their release trial voiceless! You took survivors' pain and suffering and made it feel like something we should be ashamed of and then have the gall to ridicule us when we break? You do not see the great influx of depression and self-harm rates Mungo’s is experiencing from people my age or younger as a crisis. You see it as weakness and hold an issue to those who want change.” He scoffed slightly as he wiped his glasses on the end of his tie. “You see problems in people like Hermione Granger who had to fight for women’s equality here within the Ministry after being a victim herself. People like Olivia Flint who is currently fighting to have protections in place at Hogwarts for students in abusive households and you are blocking her appeals. My brother who challenged the laws in regards to creatures and the horrifically laxed laws in regards to dragons and those who poach them. You fought me, tooth and nail on the protection of new and upcoming ministry employees. You rejected my proposals twelve times, citing my past as a reason to ignore me when they were the very reasons the protections needed to be in place.” Percy’s lips quirked up into a smirk as they shifted in the uncomfortable silence he allowed to fall. He wanted it to sink in as deep as it could, make them see change was coming with or without them.  “A strong leader is someone who understands the people they lead. It is someone who doesn’t shy away from topics or issues because it makes them uncomfortable. It is someone who uses their power and influence to aid those in need and not just the top people and shut down attempts to reform and grow with the world. Someone who can admit to the errors of their past and have learned from them rather than blaming another. “If we wish to become the place of justice once again, a place that people look to, we need to open our minds and embrace change. Kingsley took the brunt of the aftershock of the war and mended us, but we have not healed. I want to go further and remove the divide that still exists between blood status. Set and design new protections and job opportunities for those afflicted with Lycanthropy and other non-humans rather than shunning them. Whether or not I make it as Minister of Magic, I will continue my bid for bettering mental health in our world and remove the stigma associated with it. I will maintain my fight for the protection of new and upcoming employees as well as those you once deemed lower than us, people we allowed to be abused.” He retreated to the stand, the smile wide on his face as more people nodded than frowned, agreed with at least some of the things he said. He stood a chance and pride swelled in his chest, a soft thank you for taking the time to hear his bid.  HC: After being rehired at the Ministry, Percy starts to advocate for the protection of young and new employees in the Ministry. He faced extreme backlash as he expanded in a call for mental health awareness which pushed him to fight harder for it, the way his own past was treated as something to be ashamed of.  Writers note: MASSIVE THANK YOU to 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫. нerмιone Dragon Seeker and 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃. for letting me pick their brains for causes their characters are a part of; Molly at Mungo's and dealing with the rise in cases. Hermione and her Amelia Bones foundation. Charlie and his fight for the dragons and Olivia for the protection of abused students at Hogwarts. 0 Comments

06/22/2021 02:42 PM  Unseen 2 March 1999 “You were incredibly lucky, if your friend had brought you in any later . . .” Hooded eyes followed around the pink scrubs, gave the impression that he heard the words and wasn’t lost in a world of his own. Everything burned inside him, the weight of the events heavy on his chest. There were only flashes to everything that happened, fragments Percy couldn’t piece together in order for it to make sense. The courtroom. Selwyn’s face, the twisted smile that brought phantom pains to the surface. Felix’s voice that twisted in with Kingsley’s words . . .  “Under the agreed provision that he works in our auror department, one M. Selwyn is released and cleared of all charges against him.” Percy choked on the sob, buried his face into his bandaged hands as it all came down on him though he had nothing left in his memories, nothing but the monsters in his head screaming. He had been close to succeeding, fear in the realization but anger that he had been saved; that people wasted energy to make sure he lived.  “Percy?” Andromeda looked up from the potions, a tremble in the always steady hands. Doe eyes widened, her face screwed up to words he didn’t say but felt like he didn’t need to - she understood, heard the brokenness deep inside him. “Would you like me to get your mum?” His head shook, a pitiful attempt to regain control over himself. He didn’t know how to explain what happened, how to tell his mother he had tried to take his own life, that the man who tortured him for months had been set free and would be working just a level below him. That he was so weak he couldn’t fight; not for what was right or his own life.  “No, I don't want her anywhere near me.” Percy swallowed hard, the thoughts that refused to rest attacked him relentlessly. He wanted nothing more than to see his mother, that even in her anger he would know that deep down she still loved him despite all his mistake. “I’ve done enough damage already, I've hurt her enough. I don’t want to burden her with my issues. She . . . please don’t tell her. I don’t think she would forgive me. I don't know what I'll do if she turns on me as well.” “What do you mean?” She glanced at the door for a moment, a look of distress, clearly flustered. Her voice was as kind as her face, someone who had their entire life ripped from them by the war but stood tall in the fight. A face that reminded him so much of his childhood, the face of his mother’s best friend who watched him grow, helped save him once before. Now, Andromeda burned loneliness into his heart, the reminder of what once was for his family. “Forgive you for what?” It was the prod to get him to open up, for all the words he had been keeping to himself that were killing him to break free. He had so much he wanted to say but believed no one wanted to hear it. Everyone still looked at him differently, treated him like he was an extension of the family and not one of them. They didn’t see that he was bent so badly he was broken, that he knew none of them cared he wasn’t okay; that he finally broke. It was the ultimate cruelness of the war, the way it pushed him to the brink of death but kept him at the end of his rope, just alive enough to feel the pain of loneliness.  Their eyes met, one set wide to the vacant stare of the other. Percy’s smile appeared, the same mastered appearance that hid everything wrong with him. Percy knew she knew even if he didn't know how she did. Andromeda always seemed to know, clicked faster with what someone was thinking. It was in the way she looked at him, the pain he had buried long ago that all came together to form a sheet of ice that kept him under, forced his head down until he drowned. “You should have let me go.” Prompt For: 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫. Prompt choice: To hear my muse talking about hers Ft: kind eyes' HC: This is a follow up from Twisted Reality [TW] Felix was the one who found Percy after he almost killed himself by alcohol poisoning and took him to Mungo's where he was treated by Andromeda. It wasn't the first time a Tonks had saved his life, ted saving Percy after the coup.  0 Comments

06/22/2021 02:41 PM  Not broken 08 June 1998 Red hair whipped around her face, Zoshia’s words lost in the cloud of smoke, face tinged in a rosy hue that made her more beautiful than Percy could ever recall. They stood face to face, her features the only thing he could make out through the alcohol-induced haze around him. He watched her like an enigma, something so impossibly quintessential that captured him in a way nothing else ever had. Books, ancient text, knowledge no one else possessed were nothing compared to her. The Ministry was no longer home, no longer granted the safety in acceptance or need. Slowly she took refuge in his heart, burrowed herself into his soul until the only thing he could think was her.  Lips curled up with breath-taking beauty, every ounce of oxygen siphoned from his lungs and brain and left Percy speechless. It always awed him, the way in which her lips could transform her, the way the smallest smile made her glow entirely. Always the watcher, Percy noticed the distinct style her lips turned, smirks and broad grins given to only certain people. Smiles that were ghosts, told him everything that was happening in her mind, where her thoughts had trailed off too. The unique way they quirked up at him, produced a smile that was for him and him alone.  Laughter uprooted from his chest, filled his ears as loudly as it did the vacant street. Under the streetlights, Percy’s face glowed in a deep shade of orange, eyes alight with madness as they stumbled together, fingers interlocked in poor attempts to aid the other towards the stairs. Hours they had been linked, Zoshia’s hand firmly locked around his as she pulled him from pub to pub. It hadn’t been the first time he had been out drinking, but it was a first with Zoshia. With each drink, her features became less screwed up, showed more of the pain she harbored through the trial. It was poor form to breakdown on the stand, showed weakness and fear, and while Zoshia fractured she never broke in her recount of the day her father had been murdered. She aided in making sure Umbridge went to Azkaban while Percy had to sit and watch her smile in anguish that bled into helplessness that he could do nothing for her as the next trial began. Affection. Wants. Desires. They weren’t things Percy concerned himself with. There was never time to give them an ounce of his attention, they were tools of distraction, created a world where one stopped venturing forward due to them. It was why Penelope cheated on him. It was why everyone thought he was a cold, lifeless soul. He never showed affection just as he never craved it for himself. Content on his own, with nothing but friends who understood him but Zoshia . . . Before the war, it crossed his mind, fanciful thoughts that maybe she actually saw him beyond the uptight friend. He allowed her to dance through his thoughts, every free moment consumed by her. Her voice soothed every difficult day, darkest night, or painful moment. She could ease him into a minor state of relaxation the moment she appeared at his side. Now she was a constant, a fight he no longer bothered with. Daydreams that began as simple childish thoughts grew with his feelings, intensified alongside them.  He wanted her. Wanted to know what it was like to kiss her, to have her kiss him back, to feel her skin against his. Hear his name on her lips, not as a friend but a lover. This. This was love and he knew it. Percy loved Zoshia in a way he never thought possible. A future with her didn’t fill him with anxiety as it did with Penelope, it filled him with emotions he had long forgotten; hope, happiness, and returned love. A future he didn’t deserve. Heat rushed across his face, that smile of hers turned up that entranced him, allowed her to pull him in towards her without a fight. A set of heals flew across his flat the moment the door opened, Zoshia’s cackle of pure delight to the sound effects she added. Warmth vanished with her, Percy’s eyes locked curiously on Zoshia as she maneuvered around his flat.  “What are you doing?” Undertones of amusement filled Percy’s voice as he trailed after Zoshia and into his room. It took her a moment to find her bearings, a devious look on her face as she launched herself at the wardrobe. “Oy!”  A rumble of laughter caused a snort of his own, his clothes strewn over the room as Zoshia frantically searched for what she wanted. “Do you need me to make you coffee? Coffee will sober you up.” “I don’t need coffee, I need your shirt.” The words choked him, a blush that set fire to his skin and did what coffee couldn’t in the brief space of time. Words stumbled, mixed together to form a mess of incoherence. “Not the one you’re wearing, you dolt,” she snickered. Her face rounded the door to the wardrobe, brows lifted playfully. “Unless . . .” "Zoshia!" Heat flooded him as he blinked at her rapidly with confusion. Instinctively he pulled his suit jacket tighter around himself, a drop of led in his stomach as she snickered again. “Look at that blush.”  It was a tease, playful and friendly, but Percy willed himself to stop the growing color to his complexion. Wished for her to stop laughing as the smile he wore daily forced itself up to hide the sudden break in his chest. Gaze shifted down, breaths came much slower as he tried to find his walls in the alcoholic mess of his mind. There was a sharp squeal, a noise that brought his attention back up instantly as Zoshia hugged the jumper before shooing him out.  Percy moved with haste, closed the door to his room sharply as he kicked off his own shoes, fought the tie that wound tightly around his neck. With a ragged breath, Percy crossed into his small kitchen all attention of the only pot sat alone on the counter. He worked in muscle memory, paused every now and again in his attempt to make coffee when he thought he heard Zoshia. She had drunk more, took on the belief Percy lived by in trying to drink away what she was feeling. Every ounce of pain and heartbreak never drowned in the spirits but rose to the surface without choice or control.  He heard the noise before he was near his bedroom door, drinks in hand and heart in his throat. “Zosh?” Awkwardly, he nudged the door open, face down as a precaution. “You okay?” “I’m . . .” She hiccuped. “I’m fine.”  It was a lie. He could hear the crack in her voice as she tried to cover the emotional breakdown with her usual tone. There was no question or doubt as he stepped into the room and locked his focus on her sat on his bed curled into his jumper, face wet with tears. His heart dropped at the sight of her, every thought faltered as the buzzed haze lifted to a sober reality.  “Stop looking at me like that.” Fresh tears formed to the words, a look that formed over her face enough to break Percy’s heart into pieces. “Like I’m broken.” Cups set aside, Percy crossed for her instantly. He didn't know what to say, acted purely on impulse as he brushed her hair back. Her eyes were glassy and her smile strained. She didn’t need to say it, he knew the look the pain behind it. Felt it constantly within himself and quietly he pulled her to him. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, didn’t want to replay the same horrors she had to relive out in the courtroom earlier that day. She didn’t want to become trapped to the cycle of her dad’s murder that amplified in nightmares and wake up screaming alone.  She needed him. Arms tightly around her, Percy held Zoshia in as close as he physically could to his chest. There was no uncomfortableness in any embrace with her. He loved them, selfishly hoarded the feel and memory of them whenever they were given. Fingers curled into his shirt, Zoshia’s face nuzzled into the crook of his neck and Percy’s heart stalled. His mind buzzed a smile that crept against his face as she whispered for him. Prompt for 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢 "Stop looking at me like that, like I'm broken"   0 Comments

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06/05/2021 10:30 PM  Maturity Percy's Maturity a study/rant *Contains offensive language*   “You act so mature for your age!” “You must just be such an old soul.” “You’re so mature.” You cannot tell me that these, alongside Perfect Percy, were not common phrases said to him by his family (parents/grandparents) and professors alike. It seems so fitting when you think of Percy’s character, even my own personal take on him, that he is more mature for his age. Hogwarts Percy was literally every parent's wet dream; he did extremely well in school, all the professors loved him, an owl was never sent to the burrow saying he got in trouble and he helped look after his siblings. He acted like an adult since the age of fifteen (that we know of) but more than likely earlier than that, probably before he even went to Hogwarts. There are certain characters that come to mind when we think of mature characters and Percy is one of the main ones, he gave off an air of maturity when in reality he is probably one of the most immature of the lot in some aspects.  Maturity comes in a mix of different forms; physical, social, cognitive, and emotional. There are subcategories to these that I’m not going to get into but these are the main four. Physical maturity is probably the only one we see a middle ground of, he looks a bit older than what he is but that is probably more down to how he styles himself than his actual physical appearance. And it’s interesting because when we see Percy out of his element, like when he just wakes up at the burrow in CoS, he has wild hair and looks very much his age, but then we get to Hogwarts (or later the Ministry) where he styles his hair down and carries himself in a way that makes him appear older. It isn’t anything new, the ability to make yourself look older or younger by how you dress, but what is interesting is that this is the go-to for why Percy is mature for his age, nothing else. In my opinion, cognitive maturity is the reason he should be seen as more mature. Percy Weasley is one of the smartest people throughout the entire series. He is extremely intelligent; one of a small handful of people to get 12 O.W.Ls and left Hogwarts as one of an even smaller handful of people to get perfect N.E.W.Ts. I am so sorry for this baby rant about to come but: JKR wrote him as basically a genius, smarter than Hermione f***ing Granger, and then decided to cuntpunt (o_O I’m so sorry *dies laughing* but I regret nothing) him into a mindless Ministry sh*t head? Percy. The ginger nerd who is the only person in his generation to get perfect N.E.W.Ts loses all common sense? The baby-faced ministry worker who owned the sh*t out of the Ministry his first year working there by running an entire department just decided critical thinking wasn’t his thing anymore? Excuse me . . . the f***? The injustice done to this poor boy that makes it so hard to argue he was extremely mature in a cognitive way because he was at one point and time, and then just randomly went ‘ehh . . . who wants to make decisions?’. So no, I’m not going to count him being mindless because it’s bullsh*t. He was very mature for his age when it came to intelligence, fight me. Now social maturity, this is where things start to go downhill maturity-wise for Percy. Yes, he behaves in ways that are socially acceptable. He is polite and has manners, he talks in a very sophisticated way. He has strong leadership skills and takes on responsibilities without an issue. These are the aspects that make him appear socially mature but under all of that, he is very robotic. He does, says, and acts in ways he knows he needs to given the situation but isn’t very warm about it. It’s as if he observed behaviors, took them in, and just repeated them without adding anything to it. He isn’t a people person, in fact, we don’t see him ever with any friends and only once with Penelope. He is constantly described as up-tight, and rigid. To adults, he is seen as mature in this area but to his peers, he isn’t, it’s a bit like he has a stick up his ass and he can’t really process how to behave (literally) socially. And finally, emotional maturity. This is the one he lacks in the most, the area where many others are more mature than he is in the sense that he doesn’t deal with his emotions or even know how. Much like with social maturity, he knows how to reacts and respond to certain situations. Percy is an extremely calm character and holds himself in constant check, which on the outside looks overly mature but it isn’t. Circling back to the beginning of this, being told that he was mature for his age, that he was an old soul, and that he was Perfect Percy gave him a crumb of validation in a world he did not feel valued in, and he made it his entire identity. The approval he received for his lack of emotional reactions created this person who struggled in coping with negative emotions, as we saw a few times. When Ginny was taken he locked himself away from everyone. The severity of his outburst at Arthur, where he was described as going ‘berserk’. Percy was either extremely in control of himself emotionally or not at all, and when he wasn’t it was so destructive.  Looking at him in this way, where he lacked in maturity because he was always seen as mature that no one looked beyond the surface of his maturity, I can't blame him for his behavior because the thing is; being told he was perfect or mature for his age, was really just people telling him: “You do as you’re told and don’t cause us problems, we like that so keep that sh*t up.”. When he challenged that, when he dared to break away from the ‘mature perfection’ by thinking for himself, he was met with hostility and reacted in a way he couldn’t control or even understand, proof in the fact he ran away and again alienated himself from his entire family.  This emotional immaturity was part of a rant/study that involved book Percy's possibility of suffering from depression that I never got around to finishing but wanted to look a little deeper at his levels of maturity.  1 Comments

06/03/2021 03:15 PM  Writing on the wall 29 May 1993 The quill hovered above the parchment, hand cramped against the hold but he felt none of it. It felt like hours since they had left McGonagall’s office, that in a numbed state Percy had made his way back to the Gryffindor Common room alongside his brothers, broke away as the three looked at him for direction. Against the screaming within, the pain that pounded deeper into him with every beat of his heart, Percy knew on the outside he looked cold and unaffected, that in some way he looked even more like a puffed-up prat given some special responsibility than a grief-stricken brother. He couldn’t help it, it was the only thing that kept him from falling apart. He knew in the glances they were judging him but also looking for guidance that he couldn’t give. He had hoped against hope that he was wrong, that in his frantic search from the corridor with the message to Ginny’s usual hiding places he would find her. His search did nothing but waste precious time they could have spent finding her, a nick of guilt cut into him that he didn’t do the logical thing and get a professor immediately. He wasn’t himself in those moments as he sprinted madly through Hogwarts, the shame he had felt in the way he bullied Katie Bell into checking Ginny’s and Hermione’s dorms, and the fifth year Hufflepuff prefect he made scour all the girls’ lavatories gone in the cloud of despair to what their reality was. He planned to apologize profusely to them once he found Ginny, but they would know why he was behaving so erratically now word got out. Parchment covered his desk, attempts that write home to his parents to let them know what had happened spread before him. Lines crossed out in anger and grief, others with massive inkblots as he sat comatose to the words that eluded him. It was never enough, never the right explanation given to what had happened. He thought it best that their parents hear it from him, the one they had placed so much trust in to look after his siblings. His failure needed to come from him and no one else, his otherwise pristine penmanship blotched and in places eligible from the tremor in his hand every time he tried to write the words ‘Ginny is gone.’  She was gone and it was all his fault.  It swelled under his ribs, expanded out in a rush he had forced back since the moment he saw the wall, capped it back under control during their meeting with McGonagall and again when he explained to his brothers he would be in his room to write to their parents. He had hoped it would remain contained until he at least sent the letter but each attempt brought him closer to the edge, broke him apart slowly as finally, he set the quill down in defeat.   Mother and father, I don’t know how exactly best to tell you this. I know it will come as a deep shock to you as it has the rest of us, but I felt it was best that I write to you over McGonagall, because you entrusted me to look after the others, especially Ginny. It’s my duty to tell you. As you know, students at school have been attacked petrified by something and while Ginny hasn’t been petrified . . . something much more grave has occurred. I don’t know how to say it other than just saying it. Ginny’s go- Whatever was attacking students took Ginny and I can't find her. I looked all over for her when I found out and I don’t know what to do anymore McGonagall is sending everyone home tomorrow.  I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen. I know the words mean nothing, I know I can never undo what has happened, nor can I express how terribly sorry I am for failing not just you but Ginny as well. I’m sorry mum and dad. I tried to find her, I really did, please believe that. . I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me.  HC 1: Percy's letter was never actually sent. Arthur and Molly were alerted when Ron, Harry, Ginny and Lockhart emerged from the chamber. Percy's deepest fear at the time was being seen as a family disappointment and disowned and already feeling like he didn't belong and wasn't liked, he believed this gave them a reason too (he had after all heard of people being disowned for lesser things). He was close to sending the letter but was stopped when Fred and George alerted him that Ron and Harry were missing as well and the three went in search of them.   HC 2: This time period is when Percy loses all faith and trust in Dumbledore, not only blaming himself for what happened but mainly Dumbledore for not taking the threat seriously, especially when previously a student had been killed. The events that followed in PoA and GoF only deepened his distrust of Dumbledore which was a prime reason he couldn't side with his family when the time came to pick between the Ministry and the Order. Percy personally believed that Dumbledore saw them as pawns and nothing more.  Writers note: This isn't my best work and I know it, but I wanted to stick with my deadline. I did plan to expand on this a lot more, mainly in exploring Percy's friendship with Oliver Wood as well as Percy's reaction when he finds out they sent Lockhart to 'find Ginny', but a migraine has been kicking my ass the last few days. ​​​​​​ 1 Comments

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