Title: Repentance

Challenge/Prompt: Written for as the Chudley Cannons' Reserve Chaser 1 for season 2, round 6 of the Quidditch League Competition (Write a letter to a parent/guardian).

Rating: T (for language, nothing else)

Word Count: about 1100

Characters: Percy Weasley, and an implied Molly and Arthur Weasley.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is in no way connected to the author of Harry Potter, JK Rowling. Harry Potter is owned by her, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning(s): OOC? Probs. I has no idea. I'm sorry. I can't even tell if some of this is canon compliant. Sorry.

Dear Mum and Dad,

It's me, Percy, if you couldn't tell already. How are you? I am doing okay.

Okay, just. No, no. That's not right, at all. Let me start over, okay? I'm not even going to scratch it out.

It's me, Percy, and I am sorry. I am so sorry. Mum, Dad, words cannot even begin to describe how deeply and truly sorry I am. Or capable of being. I never thought I would regret anything as deeply as I do now, but this... this just tops it all.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't known that the Ministry was so corrupted. From Dad's tales of disappointments and dirty looks or even manipulations and rumours of under-the-table deals, I didn't go in blind and stupid. I knew I was potentially signing up for something dangerous, but I still did it. Why? Because I'm too ambitious and pig-headed and stubborn for my own bloody good. I thought it would be all fine. I had this high hope that I would advance quickly and carefully through my various positions, scaling the ladder until I reached the highest of the high. And I did. I'm not ashamed to say that I was very proud of myself at the time.

But then again, it hadn't really been anything I was expecting either. I pictured the glitz and glamour, my role as a secretary for a powerful politician, a high-paying salary, and something to, admittedly, brag about as freely as Charlie, with his eyes bright with stories of his latest escapades and feats with the dragons he tames, and Bill with his exciting career as a curse-breaker. I had wanted to be the star of the family, a shining example, rising above minimum wage and long, back-breaking hours for a meager five galleons at the end of the week.

I wanted to be better than you, Dad.

My change in heart hadn't been an overnight decision. It has taken me a lot of time to deal with myself and my actions, to reexamine what I want in life, and my goals. It had taken a long, long time. And you know what was the tipping point?

Several months ago, one of my friends was taken into custody for an entire day - twenty-four hours, to the last second - and not allowed to eat, drink, or sleep through that time. At the time, I hadn't known it was him. I just knew that what was occurring was a grievous misuse of power, and unfair treatment of a wizard who had only been brought in for questions. Later on, I found out the ugly truth of the matter: the only reason he had been taken was because of his blood status, of all things; he was Muggle-born.

And while that was certainly not the only reason why I decided to stop playing dumb, it was, by far, the one that affected me most at the time because the Ministry for Magic is supposed to be "a government establishment for the betterment of the wizards and witches of the wizarding world", not one that virtually forces ordinary, nondescript wizards and witches into interrogation rooms for long and drawn out questions, from "How did you get the wand?" to the more ridiculous, "Do you have any proof at all that you aren't secretly of pure-blood lineage?"

I would laugh if it didn't make me sick to my stomach. I would've never thought it was possible to do so, having survived in a house with F-George, but it had happened at the time.

And you're probably asking, even if it's unconsciously, why did you stay with the Ministry, Percy? Why didn't you come back to us?

Is it ironic that I felt myself "morally bound" to stay with the Ministry for Magic? Mum, Dad, I know it sounds like an idiotic reason, something I still can't wrap my own head around sometimes, but I had already pledged my loyalty to the Ministry. How was I to leave? Not only that, but I had already made a, excuse my language, huge ass out of myself when I had attacked everyone one by one. I steadily grew more and more distant from you lot, until we were eventually estranged from the other. I still don't know how I'm going to ever make it up to Potter.

Potter.

I had been very jealous of him, at the time. Not of him as a person, but what he represented: a child who wasn't ambitious, who wasn't always held down by his limitations, and who had a seat at our table from the get-go. I still don't understand how he so quickly snuck his way into your hearts; you liked F-... Fred and George's friend well enough, but you never did what you did for Potter.

But, I digress. This isn't about that. This letter is about the things that eventually dominoed into this letter of repentance. Of apology. Of a need for forgiveness.

You know, if I could've, I would've snuck whatever I could into those interrogation rooms; even I'm not morally bankrupt enough to allow something borderline torture to continue if I'm fully capable of stopping it. It would never sit right with me, and it still doesn't. I had felt powerless enough; to know that I had my own, albeit ignorant, hand within the mess... it only made me angrier. I'm not sure if I was even at the best mindset possible to sit down and talk to you, let alone go home and not drink myself into a stupor.

But I know that apologies are just words, especially so as they flow from this quill; forgiveness is but a two-way street, and does nothing to restore what was or had been. In order to make proper amends, I decided I needed to see the both of you, at home. Alone.

As I write this letter, please understand that my bloody huge pride is taking quite the beating. I don't think I could handle being around everyone else, knowing that a lot of what could've been prevented was my fault. It's going to be dented severely by the time this entire debacle ends. If it ends.

And Mum, Dad?

I never stopped loving you, even after everything I put you through. I still love you.

Your son,

Percival Weasley

Author's Note:

I randomly said, "Oh, hey, how about write about Percy?"

I'm sorry. I feel like this was everywhere and nowhere, all at once. Hopefully, I managed to, at the very least, write something believeable, but I doubt it. This is the one Weasley not many people in the fics I read write about.

And if any of this isn't canonically true, then I'm sorry, too XD