AN: Written for Static Lull's Half-baked Challenge.


It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

Percy sat in his little apartment listening to the radio, to his brothers' voices. Listening as they talked about everything, as they remained so hopeful. Why were they so full of hope, so sure that everything was going to get better? How could they even be hopeful when Percy was sitting in his apartment ready to die?

Penny was gone, dead or worse, and she was never coming back. Never ever.

His stomach twisted into knots; it hurt too much to even sit up. Percy curled into fetal position on the floor, his ear next to the radio. He willed it to say that Penny was safe, that she escaped, that Percy wasn't useless. But he was.

He was going to die alone, lying on his floor, surrounded by bottles of alcohol. He was a failure.

"…managed to escape and is currently on the run."

Percy sat up as fast as he could and stared at the radio. Say it was Penny, say it was Penny, say it was Penny.

"Good thing Mr. Thomas managed to get out of there. He's too young …"

Percy felt the cold, gnawing feeling returning, but he tried to push it away. There were other people out there, that weren't Penny. There were kids out there Ron's age, some even younger, who were being killed.

He'd do this for Penelope, for Dean Thomas, for every other muggleborn out there.

Percy took out his pen and started to draft a family tree. He wouldn't be able to save everybody, but he could try.

It's what Penny would have wanted.


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