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His mother always told him he was very responsible.
And he was, he made sure of it. He always listened and followed the rules, he always tried to help out. Because he loved his family, even if it wasn’t perfect, even if they were loud, annoying and mean, even if they didn’t understand him, even if they left, even after he left. He loved and cared for them with all his heart.
After Bill and Charlie left to Hogwarts, she put him in charge. She was always busy and dad was always working, so he had to take care of his siblings. It wasn’t easy, his brothers defied his authority at every turn. But all being said, not everything was bad, they had good times together playing and laughing like only innocent and naive children know.
He would honor the promise he made to his mother, one sworn under the faint rays of the morning sun entering through the kitchen window. After Bill and Charlie had let the day prior, he woke up early to help her with the chores, it was one of the only times he could spend one on one time with her. She told him, in that sweet voice only mothers have, that he was the oldest now, that he had to look out after his siblings more than ever, that he was the responsible one now, that he was in charge. She asked him to protect them, she asked him to take care of them (maybe she didn’t say that last part, but the brain of seven year old Percy heard it anyway).
He said yes without an ounce of doubt, believing himself up to the task. Knowing, that he would do anything to keep them safe and sound, as the oldest, the responsible one, the one in charge.
It was a challenge, that’s for sure. The twins never listened, they caused ruckus wherever they went, messing with anything and anyone, specially him. But he didn’t give up, this was most surely one of the reasons of why there’s always been conflict between them, that and the fact that since he was the “golden boy” of the family his mother would always compare them to him, causing friction amongst his younger brothers. At the time he couldn’t understand why couldn’t they just behave. Honestly, he probably never did. It’s like they have completely different ways of communicating, speaking entirely different languages.
But he knew that he loved them anyways, he cared deeply, and he made sure to show it, even if it was in his own way. But most of the time it wasn’t well received, specially when they were at Hogwarts. At the end he learned to not be such a “bore”, to give them space and watch over them from the distance (unless he had to take care of one of the twins new messes). He would come to regret that course of action.
When he found out that Ginny was possessed and almost killed, doomed to be trapped inside the Chamber forever, until her skin decomposed and there was only bone left, were not for Ron and Harry (and isn’t that a punch in the gut? He didn’t know and his younger brother and his friend had to take care of his failure). He almost resigned of his badge that instant, and he definitely couldn’t sleep for the next few months, haunted by guilt and endless nightmares of his little sister dying alone in the dark, crying for help on her final moments and asking him why didn’t he do something.
But he never stopped caring, he couldn’t drop the parental act, the responsibility, the worrying; even after the fight, even after he left them for the Ministry, even if he tried to stop thinking about them. All because he was tired of how they treated him; of how his father wouldn’t even consider that maybe they wanted him for something outside of his family, that they wanted him for him, that he was worth something, that they believed so easily that he would betray them in the first place; of how they would blindly believe a man that showed time and time again that he couldn’t (or worse, wouldn’t) do anything to protect the children under his care from mortal peril, always leaving the students to fight the danger.
He thought a lot those lonely nights at his apartment during the war, curling on his bed like a newborn and unable to sleep because of the horrifying nightmares about the terrible things his family could be going through. Not knowing if they were safe because he couldn’t find them devastated him, because he left willingly and now he couldn’t go back no matter how badly he ached to see them again (sadly, this public self-imposed distance was one of the things that saved him at the time). And it wasn’t just the nightmares, it was the knowledge that the next morning he would have to go in there again, to those ominous rooms and dark corridors, to the sounds of torture, cries and screams for help that wouldn’t come.
He did what he could, anything he could, to stop them, to divert them, to hide the truth of surnames blessed with first generation magic, to help the people that had to leave do so. And it wasn’t easy, and he risked getting caught every time, he risked getting killed before he had the chance to apologise to them.
But the time to do that came, his last chance for redemption. To compensate his family for all the wrong things he did, all his mistakes. To help them win a battle that had been brewing for years but he only saw it when it was too late. To demonstrate his love for them, that he cared, that he always had and never stopped; even if he was angry, resentful and aching so much on the inside for an ounce of approval that he turned his back on them.
In the end, it all boiled down to this: Percy Weasley loved his family and he would do anything for them.
Perhaps that’s precisely why he should have known that this is how it was going to end, from the beginning, when he made that promise to his mother all those years ago.
The battle was fierce, he was doing everything in his power to fight the Death Eaters that were hoarding the school, the place he had spent so much time, learning and loving, those ancient halls of wisdom so old they had a thousand stories to tell.
Fred and him were roaming around when they were faced by two Death Eaters, they fought for a bit tightly matched but quickly losing advantage. Thankfully for them Ron, Harry and Hermione came down the corner, eager to help them out. Then the fight quickly turned to their favour, spells flying around like flashing lasers of colour.
One of those spells, Percy’s, to be more precise, hit one of the Death Eaters in the face, tearing his mask off to reveal the face of a man that Percy knew a little too well.
— Hello, Minister! — Bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. — Did I mention I’m resigning?
— You’re joking, Perce!
Shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee.
And in that moment, when he saw those cheerful eyes looking at him with a mix of awe and joy, a strange feeling came over him. He doesn’t know why, or how, maybe it was the promise he made his mother all those years ago. Or maybe, it was the one he made to George, back when he wasn’t Perfect Prefect Percy, when there were still times they had fun together, when they trusted their fears with each other, back when the chaos wasn’t as exhausting as it became.
Many years ago, under the dark veil of a chilly autumn night, on one of those rare instances when only one of the twins got ill and they had to separate them to put one of then on “quarantine”, Percy had to share a room with George. The sound of rain hitting the roof lulled them to sleep, but the sound of thunder striking down didn’t help. Usually, George would have Fred to cuddle with on these stormy nights, that night he only had Percy.
And, in an act of love and care, he filled Fred’s role, trying to calm his brother to sleep. It didn’t work as well, but at least he wasn’t screaming his lungs off. That night they talked, in harsh whispers as the sound of rain drowned their voices in it’s echoes. A promise was made, from a very tired and reassuring Percy to a very tired and scared George. The thunder wouldn’t get him, because he was there. Nothing bad would ever happen to him, or any of his siblings, because Percy was there. He will always be there to protect them from harm.
And maybe, that night, among the static in the air and the clouds that covered the sky like a heavy quilt, magic heard them. And compelled by the scene it decided that, one day, when mortal peril knocked at the door, it would grant the brother the power of action, to keep his promise of protection to his brothers. Even if it wasn’t the one he made the promise to in the first place.
In the future, on a stormy night of autumn, when the rain fell on the roof and lulled him to sleep and the sound of thunder didn’t bother him anymore, George would remember this promise. That night he wouldn’t sleep.
— You actually are joking, Perce… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since-
Percy pushed Fred down, cutting him off before he would say anything else. He didn’t even realise that he did it, like it was reflex action.
Then the air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet, one Stunned, the other Transfigured. After a few seconds of stillness, the silence was broken by screams.
Fred felt a heavy weight on top of him, when he opened his eyes (not even remembering when he closed them) he saw the roof, and on the corner of his eye, a hole where before was a wall. He tried to get up, half buried in the wreckage and bleeding from some parts of his body, severely bruised in others. When he looked around to see if everyone was safe his eyes locked in to what was Percy laying on the floor with a pool of blood around his head, and it was only growing bigger.
His eyes were open.
He got up, ignoring the excruciating pain in his body, and he hobbled along to his side, dropping to his knees and trying to stop the bleeding with his bare hands, his wand still somewhere in the rubble. He couldn’t hear himself cry. He didn’t even notice when Ron dropped beside him, trying to use all the healing spells that came to his mind. None of them worked.
Harry and Hermione came from the side, she was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood.
— No, no, no! — Someone was shouting. — No! Percy! No!
And Fred was shaking with his hands bloody, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his wand held tightly, and Percy’s eyes stared without seeing, limp on the ground after a final act of love and devotion to promises made for the sake of younger siblings.
Later, when everyone was in the great hall, mourning and waiting for something to happen, Fred was sitting next to the body of his brother with his palms against his red, teary eyes. He was half covered in bandages, but he could only think of how Percy didn’t have any, because they were useless to begin with.
In the distance, he heard George calling for him, his voice reaching dangerous levels of uncertainty and fear. Fred couldn’t speak, his throat felt plumped by all the sadness and dread in his body, like it calcificated his vocal chords so he couldn’t do anything but cry.
He just came back. They had just reconciliated. They hadn’t seen each other in ages and now they wouldn’t see each other again.
They just lost him a second time, and now it was forever.
He knew the moment his twin saw him when fast footsteps approached, rumbling loud on the echoey room where they shared so many laughs now filled with death and fright. Fred heard how George’s call interrupted itself by a devastating sound of sorrow made by the same person the moment he realised who was laying on the ground. His eyes now closed.
— Percy?
Fred let out a shakey breath, his hands still blocking his view, he had seen enough. He felt George drop to the ground, his hand reaching for his older brother’s hand, but Fred didn’t see.
— W... was he with you?
Fred nodded slightly. After a bit he mumbled.
— Ron too...
George stayed silent, tears running down his cheeks. It wasn’t long before the rest of the family found them. Mom, dad, Ginny and Bill, who was with Fleur.
Cries of pain filled the air, his family mourning the boy that had returned to them just to be snatched away right after. Fred remained blind to the world.
His dad, pale as a sheet, asked.
— How? He was... We just got him back...
He said, his voice dripping with the pain of losing a son, the sadness that came with it.
His mother was holding his brother’s head, cradling him in her arms. Knees on the floor and unconsolable. He never wanted to hear her sound like that ever again. It was two times now that Percy made her cry, it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Ginny, his fierce little sister was holding Percy’s hand with upmost delicacy, as if he were to crumble and leave nothing behind. She sniffed every one in a while, her coughing and sobbing joining the rest of the cries in the room, a melody of grief in the air.
Bill was holding Fleur’s hand too tightly, but she didn’t mind, she supported him as he cried, tears running endlessly down his face, his lip trembling.
How could Percy look so at peace? Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he see how this was destroying them? Why couldn’t he wake up?
— I didn’t even get to apologize...
He heard his father mumble, his voice cracking in almost every syllable. His mother’s cries only grew louder, like something had been ripped out of her soul (for the second time, and now forever).
Suddenly Ron was with them too.
— We were fighting Death Eaters... — He said softly, his voice raw. — He jinxed the Minister and- and made a joke about it when the wall exploded.
George looked at Fred, who only sobbed.
— I think he saved me...
Fred lamented, speaking through the pain and sounding as he couldn’t believe it, like he was making up the memory. His family looked at him, specially Ron, who was there and didn’t remember anything of the sorts, but maybe it was because things went down too fast.
— I- I don’t know how he knew. But right before... — He choked. — before the explosion, he pushed me away.
In that moment, George had a thought that he would hate himself for having the rest of his life. “I’m glad that it wasn’t you instead”. The implication that he would rather Percy be dead than Fred made him sick to his stomach (even if some part of him preferred it that way, not knowing what he would do if he ever lost his twin).
In the privacy of his mind he thanked Percy for pushing Fred away, he would always be thankful for that, but he hated that it ended in Percy’s death.
All Ginny could think about was that one time when they were younger, when Percy and her were much closer, before she started spending more times with the twins. That day Percy caught her when she got stuck on top of a tree after using one of his brother’s brooms unsupervised. He looked at her and told her to trust him, and she did, she did and she jumped down trusting his brother would catch her. He did. He snitched on her and she got grounded, but he caught her when she fell.
Bill looked at his younger brother’s face, so calm and so young, he remembers cradling him, when he was really small and used to stick to his side like a barnacle. He loved it, then it annoyed him (when he craved for freedom and to let behind the responsibility of having to parent his siblings). He misses it now. He remembers, when he was still a baby, how his mother let him carry him, sitting on the bed and with his legs crossed he held him in his arms, and felt in awe with this little person that was his new little brother. He promised to love him forever, to protect him.
He seems to have failed on that last one.
Ron looked at Fred, thinking about what he just said. Thinking about how he couldn’t even say goodbye. Thinking about how he had come to this battle knowing he could die, but he never expected one of his brothers to do so. He thought about old memories, when he defended him from the twins jokes, when he read him books on everlasting summer afternoons, when he taught him how to play chess only to be surpassed quickly by a small Ron, happy to be the best at something. Somehow that thought stuck, they hadn’t played chess together for a long time, even long before the fight, before he left, maybe when Percy was on his second year at Hogwarts. Now they could never play chess again.
Molly felt like she would never be happy again, her baby, so young and fragile, so still and quiet in her arms. He had always been like this, always so silent, so accommodating, so eager to help, so brilliant. And lately, so far from her grasp, somewhere she couldn’t reach. But at least, she thought, he was safe. And he came back to them, with apologies from the bottom of his heart, desperate to be forgiven and accepted, speaking like if he didn’t talk fast enough they wouldn’t let him apologize, let him come back.
Oh baby, don’t you know your mother will always forgive you?
Don’t you know your mother will always love you?
And now, she had to bury a family member again. After he had just returned home.
Arthur looked at the body of his third son, and never felt more stupid. In the privacy of his own mind he can admit that he’s a proud man, but he never thought that his ego would get in the way and be one of the reasons of why one of his children left. He knew that he said horrible things, he knew that he should have been more proud of Percy’s accomplishments, he knew he should have expressed his worries later, when they were alone. Why didn’t he? His son left, he was angry and not willing to back down, none of them were (but he was the adult in the situation, he was supposed to know better, wasn’t he?). Then, with time, he reflected to himself and regretted everything, but he never got the opportunity to talk things out when they were both working at the Ministry (he was still too mad then), and then, they had to go into hiding. Now, his son laid dead on the ground, his chest immobile and his eyelids shut, his skin pale and his heart still.
His son apologized, he never did (he would only ever be able to do it to his grave).
All his life Percy had known what he wanted to be. That has been one of the only constants in his chaotic life, his certainty, his determination. He would grab whatever he had set his mind to, leaving claw marks and not letting go. If he said he would do something, he would do it, whether it was becoming prefect or head boy, getting straight O’s on twelve O.W.L’s or N.E.W.T.’s, or getting a job at the Ministry like his father. It would be as true as a the sky, the stars and the moon, as true as whispered promises between siblings in the dark, as the magic that flows through the Earth, as true as the fact that there always would be an explosion.
Percy Weasely loved his family. And he proved it, through one instinctive final act of devotion.
The saddest part is that Percy died not knowing if he managed to keep his promise in the end.