Title: Remembrance
Author: The Angelic Vampire
Fandom: Harry Potter
Character: Percy
Summary: Percy remembers a lot of things. The difference of perspective can make or break lives.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: slight spoilers, if you squint.
A/N: first Percy ficlit
Traitor.
Unworthy.
No child of mine.
Percy closed his eyes as he remembered the words his family had slung to his head. He hadn't known that Voldemort was back and he hadn't wanted to believe them. He had done the departmental research to see if anything was true, however, and he had found nothing.
Of course, that might have had to do with the fact that Fudge had muffled away the evidence, but he still had tried.
He had tried hard, he'd only been set on a wild goose chase. What had they expected him to do? Find nothing and still proclaim to the wizarding world that Voldemort had indeed returned after the Triwizard Championship. He had been more afraid that Harry Potter had been in some way responsible for Diggory's death at the time, as well as the boy's proximity to his family.
Not that any effort or worry on his part was good enough in the eyes of his family. All his life he had been less then adequate when it come to being a Weasley.
He wasn't adventurous enough, he was too reserved for his siblings, he loved learning and books over Quidditch.
His mother had relied on him to act as a third parent to his younger brothers and sister, even when Bill and Charlie still lived in the house with them. During the first rise of Voldemort's reign, he'd been responsible for keeping his younger siblings safe when his two older brothers were at Hogwarts. He'd been the one to peer outside the window to look for dark cloaks, white masks and green light. He'd been the one to hush the twins and rock the baby as his mother caressed her swollen abdomen, where his baby sister waited for a peace that wouldn't come. He'd been the one to love them until it hurt so much, he wished he could bleed it out of himself at times.
He'd never been good enough to any of them. He gave and he gave and he gave, but they never returned any of the love he felt for them.
He could remember reports of his sister's demise and the responsibility of having to send a letter to his parents. The agony tearing him apart as he grieved alone. He could remember Ron, pale and wet breaking the surface of the lake. Terror coursing through his veins as his mind chanted 'too deep, too deep' Rushing in the lake, dragging him out, not caring one whit about dignity. He remembered looking the other way when the twins experimented with their inventions and played their pranks. He remembered.
They remembered a prissy, unworthy son and brother, traitor to their cause. They remembered the son who didn't believe every word they said; or helped them in Ministry defying, Azkaban-warranted rogue operations.
They might have had a better time of convincing him of the truth, if they'd actually involved them in their family life. Now that the war was fully on, there was no need for secrecy about who were the main supporters of the Phoenix' cause.
To find out that all his siblings and his parents were part of the order was like a paradigm shift. They thought him to be unworthy, a traitor because of his unwillingness. But they had never offered him the same information they had each other, nor the same proof. He had never been invited to join this Order, and they never thought him worthy of such membership.
Yet they still expected him to act as if he had the same knowledge as them. They despised him because they saw blood kin, unwilling to stand beside them in their cause. They saw blood averse to protect blood.
Maybe he should remind them that they never stood by him.
Maybe he shouldn't, because some part of him knows that they never will.
The End.
A/N:
Hope you liked it.