I've always wondered why there are so little Percy Weasley fics, although 4K is a lot. There is also not a lot that necessarily stars Percy, and he is quite an intriguing character. This forst chapter is a bit lengthy, and I feel like I'm rambling at times, but for the timeframe, it doesn't seem comfortable to separate this chapter into two or three, or even to include a separate prolouge. A prologue would make me have to include all thentime between where I'm starting and the BoH, so, yah. Inguess thats all my rambling. Happy Easter and Passover!
-RedWayneHood
It had, in all honestly, started too quickly but lasted too long. He sits in the darkness of his cell, harshly breathing through his nose, staring up at the barely visible stone ceiling. He tears off a piece of his shirt with long, thin, dirty fingers. The shirt is already ragged enough, and he wraps the strip of dirty cloth around his right leg, right above the knee, where a deep wound is. Noises of pain emerge from his throat. If he could pant, he would do so in pain.
He doesn't know how long he has been here for.
From listening, he knows the War is over, that Voldemort is dead, that great, brilliant Harry Potter defeated him. For that, he has let go of anything he held against the boy. He remembers the battle. From everything he has read about war, he knows Battles are the smallest part of war, but the Battle of Hogwarts was a bit disappointing by his quickly it went by. It is also sad that a bloody school is what Voldemort deems as being most dangerous.
When he could still open his mouth, he had laughed manically at this sudden realization. He had given up at that point, at had laughed even through the forty lashes he received.
He closes his eyes, entering darkness that is corrupted by pinpricks of light that isn't light. He puts pressure on the cloth covered wound, his breathing through his nose haggard. He lies down, his bony shoulder ending up in a small area covered with his own blood and piss. He doesn't care anymore. The chains rattle as he curls into a ball, his knee close to his chest as he clutches his leg in pain.
'Remember remember remember' he chants in mind. His face itches around the insufferable metal contraption, and he bangs the thing, thus his face, into the floor, creating a clanging noise and making the healing cuts reopen on his face where the edges of the metal meet the skin on the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.
Hogwarts. Yes, Hogwarts. Remember Professor McGonagall. Remember Dumbledore, who was a great man. Remember Snape, who was cruel to most people but strangely held a soft spot for him. Remember Hermes, that poor poor owl. Remember his mother. Remember father. Remember his quidditch team of a family, and remember YOUR A TRAITOR! His leg feels numb. He feels around. The bleeding has either slowed or stopped.
The collapsing archway. He saved Fred. Oh, Freddy. He remembers seeing the first loose stone tumble, and he can still remember the feeling of his his polished shoes hitting the ground, becoming flecked with dust. Pushing Fred, dear Freddie, out of the way of the fatal archway, his own shoulder getting quickly assaulted stones, bruising and probably breaking a bone or two. He had hissed in pain while Fred had looked at him with wide eyes.
"Perce, you fool" gasped George, looking at his older brother who had been clutching his bleeding shoulder in pain. "You ripped your fancy Ministry coat!" Then, Percy had grinned, retorting that he had told the Minister of Magic himself he had resigned through fits of pain. And, he had added, you were too much of a fool to understand that you were standing beneath a collapsing archway. Mentally, he though better myself than Fred.
They barely held time to talk, or even for the family to reach them, before it was back to War they went.
And then, and then, Percy had made a fool of himself before Fred and a startled Bill, horror on his face, as a Death Eater had jumped at Percy, Apparating him away from the battle, away from Fred who ran into the faint smoke left behind, and Bill looking startled and shocked and with horror written on his face.
A Weasley for a Weasley.
Now, he's here. Wherever here was. And that thought was weeks, more likely months ago. Days filled in this place which he can only describe as a Concentration Camp, filled with people dressed in the rags of whatever they wore when they came. They were mostly muggle-borns, squibs, and the occasional previously defiant pureblood. Percy at least still had his mostly intact Ministry jacket in the corner of his cell, used when he had very serious injuries or if, well, if he needed something sanitary. He never thought he would fall so low, but then again, he's in a Concentration Camp.
The days follow the same schedule. In the morning, when he's lying limp on the floor and shivering, a Death Eater comes in, sometimes gifting him with a Crucio, before giving him a nutrients and hydration spell. One time a day. Rules don't apply for the Crucio, though. It is a bit sad. A curse that he once froze in terror with he now views as being an everyday occurrence. He body always aches, and his shoulder hasn't healed yet, being beaten and tortured as much as he is. He's become numb. Nutrients, Crucio, walk, work, torture, work, torture, work, torture, torture, torture, sleep. Repeat. In a never ending loop. Sometimes, he thinks its a nightmare he will wake up from and he will return to his miserable, depressing, meaningless life. Nope. He's lasted the longest out of anyone, he thinks. And because of that, he's a target of all the Death Eaters. Some of the torture...he doesn't even want to think about it, but it doesn't let him sit properly. His glasses are long gone, the world that is more that twenty feet away is a blob. His hair has grown to nearly touch his shoulders, but his hair grows the quickest out of the family, so it's not a good representation of time. At least he's not growing any facial hair that is more that the stubble on his covered jaw.
When he goes outside, he always looks up, catching a glimpse of the sun above the tree branches. There are talks of almost being discovered, and he flinches at every contact, going to "work" at the stone quarry. He wonders what they need stone for. But then there is, somehow, the occasional small vein of gold, silver, or some other metal ore, as well as specks of gemstones held in the cracks.
"Get up." Says a gruff voice. Percy struggles, quickly getting up, leaning against the stone wall, trying his best to not look injured. The anonymous Death Eater gives him a quick nutrients. Percy feels grateful. The man points his wand and mutters an 'Alahamora' and the chains clink down. He turns around. "Hurry up, Freak." Percy limps as quickly as he could, feeling blood gently trickle down his leg, soaking into his already grimy pants and slicking his bare, cut up feet, his shoes long gone.
"Crucio." Percy writhes in pain, wanting to close his eyes but unable to. The torture lasts for a while, his limbs twisting and aching and burning before he thumps onto the floor, breathing harshly. He was used to this. He knew the routine.
"Crucio." He's lifted off the ground again, his hair whipping in the air as his back arches at an impossible angle. The second time lasts longer than the first, and when he finally lands on the floor with a 'thump'. His lungs ache as he flares his nostrils to try to inhale more air. "Get up, Freak." He doesn't know why the Death Eaters are so intent on calling him "Freak". Perhaps because they never had another ginger in the Camp? Maybe because he was one of the few wizards with glasses, or with his height? Maybe because he's simply a Weasley? Against all odds, Percy stands, following the Death Eater. He's too dazed by the pain to notice where he's going. It's not outside, but into another cell. Even though he's basically blind with anything more than twenty feet away, Percy can tell that the one other people in the room are not friendly, especially if their white robes are a sign. There's a long table with chains on it, and Percy is chained down on it by his waist, shoulder, knees, ankles, wrists, and head. One of the people, wearing goggles and a mask, come to him and hold his eyelids open. Another one is next to a pad of paper with a brown "instant write" quill hovering in the air.
"Hour one, and the subject-" subject: he's an experiment. Even with the newfound knowledge, Percy is already to broken and scared to fight his bonds. If his brothers could see him now. Ron would probably join these people! "-is about to receive substance 'A'. Cullen's holds the subjects eyes open as the two vials are filled with two milliliters of substance." Even though he can't speak, the man, Cullens, puts his hand on the horrid metal thing that covers Percy's mouth and minds his jaw shut. Cullen's applies pressure to the thing, causing Percy to twist his head.
"Williams holds the two vials, lidless." Why does the note taker have to be so precise and so much like a commentary? "He holds them over the subjects eyes, which, at the moment, happen to be a shade of healthy cornflower blue." Percy tries to squeeze his eyes shut as he see's the two vials, though tiny, looking monstrous with their murky content. "Subject struggles, and Williams proceeds to precisely pour the entirety of a single vial into one eye, and the other, respectfully, into the other the other eye." Then the two back off and Percy rapidly blinks, trying to get the liquid out. He only succeeds in holding them in eyes. He stills. His eyes...they don't feel anything. He looks over at the man with the floating quill and then it hits. His back arches and noises erupt in his throat as Percy squeezes his eyes shut, praying that 'mom, dad, Charlie, Bill just find me find me find me FIND ME I'M SORRY!
"Subject shows no signs of any pain or discomfort until approximately eight seconds after application. Subject is trembling and writhing, main source of pain the eyes. Skin around it's eyes show small signs of swelling, but is not serious." After a few minutes, the pain starts to fade, and Percy stills, sweating. He opens his eyes. Wait. Aren't his eyes open. Why can't he see anything?
"Subjects iris's are now a dark shade of blue, and the main coloration of the pupils are grey. Subject, please rapidly blink if you cannot see." Percy blinks rapidly. What did they do? He hears rapid shuffling. Did they not intend to take his sight? Did they do something wrong?
Is he blind?
"Subject will proceed with daily activities without the use of a sense. Subject will be monitored closely as to see if whether substance 'A' has either permanently or temporarily taken away subject sight." Percy is released, and he immediately goes onto his legs, stumbling with his arms out until they feel a wall. He leans against it, breathing heavily. He can hear that the quill scratching has stopped, and that there is small fits of laughs.
"Weasley's make the perfect lab rats."