House of corpses

by Irisen

Summary:

Percy goes back in time.
He doesn't do it to save the world, doesn't do it because he is a Gryffindor, doesn't do it to help the Order of the Phoenix defeat Voldemort.
He does it because Ginny died and his shirt is still drenched in her blood.
He does it because he's selfish, because he's the last one standing in a world destroyed by years of war.
He does it and he succeeds.

His family, however, doesn't understand why his behaviour has changed so much.

Percy goes back in time.

He doesn't do it to save the world, doesn't do it because he is a Gryffindor, doesn't do it to help the Order of the Phoenix defeat Voldemort.

He does it because Ginny died and his shirt is still drenched in her blood.

He does it because, two days ago, George has told them all goodbye, an empty smile on his face and no one has seen him since he has left their hideout, his steps slow and deliberate.

He does it because Ron lost his arm and his mother lost her mind. He does it because somewhere, deep in Ireland, in one of the last remaining bastion of wizarding freedom, Oliver Wood will never be able to climb on a broom ever again, his hands shaking too badly for him to grip it.

He does it because Bill might be dead or alive and they will never know, never be able to find him again, at least not before it's too late, not before his imprisonnement in the Dark Lord's castle has robbed him of any shred of sanity he has left after his wife and child died two years prior. He does it because of Fred too, the first one of their family to die, the first grave in their now abandonned garden, shortly followed by Charlie, killed fighting to protect one of the dragons he had worked so hard to raise and train.

He does it for selfish reasons, and because he is the only one sane and healthy enough to do it. He works on it tirelessly for months as the world around him goes up in flames. He stops only briefly, sometimes to run, sometimes to fight. He ignores the carnage around him, the destruction, lets it wash over his mind like a bad memory, like a nightmare that would disappear if only he didn't aknowledge it.

At some point, he's joined in his research by Luna Lovegood, Ginny's former best friend. The girl, the woman really, can't walk anymore, hasn't been able to ever since Bellatrix Lestrange crushed her legs with a particularly vicious Reducto. The mangled mess left behind was too damaged for anyone to ever heal it but, despite her injuries, the former Ravenclaw is more useful to him than he could ever have hoped for. She's clever, tenacious and just the right kind of insane for the task at hand. Ideas flow out of her mind like rushing water, never stopping, never slowing down. Most of them are mad, impossible but, after all, their mission in itself is mad and impossible.

They work.

They work and it's Ron's turn to die. A Bombarda in the chest, someone tells Percy. The corpse is so disfigured that the casket is never opened once during the ceremony.

In some ways, his brother is lucky to be properly burried, even if it's in a nameless grave. The death toll is so high that, by now, most people are just burned or even forgotten on the battlefield. But Ron is Harry Potter's best friend. Was Harry Potter's best friend. His right hand man, the lead strategist of the resistance and, for that, he deserves a proper funeral.

His father drags him out of his lab to go to the ceremony and the number of people he recognizes when they get there is so small that it makes him want to puke. There's Molly, obviously under quite a lot of Calming Draughts, Hermione, her face a mask of grief and hate, and, finally, Harry Potter himself. There's a new scar on his face and his eyes burn with something dark, something dangerous and mad. When their gazes cross, Percy has to turn away. The Man-who-Lived looks just as cruel as his sworn enemy in this instant, just as likely to snap and murder them all.

Luna takes his hand and, as Harry and his father lower Ron's casket into the ground, Percy realises that, if Bill is indeed dead, he's the last, the last of the Weasley children.

It's a strange thing to realise, he ponders. There used to be so many of them that finding clothing and food for every one of his brothers and sister had been a nightmare for his parents but now, now ...

Now there is only him.

Before the burial is even over, he leaves the cemetary and goes back to his research, his determination renewed.

 

Percy goes back in time and he doesn't do it to be a hero. He does it because his family is destroyed and, even if their history is complicated and painful, he can't live without them, can't live knowing that Ginny died in a nameless street, her organs spilling on the sidewalk, can't live knowing that Bill is nothing but a nameless corpse in a prison cell.

Maybe he's selfish, maybe he's mad -scratch that, he's definitely more than a little bit insane at this point- but he has set himself a goal and he will reach it.

And reach it, he does.

 

As he stands there, in front of the rift they have created, his feet bare, planted in the golden sand of a hundred time turners and his hands caked in the blood of the Death Eaters who tried to kill him in the last stage of the ritual, Percy feels, for the first time in a few years, something akin to hope. If this works, he'll have a chance to save the ones he loves. If it doesn't, then everything will be over, for good.

This shouldn't feel as reassuring as it does but, for some reason, the idea of dying doesn't really scare him much anymore.

He glances at Luna, takes in the paleness of her face and the way her eyes can't seem to focus on anything. The Death Eaters got to her before he managed to kill them and, soon, she will die too. It's not a problem, not really since, in the end, nothing that happened since the beginning of the war will be nothing but a bad memory in only a few minutes, but he still feels a bit sad at that.

She notices his eyes on her and, slowly, smiles at him, a weak, trembling little thing that still manages to lighten up her face so much that the red on her cheeks looks almost like a flush and not like the traces of blood it really is.

"Thank you." Percy tells her honestly, his good hand trembling slightly. "I wouldn't have done it without you."

"I know," she laughs.

And that's it.

Percy doesn't stay in the room long enough to see her pass away. Instead, he walks towards the rift, not stopping until he's almost touching it, the sheer amount of magic escaping through it making all the hair on his body stand. It feels powerful, it feels electric, it feels ...

Like a second chance.

His last chance.

He takes another step and, suddenly, he's not in his time anymore.

 

oOo

 

His family thinks he's sick.

He's rushed to St Mungo's despite the fact that the cost of hospitalisation is, without a doubt, well above their means. He's looked over by a variety of healers and passed from service to service until, in the end, he's given some form of magical therapy and a bunch of potions and sent home.

He has honestly no idea of what his parents were told of his "condition" but it's probably something pretty concerning because, for a very, very long time they never let him get out of their sight and speak to him in a strangely soft and gentle voice, as if being to harsh would break him somehow. After some time, Bill and Charlie adopt this behaviour, thankfully not followed by the rest of the family, the twins being as annoying as ever and Ron ... being Ron.

It takes him two weeks to sort his mind out enough to be able to take in his situation. Two weeks of dazedly going through the days, two weeks of staring at the faces of his brothers, of his sister, half expecting them to crumble into ash or be covered in blood the next time he glances at them. Two weeks of awkward silence and unanswered questions. Two weeks before he can process where he is, what he has done, what it meant.

He finally comes to a Saturday afternoon. His father has taken him and the twins out to fish at a nearby river and, so far, he's been doing really poorly, not nearly as invested in the task as he should be, his mind unable to concentrate, unable to grasp what he is doing here, fishing, when everyone he's sitting next to is already dead, unable to find out what is happening, and why.

It doesn't make any sense to him.

Until it does.

It's like a flash, a sudden flame of realisation and sanity lighting up in his head, blazing through the cloud of irrationality and madness in a matter of seconds. The minute before it, he was sitting motionlessly, a broken scientist in a foreign world, and, the minute after, he's Percy Weasly, nine years old and accompagnying his family on a fun afternoon out.

He remembers.

He remembers everything.

And he can process it.

It's not like before, when the memories were so painful even thinking about them distantly burned him. Now, he can compare his former life and his new (or is it old?) one. He can see the sun shining and the grass under his hands and think that it is truly a beautiful day instead of wanting to scream from how wrong this all is. Because it's not wrong. Because he succeeded. He did it.

He's in the past.

He looks at Fred, alive and laughing, his feet splashing in the water, sending droplets all around him, especially on the face of his twin, who looks as annoyed as he's secretly delighted at the utter chaos of the situation. They're eight and so painfully young that Percy's heart twist in his chest. They're seven and, most importantly, they're not dead.

He thinks of Fred body's, laid down in Hogwarts, the first battle of the war and the most devastating, thinks of George's empty eyes as he left their hideout, thinks of death and life, of childhood and of the future they still had before them.

After some time, maybe a minute, maybe a second, the twins realise he's staring at them. George frowns at him and Fred sticks out his tongue but they do nothing more. That, in itself, is a change. Even as eight years olds on a fishing trip, the twins would never have hesitated to drench him in water as a punition for staring at them before. Now, they do nothing of the sort, probably because they have been told by either his mother or father to go lightly on him, he's still freshly out of the hospital, after all.

"Hey!" Fred yells, grabbing a handful of grass and throwing it at him, "Stop staring!"

Percy doesn't defend himself, lets the grass hit his face and land in his hair. Something inside of him, something dark and wild, wants to retaliate, wants to protect itself from the assault and get rid of the assaillant. For one mad second, he itches for his wand, a spell, destructive and dangerous, at the tip of his tongue.

But then, his father scolds Fred and turns to him, his eyes full of concern, face open and devoid of any scars and traces of starvation. He looks good, he looks like a man who has lived in peace for a few years now, who has gotten used to it.

"Are you okay, Percy?"

His voice is soft, the one usually used on agents freshly recovered from a cell or a torture chamber, something Percy most definitely isn't.

But he answers, because he is Percy Weasley, and he is nine years old, even if, in his head, he's much, much older.

"I'm fine." He says. "Sorry for staring," he adds, looking past his father's bewildered gaze to Fred, whose frowns grow even deeper.

A bit worryingly, his answer causes everyone else to fall into an uneasy silence, one George breaks after a good minute by noting, in a slightly worried tone :

"Hey Perce, you don't look crazy anymore."

Their father starts telling the boy to be more polite to his older brother but Percy doesn't really care. Distantly, he thinks that George might be right, he might look sane now, might even feel like it, but he knows that, deep inside of him, the madness is still here, waiting to get out, waiting to explode and take everyone out with him.

"I feel better." He admits once his father has calmed down.

"Really?" his father asks, his eyes so full of hope and relief that it dazes him for a moment.

There is a hand on his shoulder and a smile on the older man's face, the sun is high in the sky and the air is warm, one of their canes is shaking, a fish probably trapped there, under the water, and Fred and George look somewhere between relieved and mischevious. This is a normal day, a happy day.

The first day of his new life.

After a few more questions from his father about how he's feeling and quite a lot weird glances from his younger brothers, they retrieve the one and only fish they managed to catch and pack up their equipment to go back to the Burrow. Judging by the sun's position, it's not even four in the afternoon but, apparently, Percy breaking out of his silence is reason enough for them to hurry up home. His father doesn't let go of his hand for the entire trip back, as if them losing contact means him falling back down the well of insanity he had been trapped in for the past two weeks. Percy doesn't mind, not really. He is a bit uncomfortable at the idea of touching someone after years of living alone and running from everything and everyone, Luna excepted, but he can go past that and try to enjoy this moment with his father, his very much alive and happy father.

This is nice, he realises as they step inside their house, followed closely by Fred and George. This is really, really nice.

 

His father sits him down in the living room, on one of their most recent couches (they have a lot of them, inherited from various relatives who died during the previous war) and goes to the back garden to fetch his mother. While he's gone, Fred and George sit down in front of him, looking at him up and down with a strange expression on their face.

Seeing them together again is beautiful and tragic and Percy has to fight to control his expression and not break down in tears at the sight.

"Sooo ..." Fred starts.

"... you're better." George continues, playing with one of the smooth rocks they found near the river.

This sounds like a statement but it's really a question so, without hesitation, Percy nods.

"Yes."

"But are you really?" George insists.

"'Cause after the hospital, they told us you were better too." His twin explains, shrugging.

His time at the hospital is a blurred mess of memories, shattered and distorted. He remembers yelling and spells and diagnosis after diagnosis and ... and his magic burning, twisting, changing.

His magic is fine now, nowhere as powerful and grown up as it had been back in his warring day, especially with all the rituals he and Luna had undergone to make sure at least one of them would be able to survive the trip in the rift, but it's there, and it's his.

"I'm better." Percy tells them. Then, after a moment of reflexion, he adds : "I think."

This seems to be all it takes to reassure the twins because, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, they nod, as if they had known his answer all along, and jump off the couch they were sitting on. They glance at him one last time before running out of the room, no doubt to go cause mischief somewhere else, or maybe even to plan a prank on him, since he has told them himself that he is feeling better and is therefore, once again a good target.

He's not left alone for very long, however. Barely two minutes after the twins run out of the living room, they are replaced by a very familiar face. His hair at half length, nowhere near where it would fall in the future, and his face stuck in the strange place between childhood and adulthood, Charlie looks down at him from the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house. The older boy frowns at him, taking in his changed attitude and the way he looks back at him without any hesitation, then he jumps over the rest of the steps.

Percy watches his older brother sit down, next to him this time. Charlie doesn't say anything, doesn't have the time to as their parents enter the room themselves, followed by Bill, who has apparently been roped into their conversation. The three oldest Weasley all take place on the various seats around them. Behind them, at the top of the stairs, Ron's head peaks out, curiosity shining in his eyes. No one but Percy, who has been in a state in constant alert for so long he doesn't know how to calm down anymore, notices him and he soon sits himself on one of the steps, looking down at them with interest.

"Oh Percy..." His mother says, her voice hitching, as if she was holding back a sob.

She doesn't touch him, though, doesn't try to hug him and, for that, he is thankful. He can handle hand holding, can handle Charlie's leg touching his own, but he's still too raw, the memory of battle and death still too fresh for him to react well to something so intrusive as a hug, especially now that he's stuck in the body of a nine years old.

"Mum." He answers, feeling very uneasy at the entire situation. He has never been really good at large displays of affection.

The simple fact that he opened his mouth to answer her brings tears to her eyes and, even Ron, from where he is sitting, looks a bit taken aback.

"Son," his father pipes in, his hand holding his mother's tightly. "How are you feeling?"

He has already asked this before but, from the way his mother's eyes shine and Charlie's hand reach for his own, his family need to hear him say it again. Unwilling to cause them more distress than he already has, he says :

"I'm fine. I feel good."

"But how?" Bill suddenly says. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I ..."

Percy hesitates, looks around the room. At Bill, free and unharmed, at Charlie, not a mangled corpse, at Ron, barely older than a toddler and yet already clever and bright, at Fred and George, who think they're being sneaky by listening in through the open window, at his parents, sane and whole. The truth of the matter is, he has no answer. It took him time to process where he is, what has happened and, now, he knows. But he can't explain that to them, can't tell them who he really is, when he's really from.

"I don't know," he says eventually," I was sick and now I'm better."

"Just like that?" Bill asks, looking a bit distressed.

Percy nods.

They talk for a long time after that. He answers a lot of questions and asks a few, gets told he has to go see a Mind Healer, has been seeing one for a few weeks actually, not that he remembers it. His mother hugs him at some point, which makes him freeze and everyone else flinch. In the end, they leave him alone in his childhood bedroom, his head swirling with new informations and his chest hurting, full of feelings he's not sure he knows how to deal with just yet.

He allows himself to cry for a full half-hour after that and, when Charlie comes fetch him for dinner, he doesn't have the heart to say anything to him. He feels exhausted.

 

oOo

 

As it turns out, being a child is boring.

Percy has spent the last six years of his life on the run from dark wizards and more than half of this time drowning in magical theory and half forgotten rituals and spells. His life had been busy with either work or war for so long that he had all but erased from his mind what it feels like to have nothing important to do. There was always a Death Eater to kill or an incantation to hunt down back in his research years. And, when he was at Hogwarts and in the small period of time between that and the actual start of the war, he had drowned himself in work, either for his studies or for the Minister. In all honesty, he has always been a bit of a workaholic, nowhere as inherently bright than Fred, George or even Ron, who had proven his natural ability for strategy and tactics more than once during the war, but with a work ethic tight enough that he has always managed to be at the top of his school year in every class he ever took.

This, unfortunately for him, means that he is wholly unprepared for the sadly uneventful part of life that is childhood. Past the first few days spent reacllimating himself to life in a time of peace and the presence of his family around him, he ends up with a lot of free time.

Like most wizards, the Weasleys are homeschooled as children, their mother having gotten a teacher diploma from the Ministry a few years back, one that allows her to teach basic mathematics, history and litterature skills. It's safer than sending young magic children to school with Muggles who can easily figure out that something is wrong with them. And, like most wizards, the Weasley don't have a curriculum as complex as the Muggles do in science and maths.

For Percy, this is all terribly unfortunate, as he is very much above the average nine years old when it comes to academics. He's a very tolerant person, having to work for Minister Fudge usually did that for someone, and has the patience of an angel, or so he likes to think, but even he struggles not to outright tell his mother that he does not need more classes on basic mathematics or general history of magic. He knows all of this and more by heart, has known it for years.

But he doesn't, mainly because he would have no explanation for it and is on ice thin enough that he can be sent back to St Mungo's at the first signs of a relapse. So, he breezes through the schoolwork just fast enough for his mother to give him more difficult tasks but not enough for her to start noticing something is wrong.

On the bright side, it does give him a lot of time to reflect on what he's going to do now that he's back. He spends entire nights devising plans to save every single member of his family, schemes to destroy the dark lord and his followers, to take over the world and never let anyone hurt his siblings ever again. His child's body protests at the relentless rythm he forces himself to follow, not used to getting so little sleep, but he ignores it in favour of trying to write down everything that happened in the six years the war had lasted, in code of course. He tries to analyze everything, find out where it all went wrong and what he can do to make it better.

It lasts for a grand total of five days before his father confronts him about his unhealthy sleeping habits. Later that same day, his mother, while cleaning his room, finds the three notebooks he has already written about the war and, seeing the complex code he has used on them (it was one Luna had taught him in the last two years of the war), promptly comes to the conclusion that he has had a relapse.

He's brought to St Mungo's once more and has to explain to an old Mind Healer what the notebooks are for. She doesn't believe him when he tells her they are dream diaries, mostly because he refuses to give her the key to the code, and also probably because of how much informations are written in them. In the end, she tells his parents that, while he might have made a lot of progress, his mind is still not completely there and his condition gets worse at night, when he's alone in his room. She recommends he shares it with someone, preferably one of his siblings, and smiles at him indulgently when he makes a face at this proposition.

His notebooks are given back to him on the condition that he does no write for longer than one hour every day, and only does it when he's supervised.

"I'm sorry Perce," his father tells him on the way home, "but it's for your own good."

No, he wants to say, what I do is for your own good. He doesnt, though. Because they wouldn't understand. Because he might be a little mad, but he's not stupid.

 

When they get home, he's made to sit in the living room again, his notebooks next to him, while his parents talk to the rest of the family to explain the situation. The sky is darkening outside and for a moment he wants nothing more than to run out of the house and away from the Wizarding world. For a moment, he wishes he could have died in the rift.

Then, he jumps to his feet, runs to the nearest bathroom and vomits everything he has had to eat this day.

When he's done, he washes his face at the sink. By accident, his gaze catches his own reflection and he's so disgusted by the fear in his eyes, the paleness of his skin and the obvious way that he's completely out of control that he feels the madness in him start to rise up again. How is he supposed to save anyone if he can't even get through a week without endangering his own health? How is he supposed to get rid of the Dark Lord if his mind is a shattered mess?

"Get a grip Weasley." He hisses. "Merlin, you're twenty-eight. Control yourself."

He pictures Luna, smiling at him through the pain, the blood and her own death and the shaking of his hands lessens a bit. He's not alone in this, they did this together, they made this happen. He can't ruin it now, can't let his memories get the better of him, he has to be the best he can be.

He flushes the toilet and looks at his reflection once again. His eyes are sunken, dark, almost black marks under them, his face is drawn, obviously exhausted and it feels like finding himself again. He remembers his determination, remembers the mission he gave himself.

"Alright Weasley," he says to the boy in the mirror, "calm down. You can do this."

He washes his face again, because the feeling of cold water on his skin feels a bit like salvation, and he gets out of the room and back to the couch, where his notebooks still lay, untouched. He barely has enough time to sit himself down before his entire family floods back into the room with him. Even Ginny, who's only four years old, is with him, held tightly in their father's arms.

Percy doesn't know how much his parents have told his siblings but it must be at least a bit bad because they all look very concerned. It's something he'll have to be more careful about in the future, he doesn't need them to be worried about him, it'll only hinder him in the end if he needs to act on his own.

For now, however, this is the logical result of his own actions and his stupidity so there's not much he can do except live with it.

"You lied to me." George says before anyone else can speak, even less sit, "You said you were better."

"Yeah," Fred adds, "you lied to me too, I was there too."

"Boys." His father cuts in, perhaps a bit harshly.

The twins bite their bottom lips at the same time but don't say anything more. In relative silence, all the Weasleys sit themselves around the tea table. Another serious discussion is obviously going to happen and Percy can only hope that he's not going to be sent back to St Mungo's for more therapy, that would be a terrible waste of time.

"We explained to your siblings what's happening to you," his mother beings, "and, for your good, we decided... We decided that it would be better if you shared a room with one of them, at least for now."

It's like a cold shower and, for a brief moment, his newly found determination wavers. Sure, the Mind Healer did recommend this for him but he didn't expect his parents to take the suggestion seriously. Both his older brother will be going back to Hogwarts soon and he can't see who, amongst his younger siblings, can share with him. To have to sleep in the same room than someone will hinder him, give him less time to plan, and he only has one year before he has to go back to Hogwarts.

One year.

He opens his mouth to protest but Fred beats him to it.

"George and I said you can come with us."

"With me too!" Ron yells, raising his hand.

Percy closes his mouth, tilts his head on the side.

"But I don't want to-..." he starts.

"Listen, Percy, this will only be for a while," his father says.

"Until you're feeling better, at least." His mother adds.

"Until you're not lying about feeling better!" George accuses him, fire in his eyes. Next to him, Fred nods energically.

Everyone is looking at him and it makes his skin scrawl. He's not used to this much attention, especially not from his family, at least not from his siblings. Back in his first life, his mother had been very supportive of him and of his grades, his brothers a bit less so. He had always been seen as a boring know it all and ruiner of fun, when he was just trying to be serious and get the job he had always wanted to have, one that required a lot of work and a very, very good behaviour.

"So," his father continues, when it becomes obvious that he's not going to say anything, "we are not going to force you into a room with someone but you do have to choose one of your siblings. They all said that they are ready to share with you, right Weasleys?"

Everyone nods, even Ginny, who probably has no idea of what is happening around her.

Slowly, it dawns on him that they're expecting him to choose himself who he wants to spend the rest of the summer with. His throat tightens as he looks from left to right, at his siblings, all of them alive but, at the same time, all of them dead.

Fred and George look, by far, the most determined to help him out. This is more than a bit surprising considering that their relationship had always been strained in their previous life ; even after Fred's death, George's and his relationship had been nothing short of awkward, even if their shared grief brought them closer in the end. This time around, their worry for him seems to be stronger than their distate for his philosophy of life. He considers it, they're not much younger than him and their mischeviousness is usually enough to distract him, if only for a few minutes, but, when he looks at Fred, the only thing he manages to see in this specific moment is the dead body of an older version of him, covered in dust, blood and various bits of flesh from the other nearby bodies. When he looks at George, he can't help but remember empty eyes and the knowledge that somewhere, somehow, another one of his brother had died, and probably from his own hand.

The pictures don't fade from his mind as he looks at Charlie, who is sitting next to them. His hair is bright red, like most of them, and he remembers how strange it had been to see it stained with blood, who had not been the exact same color but close enough to make it confusing and a bit funny. He had had trouble reigning in hysteric laughs at his older brother's funerals. Not a good memory.

Ron. Ron who lost all form of mercy and would send children to die on the battlefield, in the very end. Ron who lost his arm and still fought like a demon. Ron who could make a wall of fire rise from the ground with only a flick of his hand. Ron the right hand man of the Man-who-Lived. Ron who died. Ron who only had one of his siblings when he was buried because all of the others were dead.

And Ginny.

Ginny, gutted on the side of a street, dying like a dog, her blood spilling on cold stone and on Percy's fingers. Harry crying next to him, her smile, her eyes glazing over, her skin cooling down, breath stopping...

Her blood on his shirt.

Her tears sliding down her cheeks.

Merlin.

He can't.

He can't do this.

But he has to.

He has to.

He promised himself, he promised Luna. He promised, Ron, and Ginny, and Bill, and George, and Charlie and Fred. He promised his mother and father. And even Harry the tyrant, and Hermione, the mother of his only remaining niece.

 

Bill.

Bill who was taken by the Death Eaters, thrown in a cell, tortured. Probably dead.

Bill, who was the only one he has not seen the corpse of.

Bill.

His last memory of him is bittersweet, a smile stolen on the battlefield, a wink as he whirled around to cast a powerful Protego. They had not seen each other after this brief encounter. He was captured three weeks after that.

Bill, the oldest of the Weasley children and, maybe, the only one left in their doomed future after he, himself, walked through the rift.

Have I left you behind ? He often wonders, at night. Are you still alive, still a prisonner?

Maybe he's selfish (he is selfish) but he hopes that his older brother is dead, that he did not have to suffer too much, that he died from his injuries in his cell and not being tortured by crazy Death Eaters.

"Percy?" his father says, voice soft. Everyone is still looking at him.

"Bill," he blurts out.

Fred and George groan at that, already starting to protest, asking him to come with them instead because "Bill is boring and he's going to become a prefect, Percy" and Bill himself look a bit surprised that his little brother chose him. They have never been very close, a six years age difference is a bit much to learn to know each other : by the time Percy was five, Bill was already off to Hogwarts but...

But he was the last Weasley alive.

Maybe.

He's the only one he hasn't seen the corpse of. Even George...

"Alright." Bill says, talking over the twins. "I'll help you move your stuff."

He stands up and helps Percy to his feet, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs, leaving the rest of the family to stare at their back as they leave. Their father eventually follows them, probably to help them move Percy's bed, since Bill is not old enough to levitate it himself. In only a few minutes, the operation is complete and all of his stuff is set up in his oldest brother's room. Even though it's been time for dinner for at least an hour now, they're not called down just yet. Instead, the rest of the family leave the two of them alone.

A bit unsure as of how to act, Percy sits on his bed, placed next to the window, perpendicular to Bill's own, which has been crammed between the older boy's desk and one of the corner of the rooms. None of the Burrow's bedrooms are very big and Percy feels very much like he's intruding by forcing his brother to share with him but, really, he doesn't feel like he had much of a choice.

"Percy."

He starts, raises his head.

"It's fine, you know I share my room with four other boys at Hogwarts, right?"

Percy does know, and he remembers enjoying his alone time at the Burrow, after a year of having to deal with other people in his space. But then, Bill has always been a lot more socially active than him, maybe he doesn't mind being with others as much as he did back then...

There's a bit of an awkward silence as Percy doesn't know how to respond to his brother's reassurance. After some time, Bill speaks again :

"I have uh... a lot of books. If you... want to look at them?"

This is an excellent distraction and Percy takes it gladly. He nods enthusiastically and walks to Bill's bookcase, which is filled with second-hand books on curse-breaking, Ancient Runes and various historical documents. There's also a few Hogwarts textbooks, the ones Charlie hasn't needed for his classes yet, including third and four year Arithmancy manuals and all other books from the fourth and fifth year list. It brings him back a lot, seeing them here.

"Hey why don't you try this?" Bill says from behind his shoulder.

Percy flinches badly, not having noticed his brother moving, but Bill ignores it, instead picking up his third year Arithmancy book. It looks still relatively new, at least from a Weasley's perspective. Percy, who has gotten an O on his Arithmancy NEWT, still accepts the book.

"Mum's always going on about you being a maths prodigy so I think you'll like it."

He nods silently and, slowly, sits down next to the bookcase, putting the book on the floor in front of him and opening it. Visibly satisfied that he has managed to find him something to do, Bill ruffles his hair (which causes him to flinch again) and grabs his homework from his desk before lying down on his bed with it.

Skimming over the introductory chapter, Percy starts to feel like this might be a good idea. He may be something of an expert on the use of Arithmancy in magic but it's always good to review the basics once in a while. He's gotten to the fourth chapter, one he remembers third year students usually get to around the end of October, when things start to go south.

The chapter is about a theorical formula used to represent the connection between wild magic and time and how to calculate the effects one has on the other. It's an extremely complex part of the book and usually used to scare away the students who are not commited to the study of Arithmancy but, to Percy, it's actually quite simple.

Because this is one of the theorems he had used with Luna when they were working on creating the rift.

It feels like a punch to the guts, seeing it again and, for a long, excruating moment, he can do nothing but stare at the page in front of him, at the formula, floating before his eyes, burned in letters of fire in his brain.

He shakes his head, feeling vaguely nauseous. His mind is a complete mess and he absolutely has to sort it out before he really gets to work on saving his family, he's completely useless in this state.

A large part of him wants to put the book back on the shelf and forget all about it but he knows that it's not going to help. He can't run away from this, from his past, because, theorically, his past never happened and, if he plays his cards right, never will. He has to get his feelings under control, has to learn how to live again so that he can successfully plan what he's going to do.

He won't run away from this.

Percy rises to his feet and grabs a pencil from his brother's desk. He sits back down against the bookcase and puts the Arithmancy manual on his knees. If he remembers correctly, Bill and him are the only one in the Weasley family to ever take Arithmancy, which means that he'll be the only one to have use of the book he has in front of him.

Good.

Next to the formula, in the blank space between the text and the edge of the page, Percy scribbles down everything Luna and him have learned about it by studying it and then a bit more, including some theories. By the time he's done, nearly an entire hour has passed and they are being called down for dinner.

He sets the book down on his bed, along with the pencil and follows Bill down.

 

Dinner is an awkward affair, everyone keeps glancing at him when they think he isn't looking and every single sentence and laugh from his siblings' and parents' mouths sounds fake. Fred and George are still a bit offended that he refused their offer to stay with them and they make him feel it by throwing bits of bread at his head whenever their parents are not paying attention which is, admittedly, not very often. They are obviously trying to get a reaction out of him but, considering that his first reflex is to whip out his wand and Bombarda their heads away, he prefers not to react at all, which makes them even more relentless.

In the end, Bill catches them in the act and he glares at them with such a ferocity that the twins turn their attention to him. With a bit of despair, Percy realises that he might have started a new rivalry inside the Weasley family.

 

After dinner, he's taken with his mother and father along with the youngest Weasley children to get ready for bed and then gets escorted to Bill's room. When he goes inside, he finds the Arithmancy book back on the bookshelf and every single one of his own books carefully placed away from his bed.

"Goodnight Perce!" Bill tells him as soon as he enters.

Right.

He's supposed to be sleeping.

This is going to be more than a bit annoying.

Still, he lays down in his bed and does his best to ignore the fact that Bill usually goes to bed much later than this.

He's twenty-eight, for Merlin's sake !

 

The thing is, his body is tired but his mind, his mind is restless. When he closes his eyes, he keeps thinking about how he's supposed to save his family from their death, and then he starts thinking about how they died. After that, he usually gives up and gets up to do something else.

Except, this time, he can't so, instead of opening his eyes and fetching his notebook when he starts remembering about Ginny's blood on his hands, he stays in bed, doing his best to ignore it.

 

Magic, when used correctly and powerfully, could be really terrifying. Even a simple Accio could be terrifying if enough power was put behind it.

See, usually when you tried to Accio someone, or part of someone, your magic would clash with their own magic and you would have to overpower them in order to use your spell correctly. This was why the spell, as useful as it was, was rarely used in a duel. This was also why, if used against Muggles or weak wizards, it could be absolutely devastating.

And Ginny, Ginny was anything but weak.

But Ginny was tired.

They had been running for a good three hours now, in the middle of the ruins of Edinburgh, flinging spells at Death Eaters and, sometimes, Muggles soldiers who had survived the initial destruction of the city. They had gone here to meet with Lee, who had important information he had retrieved from a werewolves' camp. Percy was not even supposed to be here at first but, considering that Ron had recently been badly injured in one of the raids he had led in person, he had had to drag himself away from his lab and into the streets with his sister.

After all, he couldn't let her go alone, right?

Ginny was tired and so was he. As it was, he wasn't the best duelist in the resistance, not by far. He was much more of a theorician, excellent at research but nothing more than average at actual fighting.

Ginny, however. Ginny was magnificient.

She was by far their best fighter, incredibly powerful, fast and inventive. People who knew her could say with confidence that she was stronger than Harry Potter himself so, really, Percy had no necessity to be here with her except for the fact that she was his sister and that, if she was to die here, he wanted to be there for her.

So he had gone with her.

They had gone to the point of rendez-vous and, unsurprisingly, perhaps, it had all been a trap.

He himself had gotten some burns from a vicious Incendio and a few broken ribs when he got it by a stray Cofringo but nothing worse. Ginny herself was untouched, talented as ever. They fled the trap and ran into the streets of Edinburgh, where they stood when the first bomb exploded.

The only reason they hadn't died then was Ginny's Protego, strong and powerful, instinctively cast around them at the beginning of the deflagration.

And, after that, they began running.

There were corpses everywhere, mangled, burning, disfigured mess of human beings, bones peeking out of bloody stumps of flesh and, in a few days, everything would surely be rotting as there were so many of them that it would surely be impossible to clear the streets before illness started spreading from them.

They ran and cast spells after spells, Percy beheading a werewolf and Ginny impalling three more on a metal spike she conjured easily.

At first, he thought they would make it out alright.

But then, the Death Eaters came.

Not any Death Eaters, too, the First Circle. Or at least most of it.

"Damn, they really want me dead." Ginny had laughed.

Then she had flung an Incarcerous at the nearest Dark wizard and the fight had started.

She did not die there.

In fact, they managed to beat them.

They managed to beat them but...

But a Light wizard doesn't use death spells.

A Light wizard uses Incarcerous and Incendio and Cofringo. Sometimes Reducto and Bombarda. A Light wizard used spells that could be deadly but never spells that were made to be deadly.

That was their mistake.

 

Exhausted and panting, Ginny made Bellatrix Lestrange's ribcage explode and Dolohov's legs dissolve in hastily conjured acid. Meanwhile, Percy was trying to get up after a nasty round of the Cruciatus curse, by the time he got to his feet, every single Death Eater was on the ground, half dead.

And Ginny ...

Ginny was standing, but she looked about as dead as some of them.

Blood gushed from several injuries on her torso and arms, one of her legs was clearly broken and there was a bit of bone peeking out from under her sleeve, around her wrist. Half of her face had been badly burned, so much so that she couldn't even open her right eye and she was shaking from exhaustion.

Percy himself was not doing much better but he was well enough to know they had to get out of there fast.

He ran to her, grabbed her hand and-...

"Accio Ginny Weasley's heart."

 

Accio is a terrifying spell.

It doesn't work on wizards usually, their natural magic block it.

But, if they were exhausted ...

If they were weak ...

Well, not even a Protego could stop the spell.

The only thing Percy could do as his sister's back arched and as Dolohov, whose legs had been destroyed but whose magic was still flowing through him, dark and powerful, laughed, was scream, a scream soon joined by another voice.

There was a green flash and Dolohov fell on the ground, dead.

Too late.

Too late.

Ginny's skin had already ripped open, blood pouring out of her, organs spilling on the street as she fell to her knee then face first on the ground.

Harry Potter, leader of the Light and murderer of Antonin Dolohov fell with her, grabbing her shoulders, using every kind of healing spells on her prone body.

Too late.

Percy had fallen too, at some point and, even as Light wizards flooded the streets, executing the remaining Death Eaters, he couldn't find it in himself to stand up and go help them.

Ginny was dead.

Ginny.

Dead.

Blood on the ground, on his hands, on his shirt, everywhere.

Organs on the street, a light in her eyes, gone too soon.

Harry screaming, crying.

Screaming.

He was screaming too.

He was...

 

"Percy!"

Someone is shaking him, gripping his shoulders franctically. Someone's there, someone ...

Bill?

But isn't he in...

Oh.

Right.

He's alive.

They're alive.

Ginny is alive.

 

His cheeks are wet, he notices absently, eyes fixed on his hands, devoid of any traces of blood. He's been crying in his sleep. This is new. Even before, when he was in the dark, lost in madness, dazed, he didn't have nightmares like this, were he remembered.

This is new and he doesn't like it.

"Percy, Percy can you hear me?" Bill is asking, panicked.

It's dark outside, the middle of the night perhaps. Ginny died in the day. Ginny is still alive. Ginny will not die. He won't permit it.

Never.

Get a fucking grip Weasley.

He imagines Luna watching over him, reminds himself of her smile, of the feeling of her hand in his.

Slowly, he calms down.

Bill is still talking to him, in other parts of the house, doors are being opened, the noise they are making has woken up other members of the family.

"I'm fine," he says. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Bill automatically replies. "Are you alright? How are you feeling?"

"I'm ... I'm fine."

He's not, not really.

But he will have to be eventually.

He has a lot to do. He can't afford to waste his time like this.

 

oOo

 

Things do not get better, but life goes on.

He learns how to deal with lack of sleep as a nine years old, just like he learned how to deal with it as a fifteen years old, studying for his OWLS and too stressed to allow himself to sleep for more than four hours a night. He stays in Bill's room, too, his older brother refusing categorically to have him return to his own bedroom, even if he wakes him up nearly every night. This is nice, in a way. But it's also a bit annoying because it means that Percy never has any time where he's truly, fully alone.

And Merlin, does he need it.

It's not even that he doesn't like it, being around his family, because he does, but he would like to have some time to collect his thoughts and lay them down on paper. There's only so much peace of mind defacing his brother's old Arithmancy books can give him, and he's quickly reaching its limit. He itches to grab a piece of paper and cover it with notes of ideas and half forgotten theories, wants nothing more than to lock himself away from his family, if only for a few hours.

Except he can't.

He can't because, when the Weasleys want something, when they are determined to get it, they are nearly impossible to stop. This time, they're working together against him and, since the beginning, he had no chance.

He tries to go for a walk alone to clear his thoughts, Bill or Charlie immediately ask him if they can tag along and, if he says no, then Fred and George will track him down and follow him sneakily, like particularly annoying and giggling shadows. He tries to lock himself up in a room alone, his mother will suddenly remember that there's cleaning to be done there. Hell, he even tried to climb on the roof once (probably not his brightest idea) and both Charlie and his father used brooms to go scold him and tell him to climb down.

Even Ginny and Ron have started following him around the house, there is no way around it, whatever he does, he's closely observed by at least one member of his family and it's absolutely exhausting!

With a sigh, he lets his head fall on his arms, crossed on top of Bill's fourth year Arithmancy book. He has been scribbling notes in this one too, mostly because he has nothing more interesting to do. Thinking is difficult when he's around his relatives and, whenever he tries to think about ways to prevent their deaths, his eyes would cross theirs and, suddenly, he would be reliving their death all over again. The situation is an absolute nightmare and he sees no way to make it better. His family is worried because he doesn't sleep and keeps acting strangely so they try to look after him more but, because they look after him more, he has no time to think, no time to calm down and his behaviour is more erratic because of it. He feels tense, as if Ginny had died all over again.

"Hey Perce, are you okay?"

Once upon a time, 'Fred, George, stop!' had been the most pronounced sentence in the Burrow. Now, it has been surpassed by this one, 'Percy, are you okay?', and by a large margin too. Not an hour goes by without one of his siblings asking him if he's feeling alright.

Instead of answering Ron, who has picked up his elder siblings' habit of asking the other boy how he's feeling, Percy groans, which only prompts his brother to go fetch their mother to tell her that 'Percy isn't feeling good, mum!'.

Horrified at the idea of having to endure another session of maternal questions, Percy immediately jumps to his feet and, leaving the Arithmancy book behind, runs out of the house and towards the wheat fields that surrounds their property. He doesn't even have to look behind his back to know that Fred and George are following him and this makes him want to hit something.

He just wants to be alone, why can't they understand that?

Instead of doing as he usually does and ignore his siblings, he decides to try and lose them in the fields. He starts running as fast as he can, using his small nine years old body to hide in the tall grass. Behind him, his brothers swear and start picking up their pace.

They run for a while, for so long in fact, that Fred and George start to get tired. By now, it must be obvious to them that this is not a game and that he's actually trying to escape from them. But, knowing them, they won't give up, not until they have caught up to him. For some reason, this version of the twins is very involved in his mental well-being, sometimes too much for said well-being.

"Percy!" one of them cries out when they begin to struggle to follow him. "Percy, wait!"

He doesnt wait.

"Percy, this isn't funny!"

Their voices seem further and further away and, soon, Percy can only hear his own steps, running up then down a hill. It's exhilerating for a while, being alone, truly alone, and being able to run like this, just for the fun of it.

For the first time in weeks, in years really, he feels alive.

The sun is bright in the sky, Voldemort has not yet come back to life and his family is alive. He can run in the grass like a child and not care about it, he can do things he enjoy just because he wants to do them, he can be everything he wants, do everything he wants.

Something escapes from his mouth, with a start, he realises that it's a laugh.

He feels happy.

It's been so long.

 

He runs for quite some time after that then, when his legs tired, he starts walking, not stopping until he reaches the edge of a forest. From memories, he knows that it's probably the one that's six kilometers away from the Burrow. His parents used to take him and his siblings here to pick up mushroom and take long walks.

Well, he supposes they still do it. After all, he's only nine.

He walks inside the forest confidently, relishing in the feeling of being alone for the first time in what feels like years. There's no one behind him, no one to spy on him and report his every move to his mother. He can act however he wants.

After about one hour of messing around in the forest, he finally stops at the base of a large tree, lets himself slide down the bark and sits down, back proped up against it. He feels tired, his body unused to such exercice. Even later in life, he will never be one for sports, preferring theorical work to physical one but, once in a while, it feels good to be tired for something else than his terrible sleeping habits.

So.

He's alone.

 

Not being in the Burrow feels a bit like lifting a heavy curtain from his mind. Suddenly, his thoughts are much clearer. He doesn't have to try and repress the feelings of panic and grief that rise through him whenever he sees one of his siblings, doesn't have to watch his behaviour and repress his darker, more agressive reflexes. He feels like himself, he feels like Percy.

Finally.

He closes his eyes, starts to think.

 

He wants his family to survive. The biggest threat to them is, obviously, the rise of the Dark Lord. With their ideals, every Weasley would rise to fight him and his army of Death Eaters, which means that simply keeping them away from the fight will not work. They won't be content to stay put while their enemy killed off their friends and destroyed the system they believed in.

If he can't remove his family from the threat, he will have to remove the threat itself.

But then, Percy isn't a fighter. He is better than most wizards, perhaps at average Auror-level in this new timeline, considering the six years he has spent fighting in a war -which is not that impressive considering that the actual Aurors of his time had been much, much stronger than the ones currently employed in the force-, but he's nowhere strong enough to take on the Dark Lord. He knows of only two people who, at the peak of their strength, can duel the man and come out alive : Harry Potter, and his own sister, Ginny Weasley.

Unless he plans to murder him by poison or another subtle assassination attempt, the killing blow has to come from one of these two. Percy is not powerful enough to defy the Dark Lord and he can't die, or there would be no one to prevent the future he has lived through.

And then, there's the matter of the Dark Lord's immortality.

The thing is, the monster had actually been killed by Ginny before but, after two weeks of relative peace for the Light side and utter panic for the dark wizards, he had come back, as strong as ever. Somehow, he had found a way to ignore death, to cheat it. Harry had probably known about it, too, since he had warned them against rejoicing when their adversary had been brought down for the first time.

So the source of his immortality is something Harry will know about at some point, and probably a form of dark magic.

Percy will have to find a way to research the method used by the Dark Lord and, to do that, he'll have to have access to a large quantity of dark books. He's not afraid of them, obviously Luna and him had gone through quite a few of the things back in his future, but he knows how hard they are to find, and how expensive. He'll have to make connections in the darker part of wizarding society if he wants to be able to start his research early.

Considering his family name, that is not going to be easy.

Research the source of the Dark Lord's immortality and then get rid of it. Then, he can try to have him murdered. He'll have to get closer to him in order to do that, of course. If he fails, it's not much of a problem as, even if he gets killed, the source of their enemy's immortality would have been removed and Ginny or Harry would be able to duel and kill him.

But that left Fred.

Back in his first life, Fred had died before the first time the Dark Lord had been killed. Percy will have to find a way to prevent that from happening.

Maybe... if he can prevent the Battle of Hogwarts from taking place? Or if he delays it?

There are a lot of variables to consider when thinking about the fated battle, the first of the Second Wizarding War. As far as he knows, the fact that he's at least a bit better at killing Death Eaters now than he was six years ago, when Fred died, means that he'll be able to save him this time around.

And maybe there won't even be a Battle of Hogwarts, maybe he'll get to the Dark Lord first.

 

In his head, the picture now seems clearer and, suddenly, he knows what he has to do. The thought of it makes his hands shake and his teeth clench but he has no choice. He's doing this for his family, surely, they will understand.

And even if they don't, they will be alive in the end so, really, what does it matter?

After making his decision, he thinks about going back to the Burrow. His family is probably worried sick by now, maybe they have even started searching the fields to find him. It would be kinder to go back and reassure them but...

But he doesn't want to. He wants to stay alone for a while, wants to enjoy his solitude for as long as he can.

So he stands up and starts walking blindly though the woods, thinking about his future, about Arithmancy and about the books he'll have to read again and pretend not to know, about his family, about the changes in their behaviour, about his siblings, their death, their life, about nothing and everything.

 

He loses track of time but, at some point, it gets dark. Really, really dark. It gets cold too, and he can feel goosebumps on his bare arms. His feet, bare too, hurt from the cold and he's pretty sure they've started bleeding a few kilometers ago. There must be around a hundred needles stuck in them by now but he doesn't care. He's cold, hungry, tired but he still feels it, he still feels alive, still feels like himself.

"Luna," he tells the night sky, "we did it."

He's not one for dancing or for screaming in joy but he allows himself a little twirl. He knows what to do.

 

Half and hour later, he decides that it's time to go back.

Then, he realises that he's completely lost.

Clenching his fists, he doesn't allow himself to feel any fear and marches on. If he keeps walking in one direction, without ever deviating from his path, then he'll eventually reach the end of the woods and, then, it'll be easier to find his way back to the Burrow.

When he reaches the edge of the woods, he can barely feel his feet anymore and he's extremely cold but he got himself in this situation and he will get himself out of it, he decided to run away, now he has to find his way back, this is only logical.

 

The wood gives way to a large field of low cut grass, with a few gentle hills rolling in the horizons and some lone trees standing curved against the wind. The place feels vaguely familiar but Percy is too old and too tired to try and remember when he has seen it before. With a bit of luck, he saw it on his way to the woods and he's on the right path.

It's only when he comes upon a small house, lost in the middle of the sea of grass, that he finally remembers where exactly he's walking.

This is Luna's house.

He has only seen it once, a few years ago, back when he was twenty-six and had offered to accompany her to check on her father. The house had been protected by so many charms that it seemed unlikely anything had happened to him and, indeed, the night had been nothing but a joyful reunion between father and daughter. Percy still remembers it as a nice break from the horror of the war, a moment of peace and joy inbetween all the death and misery.

 

Without any hesitation, he walks in the direction of the house, noticing with a grimace that his feet are indeed bleeding when they leave dark footprints on the stone steps leading to the front door. Trying to do his best to look less like he just got lost in the woods and more like he's a normal neighbourhood kid, Percy smoothes down his hair and tries to get rid of a bit of the dirt on his cheeks and arms. When he considers himself a bit more presentable, he turns to the door and knocks on it as loudly as his hands allow him to. Which is not very loudly. He has very small hands.

He has no idea what hour it is but it must not be that late because, as soon as he's finished knocking on it, the door opens to reveal the slightly bewildered face of Xenophilius Lovegood, who looks much younger than he did the last time Percy has seen him. The man looks him up and down, then he turns back to the inside of the house and yells :

 

"Pandora! I've found the lost Weasley!"

"What?" a feminine voice answers. "What do you mean, you found him?"

"I mean that he's right there!"

There's a sound like something falling to the ground, then hurried steps, coming closer, then Luna's mother, Pandora Lovegood, is looking down at him, a surprised expression on her face. Percy looks back at her curiously, taking in her light blonde hair and her bright blue eyes. She is Luna's mother ; they look very much alike, down to her strange fashion sense : Pandora is wearing a necklace that seems to be made out of, of all things, bits of carrots.

"Oh dear," she says, "that is the lost Weasley."

"Hello," Percy says, because this seems like the polite thing to do.

"Oh hello boy!" Xenophilius exclaims. "Nice to see you! Or rather, not that nice, since you being here means that you are not at your parents' house. They are quite worried about you, do you know that?"

"Philly, don't be mean to the poor boy!" Luna's mother hisses, whacking her husband on the back of the head. "Why don't you come in, dear? You look a bit cold."

Percy is more than a bit cold but he doesn't say anything, stepping silently inside the Lovegoods' home. Both of Luna's parents look a bit alarmed when they notice the bloody marks he leaves everywhere he steps and it's not long before he's sat on a large and comfortable couch and Pandora is putting a strange ongent on the sole of his feet.

"In a few hours, these will be as good as new!" she smiles.

"Thank you," he answers. Then, curious, he asks : "Did you make this?"

"Yes! It's a simplified version of a Wiggenfeld potion, one you don't have to drink. It's much easier to make and it's faster to heal small injuries! See, it might look complex but the trick is to replace the enchanted water with a bit of blood-frog's oil. After that, the ingredients work much better together, and-..."

She stops for a while, her gaze lingering in the space above Percy's head, before she turns back to him, a large smile on her face.

"But I'm probably boring you with this! You haven't even started Hogwarts yet, have you?"

Percy is about to tell her that he's not bored at all and that listening to hear talk about potions is, in fact, very interesting, but he's interrupted by a voice he knows well.

His father.

But ... he can't be here, can he?

Confused, he turns around on the couch, barely listening to Pandora when she tells him to be careful not to rub the ongent off his feet by moving them too much. A few meters away, Xenophilius is crouching in front of the family's fireplace, talking to his father's face, which is barely visible from where Percy is looking but still recognisable enough.

"...need to focus on the search." his father finishes, sounding so stressed that he instantly feels bad about his decision to run off.

"Well, you don't have to search anymore, Arthur. The boy's here."

"What?!"

"Yes, he just came to our door, we thought it would be better to contact you quickly."

"He's here?"

"Yes, I just told you that." Xenophilius answers, sounding slightly exasperated.

"How is he?"

"Well ... we're taking care of it."

"What?!"

Before Luna's father can answer, the fire disappears and there's a distant crack, coming from behind the entrance door. Percy has spent enough time running away from such a sound to know that it's from someone apparating close by. Considering the discussion he just overheard, it's probably his father.

He doesn't know how he feels about that.

Before he can decides if he's happy to see his father again or afraid for the very same reason, the door is flung open and Arthur Weasley steps inside the house.

"What do you mean, 'you're taking care of it', Xenophil-..."

His anger disappears as soon as his eyes land on Percy, who can't help but flinch pretty badly at the attention. He doesn't dare move any muscle as his father takes his appearance in, from his head to his (damaged) toes. In a second, his father is kneeling in front of him, hands hovering around his face, as if he was afraid touching his skin would hurt him.

"Oh Merlin, Percy." He says, his voice trembling. "Percy, Percy. You're safe."

His apparent hesitation to touch him disappears and he hugs him tightly against his chest. A bit dazed, Percy doesn't protest, doesn't even move.

His father stays silent for a moment, hugging him with a fierce protectiveness until, finally, Percy feels him raising his head in Xenophilius' and Pandora's direction.

"Thank you both. Thank you so much, I am forever in your debt."

"Nonsense," Pandora protests, "you and Molly would have done the same for Luna. It's normal."

"What did you expect us to do? Leave the kid outside?" Xenophilius shrugs.

His careless response gets him another whack from his wife and a strained laugh from Percy's father.

"Has he... Has he said anything?"

Pandora frowns, visibly thinking over their short interraction, then she answers : "He said hello to us, then he asked me if I made this."

She gestures to Percy's feet. Frowning, his father glances at them, blanching when he takes in the amount of damage he has made on them. Most of the skin is gone, and there is dried blood everywhere up to his ankles. Percy is far from skeamish but, even for him, it's not a very pretty sight.

"He's a curious boy," his father finally says. "Gets it from me, I think."

He's still holding Percy in his arms and it seems like he has no intention of letting him go anytime soon.

"Yes, and very polite too," Pandora notes. "You raised him well!"

"Thank you."

 

Percy doesn't listen to the rest of their conversation, focusing instead on the beating of his father's heart. The sound is soothing and, in the warmth of the older man's embrace, he starts to feel safe again. It has been years since someone has hugged him like this, years and he hadn't realised until now just how much he had missed it.

The voices of his and Luna's parents disappear into the background as the beating of his dad's heart grows more and more present around him. Soon, he's completely surrounded by it and, even if he's not alone, even if he can still remember the despair on the man face, only a few months ago, the sadness and the grief, he still feels like himself, he still feels alive.

This, he decides, is good.

 

oOo

 

His stint in the woods gets him grounded for the rest of the summer holidays, which only last for eight more days, and has the unfortunate effect of worsening the concern his family already had for him. From the morning after his night alone to the day Bill and Charlie leave for Hogwarts, his older brothers don't let him get out of their sight and Fred and George are even worse. They take to shadowing his every steps and, soon enough, Ron, who spends most of his time trying to emulate them, falls in line with them. So far, only Ginny doesn't follow him everywhere he goes, and that's mostly because his mum usually keeps her at her side all the time.

He makes the mistake of complaining about it one day and earns himself a glare from nearly every single member of his family and a rather curt 'then you shouldn't run away' from Fred. After that, he grundgingly accepts that he won't be able to have a private life until Bill and Charlie go back to Hogwarts. This, thankfully, is soon enough that he won't have to ressort to any extremes to be at peace again.

Despite everything, there are some good things that come out of this situation. The most important and probably less practical of which is that he gets closer to his siblings, and not only in the physical sense. He learns a lot about them, like how serious Bill can get whenever he gets it into his head that he wants to do something and how flippant he can be about everything else, how Charlie is nothing but bright smiles and wild ideas, unable to concentrate until you bring up one of his passions, which unfailingly causes him to instantly focus on it.

But so far, the ones he learn the most about are the twins.

They barely knew each other, before. He limited himself to the idea that Fred and George were immature pranksters unable to see the real stakes of life and they thought of him as a boring stickler to the rules. Of course, the war changed his perception on George, at least, but it isn't until this particular time in his life that he finally realises how wrong he has been.

Because the twins might be pranksters, but they are not immature, and neither are they unable to consider the gravity of their actions. In fact, they seem very much aware of it. Or, at least, Fred is.

Of the two, Fred is the most reasonable, the one that will put things to an end if they go to far when George, were his brother not here, would undoubtedly keep going, not seeing the wrong in his actions until he went to far. George has a tendency for extremes, for passion and for danger. There's something a bit cruel in him, but also something fiercely protective. Percy sees that last side of him much more often than the first one nowadays. It hasn't always been this way, though.

 

It makes it more difficult, still, what he's trying to accomplish. One day, he'll have to leave his family behind, for their own good of course, and, when this day comes, he'd have liked them to be less attached to him. The same relationship they had in his former life would have been perfect : affectionate but distant, love without any real bonds.

This is not what he has now.

Sometimes, he can't help but think that, if he fails, their death will become even more painful because of it.

 

oOo

 

Charlie and Bill go back to school.

Him being allowed to accompany the rest of the family to the train station is a subject of discord among them. Bill and his dad think that he's be better off staying home and that the number of people at King's Cross is likely to have him panicking, while Charlie and his mum argue that they can't leave him behind when everyone else is going.

The subject of his mental health is a sensible one and, due to his age, one he's not really allowed to give his opinion on. Had he been, he would have sided with Bill. He does want to see his brothers off but he knows, deep inside of him, that King's Cross will only bring back bad memories. He still can see it in ruins in his nightmares.

In the end, Charlie's side wins and he goes with them.

His mother holds his hand the entire way there, and only lets him go when it's time to cross the magic barrier. He shivers a bit at the feeling, magic against magic, and has to remind himself that not every wards are meant to hurt and maim. Some of them just aim to protect magical folks from Muggles.

 

He's barely stepped on the platform when, already, George has grabbed his hand and is dragging him towards the rest of their siblings. Around them, hundreds of wizards are saying their goodbyes to the children they're sending away. Some of them are crying, but happiness is obvious on most faces.

"I'll miss you guys." Charlie tells them once the family has reunited, a few dozen meters down the platform, close to one of the entrances to the train.

"Don't forget to write!" Mum sniffs, her eyes watery. "I want to know everything!"

"Yeah don't worry mum, I'll tell you everything."

"Well," Dad interjects, "not everything. I don't want to know about every rule your break, or about you going into the Forbidden For-..."

"Well I do! Arthur!" Mum frowns, hitting their dad on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Tell us if you make the team!" Fred adds, jumping up and down.

"We'll come to your games!" George promises, looking like a boy ready to sneak out of the house and into a train just to go see his older brother play a school-level Quidditch game.

"Thanks guys, and you, don't be to hard on mum and dad, alright?"

The twins smile mischeviously but don't answer anything, probably because any promise they make about not causing trouble will end up being broken in a day or two. Charlie, however, doesn't seem to take any offence at that, turning instead to Ron, who's been watching them talk with big eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

"And you mate, you'll have to represent the Canons for me when I'm at Hogwarts, think you can do that?"

Ron nods vigorously. Following his older brother's example he's taken a liking to the Chudley Canons, one of the worst teams of the British Quidditch League. So bad in fact, that it has become almost legendary.

Honestly, Percy will never understand their love for this game.

After that, Charlie kneels down to Ginny's level and whispers something in her ear that makes her smile brightly. He rises to his feet once again and turns his gaze to the only sibling he hasn't said anything to yet.

"Percy..."

He hesitates, obviously not knowing what to say.

"... be safe, alright?"

For one second, Percy remembers another Charlie, in another time, another war, telling him the exact same words, after Fred's funerals, when they all split up to go join their respective units. He had smiled then, sad and a little bit broken. Five months later, he was dead. The second Weasley to fall at the hands of Death Eaters.

But there's no one to fight, no Avada to dodge and no Cruciatus Curse to endure. Here, the greatest danger to his health is getting lost in the woods and scraping his feet, nothing compared to what his family went through before.

"I'll try." Percy answers, yelping when George kicks him in the shin.

"You're supposed to say yes, idiot." Fred whispers in his ear.

"Don't worry about that guys!" Charlie laughs, before going to hug Mum and Dad. He smiles at them all one last time, then steps into the train, his heavy bag behind him.

He doesn't look back.

They're left on the side with Bill, who's fiddling with his brand new Prefect badge. He smiles at them too and, instead of going off into a personnalised speak for every single one of them, like Charlie did, he simply says : "I'll see you laters guys."

And then he leaves.

Just before he enters the train, he stops, turns back.

"Oh and Percy ! You can take any book you want in my room, don't worry about it!"

After that, he's truly gone.

 

oOo

 

Things are quiet at the Burrow after that. Percy is moved back into his own room, on which a few dozen spells have been placed to warn his parents whenever he has a particularly bad nightmares or in case he accidentally hurts himself, and everyone else goes back to their usual routine. Mum starts giving them lessons again, at a more intensive pace at least, and Dad goes back to the Ministry full-time. Life settles into a comfortable rythm. Every Sunday, they'll get letters sent by Charlie and Bill, telling them all about their Hogwarts adventures. All the other days of the week are calm, with the only exceptions being when Fred and George decide to play a trick on Ron or Ginny.

This is another thing that has changed, too. Before, Percy used to be the primary pranking target of the twins. Now, they focus all their efforts on their younger siblings and, while Ron takes to it with his usual frown and occasional yelling, Ginny has a completely different reaction.

Because she starts to fight back.

Of course, she's only five so her fighting back consists mostly of throwing things at the twins and calling them names a five years old thinks are hurtful, but this is new. Fred and George never used to prank Ginny, so her reacting like this is completely foreign to Percy.

 

At the end of September, Fred and George are grounded for a month after almost managing to trick Ron into taking and Unbreakable Oath. The ritual is, thankfully, interrupted by their parents but the effects of the incident linger far into the month of October, with the atmosphere being decisively more tense than it had been before. This, however, does put a bit of his siblings' attention off Percy's back and, by the time November rolls around, everything is almost back to normal. His family, it seems, has grown used to him and his new habits and, apart from following him when he takes a walk outside, they don't seem that much concerned with him or what he's doing.

It's honestly quite refreshing.

Unfortunately, there's not much Percy can do with his newfound liberty. He's still too young to use magic, at least not without raising suspicion, and the documents he'd need for a real study into his future course of actions are not available to him. He might like Arithmancy but, after writing down every formula he can think of in Bill's old books, he finds himself quite bored, which makes him restless.

Leaving his Arithmancy books in his room, he finally decides to go back to Bill's and find another subject to occupy himself with. His brother's passion behin ward breaking, he's mostly focused on Ancien Runes and other magical forms of writings, something he himself he very knowledgeable in : they had had to use several of them while creating the rift, and, even if Luna was the real expert, he had picked up quite a few tricks when working with her.

He ends up polishing his knowledge of Runes, latin, Ancient greek, and other languages commonly used in magic. To fill up his time, he gives himself homework. One of them is a NEWT level exercise often given during the Ancient Runes exams : translating a common spell into Runes, making sure that the written incantation has the same effect when activated than the spell chosen.

 

His parents are a bit worried to see him scribbling away in notebooks once again but, when he tells them that he's trying to learn Ancient Runes, they let him off, albeit with a slightly astonished look. Dad even quizzes him on it at one point, as if to check that his young son really is learning such an old language.

After that, he tries not to let his Dad see any of his most advanced work, he can't imagine the face he'll make if he ever realises that Percy is able to transcribe Lumos and Alohomora into Runes and make them work efficiently.

(This would be an O on his Ancient Runes NEWT, at least)

 

Soon enough, Christmas is there and, with it, comes the usual Weasley presents. Dad gives each one of them a fun and harmless trinket he managed to take away from work -this year Percy is presented with a pen that writes with an ink full of twinkling, swirling stars- and Mum has cooked their favourite treats and prepared homemade pumpkin juice, not to speak of the sweaters she has knitted for them, as she does every year.

Percy spends his first Christmas back nibbling on a Chocolate Frog and looking at the twins as they unveil their second-hand potions kit that Dad has successfully haggled from one of his coworkers. In the future, both of them would get an O on their Potions OWL, their best grade and probably the only one they really worked for, even if he suspects them to have done it purely out of spite and to piss Snape off.

Ron has inherited Charlie's old toy broom, an antiquity that has been passed down in the family for generations and has trouble getting itself off the ground. Despite that, the boy seems to love it and he keeps running around the house with it in his arms, a big smile on his face. Sitting on the couch, clutching her own enchanted dress to her chest, Ginny looks incredibly jealous. No doubt she would have liked to have a broom herself, with how obsessed with Quidditch she will be later in life, but, for now, she's still their parents' little girl, and it'll take some time for her to break out of that role.

 

January goes by, then February and, by the time March comes around and Ron turns seven, Percy has managed to turn every First year spell into their Ancient Runes equivalent and is now moving on to the Second year curriculum. The task is difficult and exhausting but it feels good to have a goal, to do research, to fail and to try again. During the days, he pretends to study with his mum and plays with his siblings and, during the nights, he practices Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. This is fun, this is a good way to pass the time until he has to start Hogwarts again.

His good mood is noticed by the rest of his family and, soon enough, the surveillance they put him under all these months ago all but disappears. He's allowed to go on walks alone again and, if the spells on his room don't disappear, he's able to weaken them sufficiently enough for them to only alert his parents one time out of three. For all intents and purpose, it seems like he's truly doing better.

And just in time, too. In a few months, he'll be back in Hogwarts and, as soon as this happens, he'll have to be at full strength.

 

Around May, Fred and George start pranking him again. Their teasing is almost nothing compared to what he had had to endure in his first life and, this time, he welcomes it gladly. Having to deal with a few waterbombs and finding snails in his bed is much better than being treated like a piece of glass about to shatter. It took them some time but it seems that, finally, the twins are starting to see him as their slightly annoying older brother Percy again.

Things really seem to be looking up for him, and he's infinitely glad for that. When Bill and Charlie come back from Hogwarts, the little brother they find sitting in the dining room, drawing Ancient Runes on a blank piece of paper, is very different from the little brother they left behind.

Of course, Percy doesn't doubt that their parents reported his progress to his older siblings but, from the way their eyes light up when he hugs them, it's a very different thing for them to read about it and to see it. This evening, there's a lot of smiles and laughs from everyone in the family, this evening, the war seems far away, a bad memory almost forgotten.

 

The next morning, over breakfast, Charlie tells them that he wants to switch his Divination class for Ancient Runes and Percy freezes.

"I mean," his brother says, between two bites of scrambled eggs, "I only took Divination because I used to think that it'd help me find dragons faster. Turns out it really doesn't work that way."

"Wait-- That's why you took Divination?" Bill's eyes look ready to pop out of his head as he sets his coffee down on the table, too stunned to think about drinking from it.

"Well yeah. Why I else would I take Divination?"

"I don't know, to study a different form of magic?"

"Yeah right. You didn't take Divination, did you?"

Bill shrugs.

"No. But you should have told me you wanted to take it for that. I'd have told you it was pointless and you'd have saved yourself a year."

"Well it's too late now. At least I learned how to make a pretty decent tea."

Mum looks extremely interested at that, apparently not bothered at all that her two oldest son are speaking badly of a school subject. The inner Prefect inside of Percy wants to tell them all to be more respectful but the implications of Charlie's new choice of class and the fact that this did not happen last time around are enough to make him keep his mouth shut. His hands are shaking slightly, he has to put them under the table before anyone notices.

"Have you spoken to your Head of House?" Their dad asks, sensible as always.

"Yep. McGonagall-..."

"Professor McGonagall, darling." Mum interrupts.

"Professor McGonagall, sorry. Well, she seemed pretty happy about it. I don't she like Tre-- Professor Trelawney that much."

"I don't think she really cares about her." Bill points out, seemingly a bit sceptic at the idea of a rivalry between professors.

"Anyways, she said yes, I can switch classes. But I'll have to work on the third year Ancient Runes book during the summer, to catch up a little."

"Oh, you can take it," Bill says, "And if you have any questions-..."

"...You can ask Percy!" Fred grins.

Charlie and Bill turn to stare at the boy, confused. It takes all of Percy's willpower not to jump to his feet and run out of the house. He knew it was a bad idea to show his interest in Ancient Runes, he knew it but he still did it, and now...

"Oh, right. Percy has your book, Bill." Dad remembers. "Will you be okay giving it back to your brother, Perce?"

He wants to say no, he really does. He wants to tell his dad that he lost it, that it was destroyed in an experiment or even that it was ruined in one of the twins' pranks. But it's not, and everyone at the table already knows it. He used it no later than yesterday, to brush up on some basic knowledge and add some observations about a specific Rune combinations in the margin next to it. He can't lie about this, or the situation will devolve again.

His prolonged silence is interpreted as an unwillingness to part with the book by Charlie, who tells him, in a pleading tone :

"Please Perce, I really need it. I promise I'll let you look up anything you want."

"Yeah," he mutters. "Alright, you can have it."

"Thanks!" His brother beams.

This evening, Percy goes to Charlie's room to hand him the book and is rewarded with a wide grin and a quick hug. His lack of response to the gesture makes the older boy frowns but, since he's probably still under the impression that he wants to keep the manual for himself, his brother doesn't seem to take it as too worrying and he's allowed to go back to his room without any further inquiries.

Two days later, at lunch, Charlie tells Bill that his note are really helping him understand some of the finer points of Ancient Runes, even if most of them are a bit too complicated for him yet. Forgoing any notion of politeness his mum and dad have instilled in him, Percy stands up and leave the table, heading for the garden just as his oldest sibling, surprised, answers that he has never taken any notes inside of his school books. There's a bit of a commotion, one of the twins ask to see the book, the other is worrying about where he's going.

Then, he's too far away to listen to the rest of the conversation.

He walks past the gnomes and into the tall grass around the Burrow, remembering another day, another night when he had done this very thing, run away from his family and his responsibilities to get some peace of mind. These days, they trust him with his walks and, even if Dad would usually run after him to check that he's not going too far away, especially after an exit like the one he just made, the discussion his family is having is apparently too distracting for him to give him more than a passing glance.

This is fine, though, this is what Percy wants.

He has no wish to be confronted by his parents now, just like he has no wish to explain to Bill and Charlie what he did to their school book. He'd rather be alone.

 

He doesn't walk to the forest, this time, and stops where the hills start to roll down, two and a half kilometers away from the Burrow. Tired -he always is, now, much more than he used to be when he was an adult-, he lays down on the grass and looks up at the clear blue sky. He feels like a bloody moron, displaying his knowledge of Runes like that, and he's pretty sure this is going to come back to haunt him. He has no explanation for this and, unless his parents have serious faith in his intelligence, they're going to realise pretty soon that something is wrong with him, that he shouldn't know these things.

"Luna," he tells the lifeless sky, "I'm an idiot."

She doesn't answer, in part because she's dead but mostly because she has never existed, and never will, in this world.

Percy closes his eyes, imagines her, laying down next to him, alive and smiling, with a thousand ideas in her mind and a hundred songs on her lips. He still remembers her voice...

"Hey Luna."

It's the first time he does this, try to speak to her. He knows she can't hear it but, in a way, even if he's only talking to the imaginary ghost of his best friend, it makes him feel a bit better. It helps.

"I'll be going back to Hogwarts soon. I think I'm going to get my letter tomorrow, or maybe the day after that.

I already know what I'm going to do there, there's a lot of work, a lot of research to be done but ... well ... you know I like to do this kind of stuff. I'm not going to go in blazing with my wand drawn and curse him, after all, I'm not Ginny. Or Harry, for that matter."

It feels strange and freeing at the same time, saying aloud what he's been thinking all along. It's like a weight has been lifted off his chest and, suddenly, he can't stop talking.

"It's weird seeing her this way, so young. And alive, too. They're all like this. Young. And alive. I kept expecting them to keel over and die, at first, but they didn't, they're still here and this is not a dream. This is us, our work. This is the past.

I was planning to fly under the radar, you know. Well, as under the radar as I could, anyways, but they found out about-- about the Runes I guess? It's my fault, I know, I was dumb. I am dumb. I keep making all these stupid mistakes that I would never..."

His breath hitches. He has to take some time to calm himself down. He opens his eyes and turns to his side, imagining Luna laying down in the grass in front of him, so close he could touch her if he only reached out.

"I don't know who I am, really. Don't know how old I'm supposed to be. I remember you told me that time doesn't matter and that everyone sees it differently. I think I'm starting to understand what you meant. I think I'm starting to understand a lot of the things you said before. I used to pretend I knew what you were talking about, you know, but I didn't.

I was good at pretending, before.

I'm not sure if I still am, but I will have to be. In Hogwarts, you know. I'll have to do a lot of pretending, and a lot of work."

He rolls on his back and, slowly, he sits up, knees pressed against his chest and arms holding his legs close to his body. The winds pick up again, strong enough to make some dandelion's seeds fly away in the distance. It's pretty, in a way.

"I wish you were there with me."

He reaches out in front of him and plucks one of the dandelions from the ground. It still has most of its seeds attached to it but, when he blows on it, they are easily carried by the wind, dispersing in every direction, ready to grow and become full-sized flowers themselves. This is something he had not allowed himself to observe before, nature, the wilderness. Percy Weasley had never been one for much reflection and philosophical observation of the world around him. Percy Weasley had been an ambitious young man, set on avoiding his father's mistakes and on carving his own path. He is not that person anymore.

"I hope your death wasn't too painful." He says, as a way of saying goodbye. "I hope they could bury your body."

He presses his forehead against his knees, shuts his eyes.

"I'll never forget you."

 

His assistant, his best friend. His last friend.

Luna.

 

He'll do it for her too.

 

Notes:

Just the first part in a series centered about Percy Weasley going back in time. Honestly this was supposed to be the first chapter of the main story but it's too long so here it is.
It's been too long since I've written anything...
If anyone's interested in what comes next, I have the first chapter ready so I can technically post it soon. If no one is, well... I guess I don't really care?
Anyways, hope you liked it. I learned American English in France so my British English is shit. If any of you actually speaks it, I'd be grateful to have my mistakes and americanisms pointed out to me.

Bye!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Unspeakable Truths