Disclaimer: not mine.
Written for QLFC, round 9
Team: Ballycastle Bats
Position: Chaser 2
Task: write something inspired by The Lion King. I chose the scene where Simba decides to come back and face Scar.
Optional prompts:
(restriction) No dialogue
(restriction) Exactly three characters must feature
(object) a broken wand
Word count (without A/Ns): 938
Warning: AU. Percy's return reinterpreted and rewritten. In this story, he never fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, never got the chance to reconcile with his family.
When the Weasleys return to the Burrow, Percy is still missing. None's heard from him.
Very slowly, the hooded figure kept putting one foot in front of the other, each step wearier than the previous one. On the ground, the dead leaves creaked under his weight, breaking the silence, making him cringe in fear. He looked around, almost expecting to have everyone's eyes on him, but none was in sight, which made his labored breath easier. Not that anyone could recognize him anyway. His face was hidden under a dark hood, and his clothes were neutral, giving away nothing about his family or his people. He himself wasn't sure about his identity anymore. Sure, he knew his name was Percy Ignatius Weather—Weasley, but those were only words, hollow and meaningless.
At each step, a piece of his past was left behind: pain, guilt, regret... Bad things had happened. He had just turned his back on the world, hoping his burden would be lighter. He was wrong. The present weighed—a lot; almost too much for him to carry it—while the future and the unknown were mixing together frightening him.
A furtive tear appeared in his eyes and made its way down his cheek. Many others followed, abandoning that ungrateful body that had denied them for so long, until every energy and spirit were gone. He lifted up a hand to stop them, to prevent his soul—which perhaps he didn't even deserve—to escape from his eyes under the disguise of innocent, salty water.
His eyes met the object he had forgotten he was still holding: a broken wand. His own. He had broken it himself, angry at himself. People had died because of him and his disbelief. He certainly couldn't be a wizard anymore, so he had punished himself in the only way he knew and left with nowhere to go.
He swished his useless wand that provided some red sparks while minute pieces from the magical stick floated and fell at his feet. He managed to spot so many memories in those shattered shrapnels tumbling to the ground in a strange cacophony of sounds that he felt overwhelmed.
His past was coming back to him all at once, and it hurt. Yet, that pain promised peace too. The invitation was almost irresistible. Almost. He still didn't feel like going home.
Some unknown power made him go to his knees, exhausted, while the wind was kicking up a puff of dust. When it disappeared, he was left with a picture in his hand: the Burrow. It brought some last, needed memories to his mind, the ones which would allow him to truly look inside himself.
°o°o°o°o°o°o°
Smell of soft cheese from the kitchen.
Yellow sun rays.
Rhythmic thuds from the garage.
His mother's hens clucking.
The Burrow.
°o°o°o°o°o°o°
At the end of their playful tussle, Percy found himself lying on the ground, Ginny over him, smiling, proud of having pinned her older brother. Again.
He exasperatedly sighed; his annoyance, however, lasted but a mere moment. It had always happened, and he had just got used to it now. Still, it could be hard sometimes; she was his little Ginevra and was not supposed to be as bad as a tomboy. It was also fine, though. She needed to know how to protect herself, and it was his duty and pleasure to show her.
Trying to get back some of his dignity and, most importantly, revenge, he got up and brushed his robe. Then, he picked his lively sister up and started tickling her, making her squeal in delight, while discreetly checking on his wand. He was quite proud of it and never allowed anyone to touch it, always bringing it with him.
Ginny, noticing his lack of attention, escaped from his arms and jumped at him, ending on top and pinning him. Again. Her laughter resonated everywhere in the Burrow.
Neither of them noticed that the thuds coming from the garage had ceased.
A moment later, they were both engulfed by Arthur's strong arms. He'd never miss the chance to spend time with his children, especially if they were causing some mayhem. And... rolling on the floor? That was exactly what he needed after working with pompous and boring people all the day.
With a loud cry, the three of them started tussling again, Arthur careful not to crush them, Percy forgetting to eye his wand for once, and Ginny having the time of her life.
Percy knew their father was their friend and would never leave them. He knew, at that time, the meaning and importance of family. And he had sworn on his wand, sworn that he would always be there for them.
°o°o°o°o°o°o°
Smell of sweet cakes from the kitchen.
Red roof.
Laughter from the garden.
The dawn and the first cockcrow.
In one word, home.
°o°o°o°o°o°o°
He didn't even know if it was a memory or a preview, but he didn't care. In that moment, he felt like loving everything; he wished he could already be home, de-gnoming.
Absent-mindedly caressing his broken wand, Percy smiled and removed his hood, no more hiding or denying his red hair, his Weasley hair.
Never again would he forget himself. Never again would he run from his past. He would always learn from it, starting from now.
He was a brother and a son, not a mere anyone working at the Ministry. He couldn't deny it any longer.
He stood up, his jaw set, ready to take his place in his family again.
In the distance, the hand of the Weasley Clock which represented Percy was slowly moving from 'Lost' to 'Travelling', and Ginny, noticing it, finally allowed herself to hope again, a smile spreading on her face. She soon would have a brother to pin again.
