Home

Title: “Home”
Author: hellfire
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, and at times, I think that it owns me.
Warnings: Dark, dark themes here people. Character death, angst, and crying for mommy abound here.
Pairing: n/a
Distribution: Want it? Take it, just let me know where.
Beta: none at all… cause I didn’t want to inflicis ois on one
Inspiration: Tina, who should have known better than to go boating with drunks at night. Shock can only protect you from so much before it starts to sink in that someone you care about is gone and not coming back. Ever.
Author’s Notes: Damn you Tina for going so soon, and damn me for caring so very fucking much. Readers, if there’s someone out there that you love, let them know. Now, before it’s too late, and they’re gone. Cheesy, but oh so true, damn her.



Later, thinking back, he realizes that he wasn’t supposed to know about it as soon as he did. He thinks that they perhaps meant to hide it from him for a while, just long enough to clean it up and make it less real for when he finally did hear about it. But it didn’t work; he heard Smythe and Wilson talking about it excitedly in hushed tones on their way down the hall. Hatheather’s name caught his ear, and then “Are you certain? The whole family? Has Weasley been told yet?” The conversation grew faint as they walked further down the hall, but the words stayed in Percy’s head.

“The whole family?” he wondered crossly, wondering what his family had done now to embarrass themselves, and in turn, him. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to distance himself enough from his family’s antics. Scowling, he figured that he’d hear all of it soon enough, and went back to work.

His report was interrupted again, mere moments later, by an owl whizzing by and dropping a letter onto his head. Frowning at the creature’s clumsiness, Percy opened it efficiently with a quick pull of his letter opener. “Percy!” Bill’s angular, slightly slanted handwriting identified the letter’s author at once. “Whatever you do, don’t go to the Burrow. If you’ve got this, it means that the Burrow isn’t safe anymore. Stay at the Ministry. If you need anything, contact Auror S. Kingsley, he’ll be able to help you far better than we can now. I love you, Percy. We all do. Love, Bill”.

Percy stared at the letter in confusion, as though waiting for further clarification. Why on earth would he want to go to the Burrow anyways? He’d long since cut ties with his Muggle loving father, and had yet to see a need to repair them. Rereading it, the implications of the overheard conversation hit him, and harlyarly dropped the letter. Breathing deeply, he folded it carefully before placing it in his trouser pocket. Grabbing his wand, he shut his eyes, and apparated home.

The Burrow was a mass of confusion; Aurors were everywhere, as well as some wizards that looked to be Unspeakables. People were arriving and leaving hurriedly and unexpectedly. Percy barely noticed any of them; he was too busy being mesmerized by the Dark Mark floating eerily in the sky above his childhood home.

“You there! You!” Percy distantly heard a man shouting in the background but paid no attention until the shouter grabbed his arm. “This isn’t a free show! Why don’t you go away and have some respect for the-” The man’s voice trailed off as he took in the shabby robes and red hair. Considering the location, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. Starting over, he gruffly began “What I mean, son, is that perhaps you should-”
It was another statement that he never got to finish; Percy shook him off roughly and ran for the open kitchen door, ignoring the man’s shouts.

His mum would never leave the door open like that; she said it invited unwanted pests. And da would hate all of these people around; didn’t they understand that Arthur worked hard, and needed time to rest when he got off work? Besides, he always said that he preferred spending time with his wife and children to spending time at the office. It was one of the reasons they were so damned poor.

Where were his brothers and sister? It was the middle of summer; they should all be home, even Bill and Charlie. The whole family had been making it a point to come home and all be together at least once a year. All of the family except for him, Percy. He’d been too busy working, trying to distance himself from his family’s reputation as poor and eccentric. And now… Where were they?

He glanced hurriedly around the kitchen; why had his mother left everything on the table? In fact, there was even some food on the floor. Disgusting. Poor she may be, but Molly Weasley was always a stickler for cleanliness. Waving his wand at the mess, he quickly removed the spilled food and up righted the overturned chairs. Odd that his family would leave furniture lying around like that. Then again, they were the twins’ cha so so anything was possible.

Making his way into the living room, he was so used to how it should look that it took him a moment to realize that red liquid was not usually on the walls, especially in big splattlikelike the one that currently decorated the wall with all of the family pictures on it. None of the photograph people could be seen, but it seemed to Percy as though he could almost hear weeping in the background. That was silly. It was probably just part of a p by by Fred and George, and Mum was going to be very upset when she saw it. As was Ginny, ever since the incident in her first year she had been very upset at the sight of blood, especially in large amounts.

Thoughts of sister led Percy upstairs to her room. A grim-faced witch barred his way in. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is a closed site. I’m afraid that you will not be allowed in. Sir? Do you hear me?” Percy ignored her shrill voice. He could see over her shoulder what she was trying to hide from him; the twins had continued their prank up here in Ginny’s room. It was even on her stuffed animals, and her collection of glass animals. Funny, the pictures in here were hiding too. The twins were really going to be in trouble over this one; they’d finally done something serious enough to warrant Ministry attention. His er wer would probably lose his job over this.

Percy fixed his best condescending stare on the woman before him. “Miss, I assure you, that whatever the twins have done this time, it is most likely not nearly important enough to warrant this much Ministry attention. Really, if you think about it, I’m sure that no matter what substance it is they’ve sprayed on the walls, my mother is more than capable of cleaning it off without Ministry help. Now then, if you don’t mind?” With that, Percy insinuated his way betweer anr and the wall, and slipped into his sister’s room, only to stop and stare helplessly, the shock that had been protecting him leaving him as suddenly as it had come.

The formerly pristine white walls were now flecked with blood and bits of gore. The curtains were swaying forlornly in the breeze from the open window. Ginny’s stuffed animals were literally soaked in blood; it looked as though someone had dipped them into a vat of the stuff. And on the bed…

Percy stumbled out of the room, hands over his face. He hadn’t- No. He crashed into the wall and landed on his knees, still hiding his face. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. His baby sister, Ginny, legs spread, thighs bloody, naked, splattered with blood and with a look of agony etched upon her face? The tears on her cheeks still glistening, as though she had just wept them? No… not real. Not real. Percy heard someone keening high in their throat, interspersed with broken moans. He didn’t realize the noises were coming from him until he also realized that the grim lady was holding him, murmuring softly in his ear.

“There’s nothing you can do now. She’s gone. There’s nothing left for you to do. Shh….” She rocked him back and forth as though he were a baby, whispering to him softly. Eventually, his cryingwed wed down enough for him to ask her about the rest of his family. “Where are they?” he asked huskily, voice breaking. When she looked away from him, that was answer enough.

Gasping for air, Percy pushed himself to his feet, aided by the witch who no longer looked only grim, but concerned as well. “Where are they?” he rasped out, his throat swollen with tears. “I don’t think that you should-” she began, only to be cut off by Percy’s screams. “Where is my family? Where are the twins? Where are Bill and Charlie? Where’s Ron? Where are my parents? Where is my Mum?” The last inquiry came out as a wail, the cry of a lost child searching for desperately for the familiar comfort of his mother’s arms.

“They are gone, Percy.” From behind him came the dry tones of his old Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. “Voldemort’s Death Eaters came this evening, to set an example for other families that may think to oppose him.” Percy shook his head helplessly, tears stag upg up again anew. His whole family. Gone, just like that. Dead. Deceased. Gone.

He barely registered a flask being placed to his lips, drank before he thought about it.
As the cool embrace of sleep crept over him, he fought against it long enough to reach into his pocket and pull out Bill’s letter, and hold it close to his heart, like a security blanket.

When he awoke, he was in his apartment in Diagon Alley. The lights were low, and he could hear the sound of voices coming from the living area. Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling as the memories came flooding back to him. ‘They are gone, Perkeptkept running through his head. Ignoring the people that were surely waiting for him, he turned to his side and curled up into a ball, the way he had done as a child when sleeping with his brothers.

Taking a deep breath, Percy let the memories come back to him, the good ones and the bad. The twins, sending him dragon dung. The time his parents had surprised them all an an impromptu party, just for fun. Ginny, coming to him crying because of something the twins had done to her. His parents, always hugging them, loving them. He played with the memories in his head, drawing them out, analyzing every expression, every glance and smile.
He remembered how excited Ron had been when Mum had bought him that atrocious Chudley Cannons comforter set; it had been Ron’s eighth birthday, and with the oldest two out of the house, there had finally been some money for things like that. Not much, but a little. Ron had gotten the new stuff first because it was his birthday, but none of the others had minded at all. His face had lit up in a huge gri he he started yelling out how great it was. They had all been excited for him, just because he was so excited. It was just like when he, Percy, had made prefect; they had been excited for him, and his mother, his biggest fan, had bought him Hermes as a reward.
And now? The Cannons had one less fan, and Percy had no fans left at all. Sobbing, he continued poring his his memories, ignoring everything else around him until something hit him lightly in the head. Rubbing his swollen eyes, he reached for it clumsily, opening it with reluctant fingers.
“Weasley”, it started out in unfamiliar spiky handwriting. “Although we missed you when we called at your parents’ hovel, we decided that without your fellow weasels you may feenelynely, so we’ve decided to put you out of your misery. By the time you finish reading this,” and here, Percy had to blink, as the words were becoming increasingly blurry, “You will be well on your way to joining the rest of your Muggle loving family.”
Percy wasn’t surprised at all that the scrap of parchment burst into green flames the moment he read the last word. He was too busy listening to his mother’s voice as she called him home for supper to worry about anything so inconsequential as burning paper that wouldn’t leave a mark behind.
He was going home.


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