Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot.
AN: Okay, so, this is just something I found lying about in my folders, so I thought I'd just post it, why not. Now this is really old and I read through it and edited it just a bit and I'm probably rusty as all hell so, yeah, this might not be as good as you or I hope it to be.
(on the subject of my WIP) Oh God you guys I don't know what to say! I haven't written anything in about a year oh God. It's horrific. I'm awful sorry. My muse stole my pen and ran away. Rest assured TAL is not abandoned - I'm hoping to update before June, but I just can't get my drive back... But it's not abandoned. No way, dude, no way.
I'm working (trying to work) on a few other oneshots, plus of course TAL, so I'm really hoping to get back into writing and the fandom soon. Also, I'm always glad to get your feedback and reviews. :)
Still a Lion
Percy Ignatius Weasley had never been much of a Gryffindor.
There was no denying it, he thought; other than perhaps having too much pride, he wasn't brave or courageous or anything, really, right from the start. He'd even heard it from his own siblings once, and not in a very nice manner, either.
Misfit. Outcast. Not a Weasley.
(They'd never really said those particular words, of course, and they probably never would; 'prat' and 'git' were usually the main extent of it—but he could definitely imagine. In his nightmares, in fact, he had.)
So no, Percy Weasley had never been much of a Gryffindor.
Sitting alone in his flat, trying to somehow get away from the Ministry's (Death Eaters) watch every single day, Percy wished he was.
Percy sighed and prodded the wireless again. "Moody?" he asked, tentatively, but there was nothing but static. Of course not, he berated himself. They've used that as a password already.
"McGonagall?" He tried again. "Minerva McGonagall?"
The wireless didn't even buzz.
A noise of frustration escaped his throat. He needed news, real news, damnit, not some stupid pathetic lie about Muggles being scum from You-Know-Who's minions—even Dolores Umbridge had her thoughts in line with the Death Eaters. He should have realized he was wrong since two years ago, when he'd turned his back on his family, only he hadn't and now he was stuck with prejudiced Ministry workers, half of whom were bloody Death Eaters—!
He sucked in a breath, and said, desperately, because he just knew something had happened and this was the only way to find out: "Albus Dumbledore. Gryffindor. Hogwarts, Potter! Come on!"
When still nothing happened, Percy grimaced and sunk in his chair. Right, think… who or what else is important…
"Granger?" he muttered quietly, now fully regretting he had missed the last broadcast. It was rather humiliating, really, having to depend on the twins for information, but in truth, a small part of him felt quite proud of those two for having the gall to do it.
Not that he'd ever admit to such a thing.
"Phoenix," he started again, rattling off any name that would make sense. "Ginevra. Lily, James, Harry. Remus Lupin, Tonks, McKinnon, uh... Flitwick. Er—" He stopped.
"Weasley?"
To Percy's amazement, the wireless gave a buzz and a click, like a safe being opened. Percy almost laughed. His last name—it was that simple?
He kept back a grin and tried to listen to the report.
"Hello? Ah, yeah, we're on air, finally, thank Merlin. Right, this is River, and we're on a tight schedule right now—have to get moving in about half an hour, actually—but we've heard of some positively crazy-but-may-be-true rumours coming 'long—"
The codename still seemed glaringly obvious to Percy; after hearing the commentator's voice all those years, recognized Lee Jordan's loud voice quite clearly. But then, that was Lee and the twins, taking riskiness to a new extreme.
Another voice—a horribly familiar voice—had cut through: "Cut to the chase, River, no time now!" And Fred's face, with the mischievous glint in his eyes that often preceded a very dangerous prank—he knew it was Fred speaking, he could tell—flashed into Percy's head. "Right, Rapier here, and we know we're sounding pretty abrupt, and we don't know the details yet exactly, but the thing is—"
"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley have broken into Gringrotts—" interrupted George, sounding positively ecstatic; Percy could already see him grinning. He barely noticed the words spoken.
"And escaped on a ruddy dragon!" finished Fred, and Percy's heart clenched with just the tiniest bit of guilt—he had forgotten they had used to talk like that, in pairs…
"Now, we know that all this sounds positively preposterous," said George, and suddenly his tone was so suddenly serious Percy could have just imagined it, "but it's pretty true. Hundred percent, cross my heart."
"Best feat of the year!" said Lee Jordan; Percy blinked, and suddenly the news hit him for the first time—his youngest brother had broken into one of the most guarded places in the world, with Harry and Hermione—how—why—
The twins and Lee obviously did not share the same sentiments of worry and disbelief.
"Even beats ambushing the Ministry!" crowed George, glee evident in his voice.
"The goblins will be stoked!" agreed Fred. "Now, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, if you ever hear this—"
"Though they probably can't listen this time," said Lee, "y'know, what with just having to escape from Gringrotts—"
"You're all brilliant!" George said. "Classic, really! You've done the impossible! We've no idea what you're up to, but—"
"We'll just take it as a bit of a message, and we know you're doing all you can to bring the Chief Death Eater down, so thanks very much, and our thoughts shall always go with you."
And then Percy's shock turned to amazement, and then laughter as well, and, quite unbelievably, pride—
"That's really all that's happened thus far, nothing horrible, which is both good and bad, because it's really far too quiet—"
"So now we get the feeling this is all about to blow up—"
"Because honestly, how much longer is this going to take?"
"There you have it, folks," said Lee Jordan, snorting, "In the words of Rapier and Rodent themselves"—he ignored George's annoyed grunt at his codename, while Fred let out an almost inaudible snigger at his brother—"We think that lightning is about to strike, any time now."
"So get ready," added George in a low voice, "because when he does—"
"The Chief Death Eater is going to strike back!"
"So—"
"Stay safe, and—"
"Support Harry Potter!"
But Percy barely heard their ending lines; he grabbed his cloak and wand and ran out of his flat, not even bothering to turn the wireless off. Lightning is about to strike—Percy was never one for Divination, but even he knew that this was more than instinct, or just a feeling. This was a message. A warning. And he had to do something—he had to act, get out of here while he could—
He had to find his family.
He did know they were in hiding, but maybe he could find them, get into contact with another Order member, break through the wards somehow—he was a family member as well, after all… Vaguely, a cruel little voice in his head told him they wouldn't take him back, not after all the things he'd said and done; he ignored it. He had to, because if he didn't then there'd be nothing left.
He walked briskly down the road, trying not to look like he was running away. He could feel his heart in his throat and was surprised no Death Eaters heard it too and attacked him. There was an Anti-Apparition charm plus a Caterwauling alert, there was on the whole street, but he knew a place the magic hadn't covered. He did not dare look back on the posters plastering the walls; of Harry Potter, Undesirable Number One, who was a close friend of the family he had left…
He had not believed any of it. Maybe he'd called Harry a liar once, for no good reason at all, and maybe he'd even left his own family for it, too, but he knew where the line was drawn, he knew Harry, the steadfast fighter, the small twelve-year-old who had saved his sister. And if he'd ever been blind—well, not anymore.
He had reached the Apparition point, the crack in the ward. Nobody else had known about it. He cast a single glance around for anyone watching; there was none. Perhaps he would start search at the Burrow. It seemed impossible they would be there, it was probably heavily warded, it would be too obvious—but he had to start somewhere. He'd Apparate somewhere close to the Burrow, not directly in front of it. He'd be careful. And if he found nothing, he leave for Hogwarts. It was the next best thing.
He swallowed, and for a second, he simply stood there, trying to breathe right. His teeth were chattering, and not from cold. He had to clench his fist to hold his wand without it shaking. He exhaled.
Percy Weasley had never been much of a Gryffindor, he told himself, but with luck, and Gryffindors thrived on luck—
He would be enough.
Percy shut his eyes and spun on the spot.