Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. N.E.R.D. owns the song "Jump." N.E.R.D.? Yes, that N.E.R.D. Give it a chance.
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Jump
Hello?
Hey mom, it's me mom
Can't tell you where I sleep mom
Cause that's where we be mom
Sometimes I steal and cheat mom
Yes, I get enough to eat mom
Mom, can you listen to me?
No! I don't mess with guns
Yes, in my travels I have seen one
No, being a runaway is no fun
But house rules sure were not fun
Something told me to-
Jump!, but Percy staggered back from the ledge, his hands groping about fretfully for the groove of the stone pillar behind him. He shut his eyes to breathe, then steadily opened them again, venturing a glance at the city below.
Oh God.
Percy never did like heights. Sure, he was fine staring down upon the world out of the window in his flat, but here, standing precariously on a ledge six hundred meters above the ground? He was petrified. That was one of the reasons why he never got into quidditch, like the rest of his siblings did. That was also why he made sure to pass that apparation exam at the earliest possible opportunity, so he wouldn't have to ride that wretched broomstick any longer when floo powder wasn't at hand. Soaring in and out of the clouds, even while perched on a "perfectly safe" broomstick, was not something that Percy particularly enjoyed.
So why on earth was he here, using a method of suicide that scared him stiff? Was he trying to prove something to himself, trying to prove that somewhere inside he was brave?
Was he trying to prove that the Gryffindor inside only emerged in death?
And I don't care now
Cause we don't get out
I packed my things now
I'm checking out…
Or perhaps it was something else. He suddenly realized that he was, for the first time in his life, going against convention, against those standards he had so laboriously worked to uphold for the past nineteen years. Really, why couldn't he take his own life by a poison, or some simple draught? Or "avada kedavra" even, quick and painless. With his intellect, it probably wouldn't be that hard to learn. Why did he insist on taking the muggle way out?
Oh God.
"The muggle way." Those were the words. The painful reminder of his Yuletide sin of omission. He wondered if, when they found his body, they would notice this fact the way he did; using a "muggle" method to kill himself, perhaps interpreting it as some sadistic message to his father. He certainly didn't mean it that way.
Hey dad, okay dad,
That's what you say dad
I never could obey dad…
No, he supposed that he never could admire his father as much as he did men like Crouch or Fudge. And it was only for the reason that they were authority figures, high brass in the ministry, while his father was on a lower rung, the highest of his duties being maintaining regulations and such.
Trivial matters like those weren't enough for Percy. So accordingly, he had gone and forsaken the loyalty and affection of his family for aspirations to obtain the zenith of dreams: authority, power, control. To him, that was true perfection. It had forever been his desire to follow, emulate, become…the men who barely knew his name. The vainglorious, disillusioned men who never should have been blessed with any admirer such as he. Percy emulated the two perfectly, turning his back on everyone in his personal life: his family, his friends, Penelope—just like his hero Crouch did. Percy even got to run the damn department too, for a while, though had he not been so intoxicated on the stimulant of power, he probably would have caught what was going on with the man.
And did he learn his lesson after Crouch? Of course not. The former head boy who finished at the top of his class at Hogwarts was insistent on standing firm in his blind loyalty to the Ministry. Especially after Fudge had apparently taken Percy under his "wing." Percy saw Fudge as more "psychologically" stable—after all, if a man's risen to the rank of Minister of Magic without any problems on the way up, then he's definitely got to be sane and rational, right? Well…at least more so than Crouch. Otherwise, Percy finally acknowledged, the man was delusional. Yes, he had doubted the man before, but really, if he was the damn Minister of Magic, he had to know what he was doing…right?
God…Was he really that much of a git? Was he so blindly faithful in the Ministry that he believed its chiefs to be absolutely infallible?
Tell my ex-girlfriend I'm trying
And her new boyfriend I'd fight him
And what about my siblings?
Tell em that I love em
I'm not perfect nor facetious
But at home I've felt seedless
Your son completely hateless
Turn to BBC you should see this
About the kid…
So that was it. Percy Weasley stood on that ledge, ready to jump out into the London sky and into death's arms…because he had failed. Because he had paid such a high price in his devotion to the Ministry and finally realized that they were wrong. The system, his valued system, was wrong, and the dissenters were right. He had been such an idealistic young man before, but now…he was disillusioned, robbed of a dream because it wasn't right to pursue. When the motivation for every single thing you did turned out to be false, there was nothing left.
But that didn't mean Percy wasn't terrified of jumping. He truly couldn't bring himself to do it. Being victimized by the twins and one of their rubber wand gags or dungbombs was sufferable, compared to-to…to flinging yourself off of an office building and having to endure those eight seconds of absolute, full-out terror before colliding with the ground in a blur of gory pain. And so what if it lasted only a second or two? The mere prospect of the whole thing was enough to-to…well, go ahead and…
And I don't care now
Cause we don't get out
I packed my things now
I'm checking out…
"No!" Percy shouted, retreating from his precarious perch. He stood a few feet away now, moved closer, and stared straight down upon the city, never permitting himself to look away. His hands trembled, his eyes widened, his breathing quickened. But he wouldn't move. And finally, when he knew that he wouldn't revert back to weakness, to petty indecisiveness, he looked away, turned and started walking towards the stair. He wasn't off to find a poison, or a lethal curse, or even someone who would do the service for him. He was off to go live.
Because he now knew why he had initially wanted to jump his way out of this situation. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere within his subconscious, he knew he wouldn't do it. He was far too petrified of the height to ever go through with it. And more importantly, he couldn't let himself do it. Part of him desperately, impulsively sought death, but the rest of him just couldn't. Because he knew he had parents and siblings and a girlfriend to apologize to, and problems to set right. And in order to do that, he had to first stop himself, and then realize it.
And so the next day Percy did not return to the Ministry, nor did he return the next day, or the day after. He returned to the Burrow, that familiar place where his first dreams had sprung and blossomed. Because he knew something more awaited him there, something more for him to follow the rest of his life.
Don't let your teachers teach you about wealth to death
Maybe there's something else
Don't let Master teach you that we are by ourselves
Cause trust me there's something else…
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Author's note: I always thought that I would never go through with writing a HP fic, because I'm just not imaginative enough w/ a fandom like this. But lo and behold, here it is. And it wasn't that hard either (caffeine induced inspiration helps). Though, if it existed, I would nominate this fic for strangest song used in a songfic ever. Seriously. If you heard "Jump," you would never ever figure it as a song fitting a Harry Potter fic. For cryin out loud, Joel and Benji Madden from Good Charlotte guest on that track! Not to diss them or anything, but still. Anyhoo, review or flame or whatever you'd like, and tell me how I did.
