Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not J K Rowling.A/N – This is a very long, angsty character study of Percy Weasley.

AU – not compliant with the seventh book. I wrote this a while ago and recently dredged it up from my plans for my own version of book Seven, which I haven't gotten around to writing yet. It's rambling at the end, but I enjoyed writing it, so…

Enjoy reading!

So Sacrifice Yourself

"…Is it over yet? I can't win…

This will all be over soon

Pour salt into an open wound

Is it over yet? Let me in…

So sacrifice yourself…"

– "Breathe" – Breaking Benjamin –

Names.

A name can have multiple meanings: some that are known only to the user and some much more widely known.

But they never tell the whole story, do they?

What does one hear think when they hear the name 'Percy Weasley?' The most common thing that comes to mind is what I did nearly two years ago, something that nearly everyone knows throughout the Ministry of Magic. And they praised me for it at first, and then they praised my desire to go far in life after that passed.

Percy Weasley. One might think immediately of status: the third-oldest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. The Weasley who went astray from the Gryffindor path. The one who left the flock in anger and resentment because his parents and family supported Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, the two who told of the second coming of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – otherwise known as Voldemort.

Now, many may think that this Percy Weasley is an arrogant, absolute prat and I can't say that I'd deny it. I have been one.

But I've always been one, haven't I?

It was just a part of who I was, apparently, according to various family members and what they say of me now.

Our family is large – seven children, two parents, and then whoever Mother considered family and enfolded in the warmth and love that I knew as home. Yet somehow, I always felt stuck as the middle child.

The classic middle child syndrome: lost in the chaos. Overlooked. Plenty of resentful feelings sprung up from those misconceptions – and I can't say they've gotten any better now.

Bill was undoubtedly cool. He was the protector, the one who watched over all of us and took up the slack whenever things got bad in the First War and our parents were greatly troubled by what was going on outside of our house. As much as I loved him, as much as he was my brother, he was always just one step too many away from me, just a little too much older.

I was left behind.

Charlie was the adventurer; the brother who brought home fantastic pets and so many other things that caused the rest of us wide eyes and excited praise. I thought we could have been close at first; when he began to develop an interest in wild magical animals, I began a short project to find things for him, to help. Whenever I was about to show it to him, though, he always went somewhere else. I never got the chance.

I was ignored.

The twins were born and I thought that at last, I could have some brother who would look at me and consider me just that. But even from the cradle, they created jokes and made a mockery of my way of standing out in the family, my strait-laced attitude. The first time I held them, they simultaneously spit up; even Mother laughed.

I was the butt of the jokes from day one.

Ron could have been different. I could have made a difference and been known as a brother. But he wasn't; he didn't like me from the day he came home, and then the twins got to him. That made it all the worse; no matter how many times they made him cry, or the time they changed the teddy bear into a spider in his arms, he would run to them, and laugh when I was the butt of the jokes again.

I had no respect.

Ginny was the only one who even tried to be close to me. She loved everyone in the family; Bill was her protector, Charlie her idol, Fred and George her fun, and Ron her best friend. I don't know what she thought of me, but after her first year of life she stopped crawling to me, started to cry whenever I would be asked to watch her, even run away from me when I came down the stairs or outside.

For the first time, I felt hated.

Father was busy with work, his Muggle toys in the shed, my siblings, Mother…every time I tried to talk to him about the trouble I went through, he either didn't understand, or wouldn't have the time to stay and hear me out.

I was lost and no one was looking to find me.

Mother was excruciatingly different. She would focus so solely on one single child at a time and get everything right. But whenever I was able to get through to her, she wouldn't hear of it. She was so certain that I was just feeling lost in the six others that she'd give me food and send me off to play with them. There was one thing she couldn't see.

I was mocked. By her.

Those feelings are, of course, completely overdramatic and bred from a simple case of a young child being stuck in a large family. Of course I was loved – up until I made my choice. But then again, they did serve to make an excellent cover for me when I needed one. After all, I needed a reason for the shouting match. The terrible feelings I'd kept bottled up inside worked.

It was my contribution to Dumbledore's plan. He had the need for a spy once it became clear that Fudge was going to ignore the warnings – and there I was, already so close to the Minister by default. He and I met early in the summer, after it became clear that Fudge was going to continue keeping his head in the sand. I gave him my idea – the argument.

Dumbledore is a kindhearted man, and of course tried to convince me things could be done in a better way. But I knew that there was no way for me to make my loyalty to the Ministry over Dumbledore more obvious. It had to be real, not faked, and if I stayed within my family – well, the Weasleys are notoriously confident in the Headmaster. My Father and Mother wouldn't be able to handle my being a spy, being in the Order, either. I knew it, and Dumbledore knew it, too.

So I went ahead with my plan, letting the bitterness I felt towards my family fuel my words. I kept careful watch on what I said, making certain that I'd be keeping secret my true intentions. No one in my family could have any idea that I had ulterior motives – to use Fudge's job offer as an opportunity to spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

I can still remember their faces that night, so clearly. Mother was crying; Father looked so shocked and sad. The omnipresent, matching grins were gone from the twin's faces; Ginny was shaking and white-faced, and Ron was staring at me as if he'd never seen me before. I don't know what Bill or Charlie would have said, but they would have intervened. I was glad they weren't there to interrupt me, to cut me off.

That wouldn't have allowed room for my plan to culminate in an ending that I had pictured perfectly.

I'm a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but I never turned up for the meetings. I never went to Grimmauld Place, because my parents – especially my mother – spent so much of their time there. I would report to Dumbledore alone in Hogwarts.

Dumbledore made me the offer right after the Triwizard Tournament to join with the ranks of the group he was restarting. I didn't know what to say – what does one tell the man they respect above all others when he asks them to spy for him? All I could do was meekly accept the task.

And then I found out what trouble there came from being a spy, and none of the people who you're helping know that you're the informant. That you're the one who's in two worlds and neither is stable enough to stand in. Never mind what I had to do to become a spy: the fact that my "colleagues" didn't even know I was working with them was disheartening.

From running across Kingsley and Tonks the Aurors, to Mad-Eye, to my own father… All these people in the Ministry that I have to pass by with my head held high and nose in the air. The men and women who do not know that I am actually on their side of the war…

The truth is that I'm long over my days as the snotty Prefect and Head Boy. All of that was over and done with, because I had grown up.

Yet to play my part convincingly I had to act like I hadn't matured. I had to act like I was the first traitorous Weasley in the lot, too ambitious for my own good. I had to act more Slytherin than Gryffindor. The thought sickened me. The act sickened me. It was…sickening!

And, by setting up appointments and such, I knew where Minister Fudge was at all times. I knew who he was with and heard everything he heard. Even things that came from Lucius Malfoy were passed on by word of mouth to me by the Minister. I had to hold my tongue whenever the vicious, evil woman named Dolores Umbridge came in to report to Fudge, mouthing off about my brothers and their friend Harry. I had to put up with everything I hated, that my family was struggling against.

Oh, I knew they weren't just fighting Voldemort under wraps: they were fighting the Ministry of Magic and, more predominantly, Minister Fudge. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen at all, as Dumbledore told me. It was more important for the overall scheme of things for the Order to work alongside the Ministry.

Instead, we're active spies inside its ranks and working toward a goal that the Ministry wants but won't fight for. I'm constantly worrying and always wondering, hoping that I can do something to help them win the small battles, never mind the entire war.

At the same time, a selfish part of me wants recognition. I want to be able to walk into an Order of the Phoenix meeting as an equal; instead, I hear slights from the Order members I see everyday in normal Ministry working conditions.

I can hear it all from where I stand in such prominence, and it hurts me every single day when I walk by my father. I remember so clearly the first time I saw him after our fight; as luck would have it, we ended up in a lift together.

That moment was the worst of my life. Here he was, standing beside me – my father – and I couldn't even so much as nod at him without dangerously hurting my cover. We pretended not to see each other, and he passed by going on his way without hesitation.

The only hint of his recognition that I saw was clenched fists.

When the day came that those six teenagers broke into the Department of Mysteries and Voldemort was at last exposed, I wanted nothing more than to run home to my family with my arms open, exclaiming joyfully that they were right, they proved it, they were the most wonderful people on Earth for sticking to their convictions…

But it would have been fatal.

If I had given up my cover, someone else could have pushed his or her way to where I was – and that person could very well be working under Voldemort's command, eager to hear every detail that I came by to pass along to their Master. I stayed stolid. My family was left thinking that I was nursing my wounded pride.

Truthfully, it hurt that they weren't suspicious in the least. Did they really think that I was like this, that I grasped at any straw I could? That I was this shallow and prideful? Considering it conjured a dark cloud that hung over my head.

Then Fudge was kicked out of office and Scrimgeour came in. He was just a politician, not what we needed when there was war going on. It was horrid and awful to think that such a thing was happening out there while this man sat around – and the things I heard…I wanted to jump on a broom and go warn Harry about his plans.

All I could do was caution Dumbledore – and I was relieved when he told me that he had the utmost confidence in Harry's ability to spot the Ministry trying to close its nets on him. I was as proud as any older brother when Christmas came and Harry evaded Scrimgeour's advance.

But it was also the worst day of my life since the argument.

To be back in the Burrow, to see my family – and to see the utmost resentment in their eyes, the anger they all harbored – even the Order members that I had come to hear about from Dumbledore every week as I made my report…they all glared.

I was scared the most of Remus Lupin, however. Oh, it wasn't just that he was a werewolf – it was that he had the protective streak of what he undoubtedly saw as his pack, and that meant all of the Order, my entire family, Harry and Hermione.

I was grateful for that. Werewolves are very loyal, wonderfully protective beings of that which they consider theirs. Even though I felt guilty for thinking of him in such animalistic terms, I couldn't deny the happiness that came from the knowledge that I knew he would protect my family to his last breath.

When he was there one day as I entered Dumbledore's office at the appointed hour, I was able to give him my thanks in person. I found out that he was another spy. When Professor Snape showed up, it wasn't all that surprising that he was a Death Eater spy. The three of us were the major carriers of information.

And then Dumbledore told us something that shook me to the core. And we saw how his hand looked, still withered and burnt. And I couldn't look at Snape or Dumbledore without tears welling in my eyes; ex-Professor Lupin was the same. That was a very quiet hour.

In the end, he made me Professor Snape's contact in case need arose, and Lupin mine. He also cautioned us that McGonagall couldn't know of this – no matter how much danger it placed Professor Snape in, the Order at large could not know about his position if it came down to the very worst of it all. To what we knew was coming in the end.

Right after that, very personal news came into light. I had been sharing an apartment with Penelope – the only one besides Dumbledore, Snape and Lupin who knew what I was doing – and we received exciting news.

We were going to be parents.

I learned this and we spent a few short weeks surrounded in a cloud of bliss, marred by the fact that only the two of us were there to celebrate. Her parents threw her out after hearing about it and wouldn't try to reach her, or receive owls. And for very obvious reasons, my family couldn't know. It was a very trying time, but we were content together.

Our joy was tempered with the knowledge that a war-torn world was no place to bring a child into. However, we were willing to fight to make this a world worth being in, a world worthy of our son or daughter. The good news was that Penny worked from home as an editor, so at least her pregnancy could be kept completely secret as it became more obvious. This would help keep her safer – Merlin only knew what Death Eaters would have done to her, them, us… A Weasley and a Muggleborn's child? I made sure that our flat had many protections.

A final meeting came, one that Snape, Lupin and I set up with each other. It wasn't supposed to be the last one, but we knew that the end was approaching far too quickly. Despite that knowledge, I felt honored to be spoken to like an adult with these two great minds of the war. Snape may have been somewhat harsh but was still a superbly capable man, and Lupin was far more extraordinary – even Snape respected him for it, despite their past.

That was the last night we three spoke.

My heart was heavy when I went home that night, and I spent my days just waiting for the inevitable news that was going to come from Hogwarts at any day. And when the Ministry tingled with word-of-mouth and Scrimgeour received the confirmation from Hogwarts, I was standing right there. Prepared for the news.

Nevertheless, it came as such a blow. I knew it was coming and I was gratified that I was showing such shock to the messenger. When the funeral came, I was as ready as any other man to head out to the castle and mourn the loss of the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts had ever known.

And that is where I stand now.

There are many Order members here, all of whom I know by name even though they know nothing of me. I know only because Dumbledore told me about each and every one. It was a precaution, so that I would know who they were and not hinder them if they tried to dig up information. I watched everyone who was in the Order and working in the Ministry, which I was able to do because of my position.

I catch Lupin's eye and there's a moment of quiet understanding before he looks back down at Tonks. My lips twitch at the sight of them together. I don't even know them well. I just heard of them from Snape and Lupin at that last meeting, and yet I think they're perfect together.

Scrimgeour leaves my side, heading off towards Harry. I can feel my face twisting and I struggle to compose it. The man is insufferable in his attempts to draw Harry into the Ministry's clutches. I have to fight to keep a blank face as I watch them walk together.

There's no hint as to what was said, but Scrimgeour comes back in a foul mood.

"I have a few more words to exchange with…predominant people, Weasley," he growls to me, plastering a somber expression on his annoyed face. "We'll be out in a long while – go chat with somebody. It doesn't matter to me." He disappears; my shoulders lose their rigid posture and I stride slowly towards that white tomb.

I can see out of the corner of my eye that Ron and Hermione have joined Harry – Ginny is watching them, a peculiar look on her face. Pausing mid-stride, I want to turn around and go sit by her, offering a little bit of comfort.

And then the memories of her crying, running away from me, sticking her tongue out and turning her back on me, flash through my mind. Maybe it's foolish, maybe it's reading too much into things, but...

I walk again, very slowly.

When I come to a stop, I turn my head and see her walking over to Harry, who's now alone. My eyes trail surreptitiously over the people gathered, talking softly with one another, and land on a familiar clump of redheads. My heart begins pounding in earnest – all of them, my whole family. Even Charlie. Of course he came back from Romania for the funeral.

Stomach swirling uncomfortably, I can see that Mother is trying to walk away from the group. I know full well that she wants to come to me. And I can see by the guarded anger, which only another Weasley can spot, that my brothers hate me just as much as ever.

My eyes turn completely to the white tomb before me. It's so simple and pure a color: the color of hope, and peace, and purpose. There's life even in the death of Dumbledore, hope even in the midst of his funeral. I want to smile as I realize that the barmy old man is still inspiring me to be brave and do my duty – even while he's dead because he did his.

But smiling at the funeral of the great Albus Dumbledore could probably be considered a mortal sin. Angry wizards and witches who know what I've done to my family would assault me on the spot. I'm sure that everyone has to know about it by now. It certainly seems like it, sometimes.

I begin to wonder if people can see it on my face, etched into my body, whenever I get particularly depressed about being unable to see my family. I often long for the days when I could have gone to the Burrow again, and seen everyone there. Even if I never really fit in, and was the outcast and Black Sheep of the Weasley Family, I still loved those times despite the differences that made me stick out like a sore thumb.

It just hurts all the more, now that I'm no longer the same pompous bastard. Because I can't betray my cover, I can't go back and show everyone that I have changed. I must be strong, and I must persevere. I have to work all the time in keeping my appearance whole and complete.

I don't know how long I stand there, staring at the tomb, but it is a long time. The grass is soft all around me, but somehow I can hear the footsteps heading my way. I glance at the ground, picking up the shadow: a man, walking up behind me. He seems tall, and his hair is casting a messy shadow. I know who this is. "Professor Lupin."

Remus pauses at my side, standing stone silent and strong beside me. "Percy. And please, just Mr. Lupin if we have to be formal."

I do my best not to smile a little. "No, Remus, we're fine. You can talk plainly around me – to a certain extent, of course."

"Of course." The tired, aging werewolf pauses, seeming to consider what the best words to use would be. "…Percy, I don't know if I should be telling you this. It seems that you're in a very precarious position, in both the Ministry and…our world."

"Why would you ever think that, Remus?" I snort. "I apologize. It's just…a bit more disconcerting that I thought it would be."

"I understand."

I paused, trying to find the right words. "To be honest, Remus, I don't think you do. I think that of the three of us, we each see a different side. I merely have to navigate a network of bureaucratic imbeciles and try to draw information from the top. And there's…the one that calls for the most secretive movement and utmost anonymity… Then, you – who has to immerse himself in everything that he hates, like we do, but at far greater risk for his own health and peace of mind…"

"I don't believe I put myself at greater risk there, out of all three of us. You obviously don't have to worry about being literally on the field, but between him and I…it's the same job with different…people."

"No, it's not. Do you know why?" I don't wait for an answer. "Because you never asked for what you have to do. You're literally the only one who can do it, who makes the choice to wade amidst them day after day because you sincerely want them to see your point of view…because of a hope you have for your own future and the future of everyone, not just those like you. But…he…chose it in the first place, and has no choice but to try and make up for it, and does it in the hopes for a better future for everyone – which he doesn't believe he will live to see."

Remus is quiet for a long moment before he murmurs, "And that is why he is so much stronger than I am. What he does this for is so much more important than a single werewolf's longing for an unattainable peace."

"But he's fighting to get to the Final Battle – not beyond that. He's essentially locked on a suicide mission, no escape except for death. But you chose to try and make a difference, and actually hope to live past it. That shows more strength to me than a man who has decided to use the last years of his life to bring about a battle. You're trying to decisively end something much more potent and infectious – and dangerous, in the long run – than a man who can become mortal at the stroke of a sword."

We hold our companionable silence for a long minute before he mutters, "The stroke of a sword…you did find something, then?"

"Of course." My lips twitch a little. "Being so high up gives me ample opportunity to access…anything." I glance over at him out of the corner of my eye and meet his gaze. "Gryffindor. Only a Gryffindor."

He nods, taking the information. I add, "And I sincerely hope, Remus, that if the four of them go off together that they know there will be a certain addition to…Harry's Vault – before they depart, and after the fact, of course." I can feel his gaze on me. "I have the influence of something better than the Ministry. And I've taken care of the additions: they're ready. One was delivered this morning, promptly when I expected it to be."

He nods again, impressed, then pauses. "Four? What do you mean, four?"

I sigh. "Isn't it obvious?" When I receive no answer, I shrug and fold my arms across my chest. "Ginny loves him too much to let him leave her behind. And if it comes down to it – I approve most heartily. I…I really do believe that he's more than an honorable person – no, man."

"He became a man all too soon," Remus murmurs. "I wish I could have been there for him, more than I managed. I should have…"

"But you weren't and you can't change that," I say briskly, determined to nip this new mood right in the bud. "And there's no use fretting about it now. You can't change it, and that's a fact. Let's leave it at the simple truth that you're here now. And you'll help – right?"

"Of course I will," he replied. "I…I do wish, so many different things, but…I know. And I do intend to do everything in my ability to make sure that he knows I can help them. There's no use in them wandering around if they don't have a bit of information to go by."

I nod. "He," I gesture slightly towards the white tomb, "guided me through the Ministry labyrinth to dig. I came across some things that I combined with what I had added to the Vault. Just information, but important information for them," and then I paused. "You'll tell them, won't you, that it was Dumbledore who meddled? Who set everything up for them?"

I feel more than see the startled expression that crosses his face. "What do you mean? Surely they will know that it's your doing."

I smile, and it feels like I had an enormous weight on my shoulders – or, perhaps, that I am much older than I look. I feel like it. "Remus…" I shake my head. "Granted, my job is less dangerous and less important than yours or…our third member," I say vaguely, "but I do still have to do it. You will need the information I can provide to you, especially if Scrimgeour continues on his current path."

There is silence between us for a long minute. Remus looks down at the ground, tracking the grass with his eyes for a moment before returning them to the tomb. Then, abruptly, he turns toward me fully, instead of allowing me to see him in profile as we both gaze at the tomb of Albus Dumbledore. "Percy, you cannot continue this. It is destroying you."

I blink at him, uncomprehending. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"Have you looked in a mirror at all, lately? I," he shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. "I remember you, as a student, here. You were so full of life, so full of questions and a will to learn. To better yourself, which I know has always been your goal, for you and your family. But now…that spirit, it's all but gone."

I laughed without any humor. "We're living in a war, Remus. I've had to get over the notions of childhood and…grow up."

"Growing up beyond childhood is not the same as giving up hope. I should know. It's what destroyed me in the First War." He sighed, and I sensed his shoulders sagging. "And that's what being alone does to you. Percy, you need your family. Especially…especially after what happened last week."

I would have preferred he not mention that Penny was almost killed. Remus knows only because I went to him for help. Penny and I moved to a new flat, and there are more protective charms up, but our home is a matter of public record within the Ministry since I am in such a high position. I hadn't changed it yet, so anyone would think that we still lived in our old flat if they looked it up. But that still didn't keep Penny and our unborn child safe.

I know that if I reconnected with my family, Penny could be safe in the Burrow. Those wards have the might and force of the entire Order and then some behind them. But I know what I know…

"What happened last week isn't enough of a reason, and besides which they won't want me." I sense him beginning to argue with me and cut him off, still determined not to look at him. "No, Remus, listen to me. Certainly, understanding might be attained. Help might be given. But I can't do that to them."

"Do that to them? Percy, they still have no idea that the fight that broke you away from them was a manufactured, planned and plotted setup! How can you keep that truth from them?"

"For the very reasons I said all of those things in the first place." It would do no good for me to get angry; to let my temper rise the way Remus is struggling not to. "I have a job to do. Dumbledore asked me, I accepted. And I made sure I could successfully manage the job."

"Forgive me, Merlin…" Remus sighs before adding, "Percy…Dumbledore is gone now. Your…job, assignment, is no longer necessary. We've moved past the time for subterfuge and the gathering of information. Someone else can take this task off your shoulders."

My lips twitch in a laugh that I'm not willing to let slip out. "The fact that you want someone else to take my job is the very ammo to disprove your theory that it is now obsolete, Remus. And no one else in the Order is higher up in the Ministry than I am. I'm the only one who can get the information you need. We need me there, still. After all – you won't be able to return to the ferals for more information, will you?"

He sighs heavily, and I know he mourns the loss of this task that he could have accomplished. That he feels he might have… "No, they saw me fighting during the Hogwarts battle. Well, not all of them, but Greyback was here, and that's enough to keep me out."

We are silent for a long minute, a careful camaraderie that will soon fade. "Do you see why I can't give up my position? No matter the cost to me, I have to be able to do something in this war somehow, Remus. What use is a quill-sharpener in the Minister's office if he can only sharpen the damn quills? I have to be able to help somehow, while the rest of my family is out there fighting."

"And that's exactly why you have to confess to them what these past two years have been about, Percy! Don't you see? It has a cost not only to you, but to everyone you love – your family, even the Order is affected." He's barely struggling to keep the volume down, which is quite an amazing feat in my book. He has a supreme amount of self-control.

"The Order is helped by my job."

"But your family is not!" Remus sighs again. I know that he wishes I would give in – but I can't. "Percy, let me tell you something about the First War. Every single day, I knew that I might never see my friends again. Every single day, I knew that I might die. Every day, Percy. No one can live like that for long, by himself…" he swallows. "Why do you have to deprive yourself of what could be the last moments you spend with your family? You do this only because Dumbledore asked you to help him, but that wasn't an order. It was a request."

"You know how hard it is to refuse Dumbledore something that he requests," I moan. He turns back to the tomb, watching it with me again. "I know that I…I might not see my family whole at the end of this war. I might even be the one to die before I can tell them what happened, why I had to leave. But…my own heartache is not enough to make me think that I shouldn't try to help. That I shouldn't do something in this war, to make a difference…"

"You can make a difference while with your family."

"But I am needed where I am." My mouth twitches again, another bitter smile tugging at the corners. "You know what's funny? I traded my family for my job. I traded my life for lies. Last week, my love was nearly traded for death. That is what's so horrible about war: the way it steals everything."

"One more thing it steals is innocence," he tells me gently. "Along with conscience and common sense. There is nothing more tragic than a soul who believes he has to be alone in order to do what's right." He isn't just talking about me, but I know that he's using it in the context to try and convince me that he is right.

"I'm not alone," I hedged. "I just…don't have my family." And probably never would have them back, for that matter…I had waited too long.

Remus snorted, nearly silent. "Are you sure this isn't your pride talking, Percy?"

"Very." I knew that he was just teasing me, trying to make me feel better. I wondered how he could know how rotten I felt, before I remembered the very important fact of 'werewolf senses'. "My pride has nothing to do with this. You know this is only about me, doing what I have to do in this war."

"Perhaps…or perhaps you're simply being stubborn."

"Stubbornness could be key to why you aren't changing my mind."

"Would any of your family be able to change it?" he suddenly asked. "Would any one of them possibly make you change your mind?"

I shook my head. "That would entitle them waiting long enough to listen to me about what really happened back then. I'm positive that they are not willing to listen to what I have to say – especially since I've waited too long, now, to try and make amends."

I can practically see Remus pressing his lips together tightly, even if I'm not looking at him. "Dumbledore never intended for this to happen. He never wanted you to do this in the first place – he could have found another way for you to start spying on Fudge, without such a disaster being thrown into motion."

"That's why I'm the one that came up with the plan. That's why I'm the one who set it in motion myself. You know…as much as I admired the old man, he didn't see that keeping in touch with my family would only make Fudge suspicious of me. And by keeping that separation up, Scrimgeour now believes that I'm completely loyal to the Ministry. Don't you see, Remus, that this was the only way to get in as far as I did?"

He is quiet for a moment. "But to give up your family, Percy? They want you back."

I tell him what I've known for a while. "They hate me, Remus. I know it." I glance at him, seeing confusion and shock on his face. "No, I know they do. I can't fault them for it. After all, what I said, did…it's inexcusable. I betrayed them all. Even if I did go to apologize for myself, my actions were still worse than anything I've ever done to them before."

Remus raises an eyebrow at me. "'Done to them before'?" he quotes. "What in the world are you talking about?"

I know that I can't begin to explain to him how I feel they've treated me. I can't begin to explain to him how oversensitive I've probably been, which allowed the fuel for the fire in that one argument. So instead, I say, "Never mind that. I just…I know that I have no right to ask them to listen to me, to ask them to let me explain my actions. I never will."

His expression is more frozen than I expected – almost as if he is hiding something. "Be that as it may…what if you family already knew why you left?"

I'm frozen for one moment before my face blanks. That's not a hypothetical question. I can tell by the expression on his face. "You set me up," I realize. Any number of charms – something that would take our voices and echo them through a transmitter…or maybe he told them before he came here…

His eyes show no apology, although there is guilt. I see stubbornness in his eyes that I had previously believed was solely Dumbledore's expression. Now I know – he had trained a protégé. "I must apologize, Percy, but…I'm sure you've heard of your brother's inventions? Called Extendable Ears, I believe?"

Quickly, I glance down at the grass and see a multitude of blades bending under invisible pressure. It's almost unnoticeable in the light breeze of the day, and there is no sign of the flesh-colored strings sliding quickly away even though I caught a glimpse of their path. Straight towards my family…

I swallow and look away from the ground. "Invisibility spells?"

"And repelling charms, so that no one steps on them. Fred and George fixed them up rather well, made only a few dozen that are strictly for Order use." Remus smiles, and I can't fault the man for manipulating me.

But I can put my foot down. "The answer is still no. Not until this war is over," I say before he can argue. "At least not here. Scrimgeour is in the crowds. I can't approach my family and expect to keep up my charade."

He nods slowly, reluctant to admit that I am right. "So shall I go and tell them that, then?"

I nod, and then add, "You might want to tell Mother just how…long you've known about this." I give him a look, which he interprets – and winces at.

"You've right, I hadn't thought of that," he murmurs.

Then he is walking away from me, over toward my family – his family – and I turn around and head straight down the aisle, intent on finding someone 'important' to talk to. I have to keep up appearances to Scrimgeour, after all, and even though my long talk with Remus wasn't exactly one with an extremely 'important' person, he can't find fault with it today. For one thing, he hardly pays attention to whom I speak with unless it's someone he wants to support him, and for another, he's just preoccupied.

As if to prove my thoughts right, he pops up in front of me before I get very far into the crowd, hiding myself from my family's sight. "Ah, there you are," he grunts. He's displeased: I take note of the fact that he's no longer looking around for Harry. "I suppose we'd best be off – lots to do today." That's show, for anyone who overhears.

I simply begin my fawning movements, a marionette puppet on strings once again. In fact, many guests are now leaving from the funeral area. The only ones who aren't, are the ones that I know for a fact are Order members or Hogwarts teachers. Scrimgeour leads the way into the castle. I know that we are going through the Floo in the Headmaster's office.

As we reach the edge of the crowd, I peek over towards the side. And abruptly away, intent on the path in front of me.

I can see a confrontation on the lawn reaching a peak point in progress. My family is there – all the Weasley's except for me; Harry, Hermione, Remus, and Tonks. My family. There seems to be a bit of upset and more than one pair of eyes searching for me.

It's a bit startling that, from across the lawn, I managed to meet Harry's eyes. He looked rather stunned – and thoughtful. If I were closer, I would have been able to tell better. Since I'm not – and won't be, ever – I only know what I can tell from this distance. And that was the overall picture and flavor of the mass of huddled people.

There's something inappropriate about this happening at Dumbledore's funeral – and yet, oh, so fitting. He didn't like what I did to get him what he wanted, but it was after his death that his wish was granted by the man who I'm certain I will forevermore think of as his protégé. Remus Lupin is Albus Dumbledore, all over again. Just a little less…confident in himself.

However, neither of them ever liked what I did in order to do what I had to in this war.

But no matter what else happens in the future, I know exactly what I am doing right now. I'm trying to stop the Dark Lord from taking over the wizarding world. I'm trying to do what I think is right, even if it costs me my pride.

I've had to do things as a spy that I never enjoyed, not for one second. I've had to stand by, listening and doing nothing. I've had to agree with people that I hated. I've had to say things I didn't mean, and sound liked I didn't want to. I've had to do so many things that my insides rebelled against in the sake of staying in my position, staying on the chessboard in one piece.

This whole war is a chessboard with a million pieces and multiple colors and sets. I'm a pawn that is pretending to be the right-hand man of one king, while in reality my paint is another king's color. I could get taken out so easily. And yet, I'm persisting in my duties. I simply cannot stop my mission, back out of my job and ignore my duty and honor.

I still have my honor, black as my name is now painted. I lost my pride in that terrible battle that cost me the meaning behind my name, and yet – unbeknownst to all – I still hold my honor as tightly as ever. Only two other men in the world could see it for what it was.

Now, of course, my name is catching up to me again. My family name, this time, instead of my given name, is warping reality into something new.

I wish that I could take back the words that I exchanged with Remus. I wish that I could leave my family in the illusion that I betrayed them, for no reason other than a different kind of pride.

This is the pride that will not allow me to back down from my post and halt my contribution to the war effort. This is the pride that is marking my name a different style from how I know it is written, in my heart. This is the pride that keeps me steady and firm, and this is the pride that made me leave them all in the first place.

As I follow the Minister into the school, I don't look back once more. I don't turn to see what is behind me, and only look at what is ahead.

I have a job to do.

And I have a name to live up to. Two of them, actually.

When one thinks of Albus Dumbledore, they will almost always think of the kindhearted, well-meaning man that he tried to be. What he did shaped who he was, and who he was became the connotation of his name.

And when one thinks of Percy Weasley, what will they think? What I did nearly two years ago, most likely. What I am still persisting in doing, to the utmost scorn of every friend of my family's – and of my family, itself. Maybe there's one more thought, now that my family knows the truth, but I am not going to find out. I might never find out.

When I hear my name, I hear all of what I am and have.

I am Percy Weasley.

I am deeply loyal to the Ministry of Magic.

I am a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

I am a traitor to my family.

I have courage for leaving my family.

I have the purest of blood.

I am a blood traitor.

I have great honor because I am with the Ministry of Magic.

I have no honor because I am with the Ministry of Magic.

I am a pompous git and always have been.

I am no longer pompous and long since outgrew the traits.

My name is Percy.

There's no easy way to sum up everything that I am. But…

It's all in my name.