The following chapter describes intense crime scenes, has some disturbing imagery. It also describes the sensation of not being able to breathe. Reader discretion is advised.

Percy had never been good at setting limits for himself. Overworking himself to the point of exhaustion was a natural state for him. He'd work beyond burnout, as if there was an endless fuel of energy within him, not matter how thinly he stretched himself.

When he was younger he truly felt there was no limitation in what he could accomplish. If you want to get a job done, there is limitless energy you can expend to get said job done. All you had to do was organize your mind and POOF! It would get done. Allnighters, skipping meals, social isolation, pushing caffeine-like potions and even using charms to stay awake. Those all felt reasonable to him. Afterwards he'd feel shaky and exhausted, but one good night of sleep or two and he'd be back to normal.

Now, no matter how he tried to dole out his energy more wisely, he felt like he'd run a marathon of allnighters. A constant numb tiredness saturated him. He was only twenty-one, but feeling decades older. He supposed he accomplished quite a lot in a day compared to most people, but that failed to energize him or make the numbness dissipate. If anything, he was aware of how little he could accomplish compared to before.

He had so many people coming into his office, and so many papers, and so many questions, and so many problems to solve and… He just couldn't handle it like he used to. His head was pounding, as if the pulse wanted to make its way out his eye sockets.

He looked up from his form at the old man across the table. He was looking at Percy expectantly, as if he could provide an answer that would fix everything, but Percy knew he would be very little help at all. He wanted to help. He'd cut off his right hand if he thought it'd help. But nothing would. Percy's hands began to sweat.

"I don't understand…" the old man let out.

"Your son's body was found at the Mireland Camp. We can perform a spell to give you an image to identify him, just to make sure, but fingerprints indicate it to be John."

"But… but I received his letter. Just weeks ago. His letter…"

"Yes… It looks like it was sent to the wrong address, and someone sent it to you just now."

"How… How long has my John been dead?"

"This form says about four months."

The old man gave a shuddering cry, and Percy quickly conjured a handkerchief for the man who began sobbing.

The old man had been searching over half a year, and finally when he thought he was to be unified with his son, Percy has to tell the man they found nothing but a body.

In the past few days, he had to tell over a dozen families they'd found their loved one's body. Aurors had uncovered a Muggleborn 'internment camp.' They had named it Mireland Camp. A camp seemed such an inadequate term for what they'd discovered. It was a prison of death and torture. Inhuman experiments had been performed on prisoners there to try and find the 'root of their stolen magic.' They'd done everything they could to strip prisoners of this 'stolen' magic,' and then when Voldemort's defeat had happened, the wardens abandoned their prisoners. It was a well hidden prison, with so many spells in place that no one knew it existed but those who had been there. If not for a confession from a captured Death Eater, all the prisoners would surely have died. Many had starved to death, though, unable to escape the pens they'd been locked away in.

There were mounds of bodies, and so far, only less than one hundred had been identified. The Death Eaters' records had been enchanted so only a Death Eater could read them. The Ministry only had a few people with Dark Marks willing or able to read the records. Death Eaters were currently dictating documents to Quick Quills, even as Percy sat here telling an old man the search for his son was at an end.

They were lucky that his son had been a Ministry employee- otherwise, they would need to do a variety of tests to identify the half-putrefied corpse. It had only been preserved well enough for fingerprints due to a peat bog the Death Eaters had been throwing corpses in. Some of the prisoners were turned into Inferi— left behind by the monsters who had run the camp. They had been a nasty surprise for the Aurors and volunteers who went on a rescue mission to the Camp.

"Do they know… Do they know how he died?"

Percy roughly swallowed. There wasn't enough flesh to immediately how John had died, but given the five arms growing out the side of the body, it was likely due to a human experiment gone wrong.

"It's unknown. An autopsy would need to be done. If you'd like to forgo that, of course, you may. It can be easier on the family, in these cases, not to know."

Percy hoped the old man wouldn't try to find out more about the camp. Every new file he came across left him feeling nauseated. He hadn't been able to imagine anything so inhumane or sick as the variety of horrible deaths he'd been told about. The only thing thing he could be grateful for was that he didn't have to go there and help remove the corpses. He was looking forward to getting the victims of the prison back to their families, if they had any.

Family reunification.

It had seemed like such an easy task at first. Just getting people back together! Fill out some forms, arrange a portkey here or there, and poof! There are happy families having a reunion.

Percy was not prepared for the influx of people who didn't know where their family members were, and was even less prepared to inform them their family members were dead. It grew harder and harder each week. The longer he worked, the dead people or missing family. His files were filled with face after face. They had a book of pictures for people to look through— some were pictures of the dead, some were children who didn't know their full names, some of people suffering from so much mental spell damage they didn't know their own name. Lastly, there were spells they could use to reconstruct a corpses face. They were somehow most disturbing, because the face would look alive and whole- when in fact the owner of that face was dead and their body so destroyed that they needed a spell to create a face.

The old man didn't spend much time in the office, and Percy was terribly grateful for it. He didn't know how much longer he could keep himself together watching an old man mourn for his son, openly weeping and asking questions no one should have to ask about their child. Percy's hands had a tremble in them as he escorted the man out the door.

The door shut, and not for the first time, Percy felt his own breath start to hitch. He rubbed at his eyes, stubbornly trying to keep his tears at bay. He was too tired and had too much to do. There was no time for him to sit and cry now. He had no time at all. His box was filling up with more people to see, and he couldn't stop for a moment. He leaned his back against the door to take a calming breath, but his ribs refused to move normally. An invisible vice tightened around his chest, leaving him unable to catch his breath. His mouth airlessly convulsed, gasping and trembling, face red, eyes watering. He couldn't breathe!

He looked for his wand in panic, hoping he could do a non-verbal Anapnea and get air. His wand rolled from his grasp under the table and he hadn't the breath to find it. He looked to his desk where the Mireland Camp documents sat. Was one of the documents he touched cursed?

He'd never felt such tension run through his body before. His stomach roiled and he vomited where he stood. Tears blinded him as he couldn't stop gagging, panting, and feeling as if his lungs were going to leave his body.

Shivers ran up his arms and he just managed to collapse to his knees when a knock came at the door. He couldn't make a sound, and somehow the knock made it even more impossible to breathe. The someone knocked again, and Percy managed a gasping cry of 'no!' before the door burst open and to his horror his father, eldest brothers and sister-in-law stood before him, wands drawn and ready to attack. They looked down in surprise to find Percy on the floor, still unable to breathe and lungs burning.

"Merlin!" Dad cried out, kneeling beside him.

"Percy, are you ill?" asked Fleur.

Percy fiercely shook his head, unable to say a word. His lungs kept pumping, but it was as if all the air had left the room.

"Everyone out," Dad commanded the room. They quickly obeyed, leaving just a father and his third son. His dad did some spells beside him before saying, in a slow calm voice:

"I have a cold cloth I am going to put on you, if that's alright. Concentrate on how cold it is. It will help."

Percy let out a hiss as a cool cloth was applied to the back of his neck.

"Now, focus on something ahead of you. How about the the wallpaper pattern. Try to count as many of the dots in it as you can."

Percy thought it was ludicrous to count dots when he couldn't breathe, but hadn't the energy to ignore his father. Time seemed to crawl as they sat there on the floor, counting wallpaper dots and breathing. Eventually the choking sensation subsided and his breathing became more slow and even. He knew his office was rather warm, but his whole body seemed to shake and convulse with cold.

"You're ok, son, you're ok," Dad hummed.

"I'm sorry," rasped Percy, giving a rough swallow.

"It's fine," said Dad, standing with a small grunt. "Are you alright with the others coming in or should I ask them to leave?"

Percy gave a shrug. He couldn't bring himself to decide anything, he just felt tired.

"You ok?" asked Charlie as he barged into the room.

"I guess? I don't know... what happened… One moment I was fine, and the next— the next I was…" He gestured pointlessly, his boneless arms lamely flopping by his side.

"I think you had... What is it called, Bill? Une crise de panique?"

"What?" Percy dazedly asked, not knowing as much French as he would like.

"A panic attack," Bill answered from the doorway, looking grim. Percy flushed and tried to rise, feeling a bit dizzy as he did so. To his shame Fleur and Charlie caught his arms and guided him to a chair as if he were a fainting miss from the 1800s.

Charlie was staring at him as if he were an injured baby dragon, a big hand rubbing at Percy's shoulder. Percy didn't have the strength to shrug it off. Fleur conjured some fresh water and handed him a glass he drank from. The cool water did little to rid his mouth of the acrid taste of sick, but he was grateful to have something to concentrate on as everyone stared at him.

"Have you had one of these before?" Dad asked, taking a seat beside Percy.

Percy shook his head, unable to look at any of them.

"It wasn't a panic attack," he let out. There must have been something cursed in the papers. He'd been holding them all morning, after all.

"Well, you are not ze only one to 'ave these, Percy. Zey are not uncommon, especially after all this war."

Percy shook his head again. He couldn't have had a panic attack.

They all seemed to exchange looks around him.

"It's fine, Percy," said Bill. "A lot of people have these—"

"It wasn't a bloody panic attack!" Percy snapped, stunning everyone silent. "The papers… The ones from Mireland. It must have been those."

Percy shakily pointed to the papers at his desk. There were two in the file that were from the Mireland Camp. He wouldn't put it past the Death Eaters to curse someone who had it in their presence too long.

Bill took his wand and grazed it across the papers, a series of runes and light rose from the paper. Percy felt his ears go red as he made out some of the runes. He was rusty, but as far as he could make out, there were no curses there. Just the enchantment to make the paper unreadable, which he was already aware of.

Bill squinted at Percy, but said nothing. They all silently knew there was no curse on the papers.

"When's the last time you ate?" asked Charlie, more loudly and cheerfully than was natural.

Percy wasn't sure and gave a weak shrug.

"We came to get you for a surprise lunch at the Burrow," said Dad. "Your mother's made a nice spread. She finally had the inclination to make a big meal, so we thought we should embrace it while it was here."

"I have too much to do—" Percy began, but Charlie had grabbed him by the shoulders and was pulling him up.

"No way, Perce. You're coming to the Burrow and taking the rest of the day off," he proclaimed, moving round to poke at the books on Percy's desk. "Your schedule doesn't have anyone on it."

"That's because I have paperwork to do."

"You need to put your paperwork off to tomorrow," said Bill. "After one of these it's best to take a rest."

"I can't! I'll get behind!" said Percy, starting to feel the burning sensation in his lungs start again. "I can't get behind! If I do, then there's more families not finding each other and it will be my fault. They've been through too much. I can't— I can't take a moment! I can't stop for a moment! I can't stop— I can't!"

"Percy," he heard his father say firmly, but kindly. Percy snapped his gaze up. Dad calmly put a hand on Percy's. "Come home."

Percy had no fight left in him. He could barely breathe, let alone fight back. He dumbly nodded.

Charlie volunteered to side-along with Percy, but thankfully their Dad intervened and did it instead. Charlie had never been the best at Apparating. The only time Percy had side-along Apparated with Charlie it had been a sickening experience that left him dizzy for hours afterwards. An apparition with Charlie after his current illness would surely leave Percy sick to his stomach, if not unconscious.

They had little to say as they made their way from the Apparation point, and Charlie slowly walked beside Percy. It was casual, but Percy could tell his brother was tensely at the ready should another 'illness' take him. His knees felt weak, so after walking only a few meters he was grateful to have someone nearby as backup.

They entered the Burrow and their Mum immediately bustled over.

"Oh, I'm so glad you all could make it, even though it was so last minute," she said, giving each of them a hug.

Every Weasley was present except for George. Blessedly no one pointed out his absence; otherwise their Mum would probably have her ownune crise de panique. As they gathered round the table, Ginny and Harry seemed more interested in each other than anyone else at the table, and Hermione was reading the Prophet making a face. Ron gave Percy a nod as he came and sat at the table, while Charlie doggedly followed and sat beside him. Mum had made a delicious meal, but it all tasted like sand to him.

"So how has your day been, Percy?" Mum asked.

The table was subdued, which made it all the more loud as Percy's hand shook with his tea cup.

"Er, fine," he flinched, putting his teacup on the table with much more force than necessary. He just needed to lie down for a nap and he'd surely feel better.

"You've barely eaten, are you alright?"

It felt like everyone's eyes were on him and the room wanted to close in again. Hastily he muttered an excuse before quickly making his way to the bathroom. He took off his glasses, and turned on the sink to splash cool water on his face.

What the hell was wrong with him? What even was a panic attack? It's not like he was in a battle, or doing anything that took real effort. Why was he so weak? He knew his brothers were right to insist he take the rest of the day off. He was too useless to even have a meal with his family. There was no way he could concentrate on paperwork right now. He'd just have to work the weekend a little longer than usual.

Mind made up, he opened the door to find Charlie. He sitting across from the door, large boots almost touching the side jambs.

"Have a seat," he said, patting the wooden floor beside him.

Percy wanted to roll his eyes and apparate home, but lack of energy made him trippingly lower himself to the floor beside his hulking brother.

"Been a while since the two of us were sitting like this," said Charlie.

"Yes. We're a bit grown to be sitting in the middle of a hallway," said Percy, his legs uncomfortably splayed before him. His legs were much longer than Charlie's, and he had to bend them at an odd angle to sit with his legs splayed ahead.

"Your feet didn't touch the wall then," Charlie grinned. "We'd sit here all lined up waiting for our turn to use the bath, making sure we got in before the others."

"Bill would always take the longest," Percy said with a smile.

"And I would always take the shortest," Charlie said with a laugh. "You can primp, pee, and brush your teeth anywhere. Plus, perfecting writing my name in the snow helped keep foxes out the hen house."

"You definitely weren't relieving yourself outdoors for altruistic reasons, nor would I call an 'x' perfecting your 'penmanship.'"

"How dare you question my virtue! Or my penmanship!"

"Plus, I had the best penmanship of us all" Percy said a wry grin.

"Cheeky bugger! Next Christmas we'll hold a contest. Didn't get a chance to put you in your place the last few years."

"I know… " Percy grimaced. "I'll never be able to make up for—"

"Not because of that.I was in Romania," said Charlie, hitting Percy in the arm. It was meant to be playful, but pain radiated down his arm nonetheless. "Merlin, Perce. You need to lighten up. It's no wonder you were having a panic attack."

Percy bristled and began to get up, but Charlie easily pulled him back into place.

"I wanted to talk to you about that."

"I don't have anything to say about it," muttered Percy.

"Then don't say anything," said Charlie, roughly patting his brother with a pie sized hand. "We knew what you were going through in your office. We might not be the best at helping after one, me especially, but you need to know you're not the only person in the family who has had these."

"You—?"

"Naw, not me," he said with a squint, before running a hand through his hair. "Look, if I tell you who it was they'd hate me for it. I can't do that… But I just wanted you to know you're not alone. It's normal—"

"What happened today was anything but normal," Percy protested.

"Fine, it's effed up," Chalie relented, "but a lot of people have been there, including one of your own family."

Percy couldn't fathom any of his family being a disgraced blubbering mess on the ground like he had been earlier that day. His drew his knees up to his chest, feeling very useless and small.

"Don't give yourself grief over it. I've helped them before when they had an attack. I can give you some advice, if you like, or a book to read," Charlie mentioned the book with a bit of a smile. His calloused hand patted Percy's before he stood up with a grunt. The floorboards seemed to grunt too at his lumbering movement.

Charlie was nearly to the stairs when Percy called out, "I'll take the book."

His brother gave a broad smile and continued down the stairs.

Not wanting to face anyone quite yet, Percy took the familiar stairs to his childhood room. Every creak of the stairs sounded the same as it had always had, and every picture frame was housed in the same place it'd lived for over a decade. He daren't look at the pictures, though. Too many of them had pictures of Fred in them, and it was too painful to see him and George smiling together.

Family reunification. It was ironic he should be in charge of such a task, when he'd done his level best to keep himself away from his own family for years. When he finally reunited with them, his family was torn apart forever by Fred's death less than an hour later. His family had been mostly whole for less than an hour, all because his stubbornness and pride kept him at bay for three years. Charlie hadn't joined the fighting until much later, so technically they weren't all together in one place for almost four years.

Percy looked about his familiar room, and put a hand on his old desk chair. How many hours had he wasted sitting in that chair cursing his family for being so loud and just having fun? He longed for a familiar bang or smell of gunpowder to waft from the Twin's too quiet room, but of course, there was no sound at all. With a practiced motion he untied his shoes, took off his tie, and put his glasses on the bedside table. He would sleep, surrounded by the horrible quiet he had always wanted as a child.

Having a good rest left him feeling much recovered as he returned to his office to gather some papers. The normal trudge to his office felt like nothing at all with a good bit of rest behind him. He spied a strange sight in front of him, though. His whole family along with Harry Hermione and Fleur, were standing in front of his door. They were waving in his direction, some of them beckoning him to hurry. What in the world?

"Come join us!" called his family.

He made to join them when he felt a hand on his arm stopping him. Fred was there, broad and smiling at Percy.

"You can't think they meant you, mate?" A charming smile adorned Fred's face as blood began to pour from his mouth and ears.

"Of course not… Go ahead," Percy politely answered, standing in place, watching as Fred joined his family, undisturbed as the blood trailed along the floor and started to surge.

"Percy," came a sweet voice beside him. Audrey was holding the bodies of two children who weren't moving. "Will you help these two find their parents?"

The children were rotten. Rotten like they'd been in a peat bog. Of course he'd unite them. He just needed to sleep first.

Blood was filling the corridor, but no one minded. It was warm and comforting. He just needed to rest, then he could unite the children with their parents. He'd sleep here in the hallway. There were beds all along it, blood slowly overcoming them. His family were all lying down in the beds, and Audrey was too. It was a peat bog of blood and beds, that had a knocking sound echoing through it.

"Percy?"

Percy woke, disoriented, his stomach made turbid by the bizarre nightmare. It was an all too mundane sensation. He had disturbing dreams a few times a week.

A knock came at the door. Wait, were they knocking a second time? Was that in the dream or real life?

"I'm up," Percy replied, voice hoarse from sleep.

"We have some supper, if you'd like to come and eat," came his father's reply.

"I'll be down in a moment."

Percy slowly dressed, cleaning his glasses as he made his way past the family photos. He stumbled a bit down the stairs to see only Mum and Dad downstairs, putting out some serving dishes.

"Charlie left a book for you on the cat, dear," said Mum, gesturing to the ceramic cat shaped planter in the corner. It was the spot his family always put errant objects that needed to be claimed. "Why he thinks you'd want to know about dragon mating rituals is beyond me!"

"Where are... everyone?" Percy asked, opening the book. The cover was about dragons, but the inside seemed to all be about anxiety and coping with panic attacks. He quickly stowed the tiny book in his pocket.

"Bill and Fleur went home. Charlie's with them. The rest are down at the quidditch pitch. One of us should send a patronus to get them," said Mum, getting the silverware.

Percy wasn't sure he could make one. He didn't have anything happy enough to conjure more than a whisp, much less a corporeal patronus. Dad looked equally spiritless at the prospect of sending a Patronus. The two of them eyed one another a moment before Dad volunteered to get everyone at the pitch. He didn't send a patronus; instead he walked down the path to the orchard.

He could have apparaed, but Percy thought it wiser to walk. After the war people avoided any sudden Apparations that might surprise a group. It was a perfect way to get a face full of defensive spells thrown your way, otherwise.

His Mum was at the sink and let out a loud sniff as she filled a pitcher with water.

"Are you alright, Mum?"

"I just shouldn't have said anything about a Patronus. You father hasn't made one Patronus since… since…" She shut off the water and wiped at her eyes. "I'm being silly. Don't mind me."

Percy quickly cradled his mother as she began to sniffle even harder.

"You're far from silly, and I'm sure Dad won't mind," he said, patting her back. After a few moments she pulled back and put a hand to his cheek.

"My good boy," she fondly murmured. He hadn't been called that by her in years. She had a different nickname for each of her children she used when she was most tender with them. It immediately made him feel seven years old again, wrapped in a blanket and getting a batch of her special hot chocolate. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

He knew it would make her happy to say yes, but without Bill Fleur and Charlie there as buffers, Percy wasn't sure he had the energy to cope with the rest of his family.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't stay. I missed a lot of work today, and need to get in a bit of time before bed."

His excuse sounded plausible enough, and he was quickly laden many leftovers, making the walk to the Apparation point a delicate situation. Containers nearly went spilling every few steps. Once home he found it difficult to swallow any leftovers, despite eating little that day. Perhaps he was coming down with something. Sleep and hunger seemed equally elusive that evening, for after hours of readjusting, he couldn't manage to relax and sleep. Finally he resorted to a dreamless sleeping draught, which had been languishing in his cabinet for an indeterminable time.

The next morning the normally dreary walk to his office left him unsettled. Vague memories of a blood filled hallway made him march past his office like a harpie was on his heels. His office was no respite. He couldn't stop recalling his embarrassing panic attack. With a fumbling hand, he opened the book Charlie had gifted him the night before. He quickly scanned it for tips, finding it had a format that didn't work well for speed reading. There wasn't a quick list of do's and don'ts available, and it made him irked. Instead the book was endless personal anecdotes.

He was about fifteen minutes early, so he supposed it gave him the time to read for a moment. He found one section that had a quiz in it, making him feel better about it. He could take the quiz and be done with it.

"If you have an abnormal amount of stressful events in your life and don't know how to cope with them, you are at greater risk of having a panic attack. Look over the Social Readjustment Rating Scale below and see how much stress the life events during the past year have caused you. Please note that when the word 'change' is used in this list, it means both positive and negative events."

There was a list of events with numerical scores next to them he was supposed to add. Most of them were mundane or didn't seem to apply, and there were very few about anything as dark as death, let alone war. He ended up with a score of 305.

"If you score below 150 points on this scale, you have about a one in three chance of serious health change (including panic attacks) in the next two years. [...] between 10 and 300 your chances increase to 50/50. Over 300 points, and your chances are an overwhelming 90 percent — unless you learn some coping skills."

Percy began to speed read trying to get some coping skills within the next three minutes, but with a knock on the door the parade of people began to march into his office. He'd have to find coping skills later.

Fate had spared him, to some degree, as this batch of people were far less draining than the day before. He was informing people of alive relatives, portkey approvals, and stamping paperwork for them. No one was dead. Nothing grim had to escape his mouth. Nothing dire fell upon his ears. He was feeling better. Almost normal. The last time he'd felt this way was at lunch with Audrey.

He was set to volunteer with her at the children's home, but wasn't sure if he should be more nervous or excited at the prospect. Children weren't his forte. He was never particularly liked by kids even when hewasone. His nerves increased knowing Harry would be there. Ron owled him to say as much, but had left out important details like time of arrival, who else might be there, or what he all he had informed Harry of.

Percy couldn't blame Ron for not going into details. His younger brother most likely planned to tell him in person at the Burrow, and Percy had made it nigh impossible for that to occur. For some godforsaken reason Percy had added to the situation his ex girlfriend. There were plenty of other people to help her find her niece and nephew- he could have easily given her their contact information.

Despite all this, the image of Audrey's expectant face brought a sense of calm. He felt ridiculous for being so excited to see her when they barely knew one another. He had plenty of co-workers he'd worked aside, yet she was the only one who made him nervously bite his lip and bounce his knee so hard he spilled his ink.

The rest of the day seemed to fly by, and soon he was at home ready for bed. He quickly flipped through the book, but found it tediously schmaltzy. It was all about thinking positive, having affirmations, being aware of 'cognitive distortions', 'grounding' oneself and other useless bits of advice. With a roll of his eyes, he placed the book in his desk drawer to return to Charlie.

If all he had to do was 'think positive' Percy was certain he didn't need that silly anxiety attack book. He was fine today anyways. It was amazing how well he felt, really. Things went well at work. He was getting on with his siblings. He was going to see Audrey. He would get a good night's sleep easily. Life was great- but nervous energy bounced round in his stomach, and sleep evaded him with every turn.

Around eleven at night he laid out several different outfits, trying to not be so stuffy, as it was the weekend and volunteering with children. Going through his closet, he realized he had few casual options. Most of his clothes were perfect for a business meeting, but few were good for much else. The most casual clothing he had was one of his Weasley jumpers from three years ago. He hadn't changed much in height or build the last few years, so the jumper seemed to fit well enough. The weather forecast was blissfully cold for July, with rain and cloud cover imminent.

Around one, he then had trouble deciding which book he should bring for the children, if any. Would they have books? Part of him had wanted to send an owl to Audrey to inquire, but it was far too late and he'd look like a lunatic. Many of the children would be muggleborn, so perhaps they would enjoyThe Tales of Beedle the Bard.Ron had always been fond of Babbity Rabbity when they were young.

Around three he rechecked his alarm for nine thirty, then set another one for nine instead, so he'd have more time to get there. Then he set two more alarms so he couldn't accidentally sleep through one.

Around four he finally fell asleep.

He woke to the pair of blaring alarm spells, and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He rushed through his morning ablutions, and nicked himself shaving. He quickly staunched the bleeding with a bit of tissue. He was done so quickly with everything he had far too much time on his hands, not being due for another forty five minutes. Pacing his flat made the minutes drag even longer. He attempted to read, but all the words blurred together as his nerves got worse by the second.

Finally, thirty minutes before he was due, he could take it no longer and apparated to the sign that read 'Magical Child Welfare Office.' The sky was light grey, and moisture clung in the air. It would rain any moment. He bounced on his heels, agitated with himself, for he couldn't possibly enter the home and not be seen as a conspicuous loser for arriving so early. It would not do to stay there and get drenched. He turned to apparate home, but saw Audrey walking his way in large pair of wellies, both arms filled with large paper bags. Mortification, and something else, fluttered through him as he saw her.

"Percy!" "Pardon!" they each let out in turn.

"I told Obasi you'd be here early," she said with an arch look.

"I didn't want to be late. I was going to wait out here a bit so I wouldn't inconvenience you," Percy answered lamely, though he warmed to the fact that she'd discussed him.

"Nonsense, I'm glad you came early," she said, as he took a bag of apples from her. Her radiant smile warmed him.

"Obasi thought it'd be ten minutes early but I thought at least twenty. Now Obasi owes me a knut!"

Percy's smile fell. Yes, someone as pompous as he would be an object of ridicule to them. The only reason she was happy to see him was due to being a knut richer, and having a warm body to help with things.

"I'm glad my fastidious nature made you a profit, even if it's small," he said, hoping his bitterness didn't show.

"Well, you're definitely paying off your lunch from the other day," she said giving him a playful nudge towards the gate. "Though for someone so fastidious, you should be more careful shaving."

"What?"

She pointed to her own chin and laughed. Patting his face he found the bloody tissue was still there. It figured. Nothing was going to go right today.

"Let's get inside before the heavens open up on us," she smiled, and with little preamble he was scooted along the path towards the cozy home. Only a few children were outdoors, some jumping in puddles, mud splashing in every direction. They gave a chorus of giggles as Audrey spelled them clean, booped each child on the nose, and swept them inside.

Inside was a pure chaos reminiscent of Percy's youth at the Burrow, only with oodles more children. It was warm and humid, with seemingly every square of carpet taken over by children. Some children were quietly reading in corners, but most of them were loudly playing board games, running about or making crafts.

"Snack time in ten minutes, everyone, so get to your tables please!" Audrey called over the den in a Wagnerian manner.

"You'll put cups onto the trays, Percy," said Audrey, before leaving the room.

"Catch!" said Obasi, throwing an extra tube of paper cups Percy's way. He fumblingly caught it, and doled the cups onto a nearby tray the little owl-eyed woman conjured for him. They had a large pitcher of juice for him to pour out, and he nearly spilled the thing as one of the children bumped past him. With practiced precision, the other adults opened sleeves of crackers, and quickly spelled some apples into appropriately tiny slices they portioned out in a trice.

Percy glanced around to find Audrey, and saw she was helping a child who had spilled some paint and was loudly crying. She was quite patient as she murmured something to the girl who nodded and stifled her tears with a small smile. It was a delightful tableau to watch, Audrey gently hugging a small child to her like that. She was such a natural with them. The room was frenzied as the children crowded around the tables, but Audrey kept her calm.

Percy's feeling of contentment fled his body when there was a loud bang that resonated throughout the room. Percy quickly had his wand drawn, and everyone gave a start. One of the kids meekly gave an apology, having accidentally slammed the piano's lid shut.

Most of the room seemed to ignore Percy, and they continued on as nothing had happened. Percy, however, felt a bit of the jitteriness he had the other day in his office. His chest was beginning to constrict.

"Not here," he whispered to himself, willing his body to still. His body ossified, all except his trembling hands. What had the book said? Something about coping skills? Thinking positive? But this wasn't a thought problem! This was physical! He could feel his limbs shutting down, his diaphragm spasming. What was he supposed to do when his heart and lungs were the problem? He was going to collapse in front of everyone, he just knew it.

"Percy?" his head snapped to Audrey, attentively staring at him. His throat couldn't say anything.

"I was thinking you could read to a group in the sunroom at the back. It's nice and quiet there. I'm sure you're not quite used to all this chaos," she said, leading him to the back room. His feet woodenly followed her, and he was sure his hand was clammy for her to hold.

It was noticeably cooler in the sunroom, and much quieter.

"Mmm, feel that breeze coming in through the window! There's nothing better than the smell of rain," she said, taking a big whiff of the air.

He felt himself relax a bit beside her, able to take a shaky breath. Just sitting and breathing the air like this made his hands steady.

"We have a few books in the corner you can choose from. I wish we had more of a selection, but that sort of thing takes a bit of a back seat sometimes."

Percy nodded, taking in the scent of the rain a few more moments.

"You alright?" asked Audrey quietly. She was still holding his hand. He flexed it and pulled away.

"Yeah… yes. I just have been a bit… Well, I brought a book, actually. My little brothers and sister were always fond of it," he said, fumbling in his back pocket for his copy ofThe Tales of Beedle the Bard.He handed it to her as he sat down.

"We don't have that one! I'm sure they'll love it," said Audrey, ever enthusiastic. Instead of leaving to gather children, she sat down on the wicker settee beside him, and riffled through her paper sack.

"You ok if I relax out here a bit with you? It's been a busy morning."

"Of course," he smiled.

She found what she was looking for and withdrew a chocolate bar from her bag with a triumphant crow.

"Here, have some," said Audrey, snapping off a large piece and placing it in his hand.

He nibbled at it as he eyed the book he had brought. They sat in silence for a bit. Usually he'd want to fill the silence with babble or be harriedly doing something, but she was rather pleasant to sit and smell the rain with.

"I have a question," said Audrey, "and I don't want to make you uncomfortable with it, but I must ask..."

"It's fine," he said, though he was suddenly on edge.

"Back there, when the piano lid slammed, I saw you were a bit off and pointing your wand…" Audrey said, not looking right at him. Studying her hands she continued. "Are you alright to be around big crowds and sudden noises just yet? I know after battles and such, it can be a lot for someone to deal with. I don't want to throw you into something that would be stressful, but I also can't have wands being drawn for battle around the kids."

"I can leave. I'll leave. I'm sorry," he said flatly, rising from his chair.

"No, I'm not asking you to—"

"You think I'm a lunatic. It's fine. I understand."

"Idon'tthink—"

"I'll go. You won't have to see me again."

"¡Cállate! Percy, I swear if you walk out of this room, I'm going to kick you in the shins!" she blustered, blocking his path to the door. She was panting and looking very fearsome, despite being almost a foot shorter than he.

"Kick me in the shins?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes!" she answered without hesitation, little fists at her side, and mouth fixed in a pout.

"You have a whole array of spells you could use," Percy began to snicker, "but shin kicking is your big threat?"

Her face curled up in indignation as he laughed at her.

"It's— it's not funny!" said Audrey, but soon she was smiling along with him.

He schooled his face into a much more sober smile.

"Well, we're clearly at an impasse then. I don't want to invoke the dreaded Morales shin kick."

"You better not test me!" Audrey declared before biting her lip. "Iamsorry I upset you. I just wanted to make sure you're ok."

"You've nothing to apologize for," said Percy. "I overreacted to a very necessary line of questions. If I were in your position I would do the same, and not as delicately I'm sure."

"I don't think you're a lunatic."

"High praise indeed," he let out bitterly. He took a breath and paced to the back of the sun room. He knew he wasn't a pillar of sanity anymore. Percy looked up to her hazel eyes. They were so full of compassion and understanding that he felt words start to tumble out of him of their own accord. "I'm a bit of a maladjusted wreck right now, to be honest. In all likelihood, it would be best that I ward myself off and not enter society until I'm a bit more back to normal."

"You think you're the only one who jumps at sudden noises? If we only let problem-free people out and about, there wouldn't be many left, would there? I'd probably not like any of them anyways. Far too normal for me. I'll take a maladjusted Percy over a normal one."

"You really shouldn't," he protested.

"I've already decided I like you, so it's settled. You're staying," said said with a smile, that quickly faltered. "I mean, I'dlikeyou to stay. I can't force you to volunteer here if you really don't want to. I mean, it's a complete zoo, and if anyone is a lunatic it's me, so I understand why you'd not want to be here."

"I want to be here," he assured her, hoping she could feel his sincerity. She must have, for she gave a hum and squeezed his hand for the second time that day. Maybe it was the chocolate finally kicking in, but Percy felt his chest rise with contentment and calm. Her hazel eyes twinkled at him and he felt a grin begin to take over his face.

"Am I interrupting something?" came the voice of Obasi from the doorway.

"Yes you are!" Audrey said, throwing her chocolate wrapper, which he easily dodged. She kept holding Percy's hand.

"Kids overheard there would be a story time and are getting restless. Of course, if you'd like me to tell them Miss Audrey and Mr Weasley are too busy making eyes at each other, I can do that," Obasi teased.

"Shut it," said Audrey, finally letting go of Percy's hand. "How 'bout it, Percy? You up for some story time?"

He lifted his book in confirmation. In minutes a passel of children were gathered at the foot of his chair as he read a few stories. They were particularly interested inThe Tale of the Three Brothers. Percy was not a great reader. He couldn't do voices very well, and lacked the dramatic brio Ron or the twins were able to lend a story, but they seemed enraptured all the same.

"'But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.'"

Percy finished the story, and all the kids started talking at once and asking a number of questions. Audrey had said many of the children there were Muggleborn, so it made sense they all had questions.

"Does Death really have a cloak like that?" asked one little girl.

"I don't know. I've never met him," Percy answered. "But thereareinvisibility cloaks. They're rare, but they exist."

A chorus of awed children started telling him what they'd do if they had a cloak.

"Is there really a wand like in the story?"

"Course there is," Percy heard from the back of the room. Ron was standing there and got a swat on his arm from Hermione, looking overly ferocious for him telling the children something so benign. Harry and Ginny were standing a bit further back, Harry doing his best to blend in to the wall.

"Everyone thank Mr Percy for reading us such an interesting story," Audrey instructed the children.

"Thank you, Mister Percy," they chorused as one, a few giggles breaking out amongst them as they eyed the new guests. Percy knew he was quite boring compared to the others, and was happy to have the attention on them instead of himself. He felt a bit irked when Audrey's attention went to the quartet, but quickly put his jealousy aside. They'd have plenty of time to talk later. Each of the newcomers brought activities for the children: Hermione had a pile of books in hand, Ron a chess set, and Harry and Ginny each had a broom.

The kids were immediately rather taken with Ron, a few of the little girls poking his scarred arms with delight as they asked him more about the Elder Wand, but Ron was suddenly a bit less vocal about it as Hermione glared at him.

"Wait, Harry Potter?!" one of the older boys cried out, and the chaos of earlier was back ten-fold. All the kids scrambled to see the hero of the the wizarding world. Harry was somehow blanching and smiling at the same time.

Percy was about to check in with the owl-eyed woman when he was stopped by a boy tapping him on the elbow. It was the serious ten year old from the other day, whose little brother was showing so much accidental magic.

"Mr Percy?"

"Maximilian was it?" he asked the boy.

"Yes sir. I- I have a question," he said, looking about to make sure they had privacy.

"Ask away." Percy had always rather enjoy answering questions. It was the only thing he truly thought he was good at. He was not fun, charming or handsome, but he'd always been knowledgeable.

"Sir, if invisibility cloaks exist, then do Elder Wands and Talk to Dead People Stones exist too? Could that stone in the story actually be real?" he asked, staring intensely at Percy

"Well, I can not claim I know with all certainty the Wand and Stone don't exist. Anything is possible really… But in all honesty, I don't think they do. It's an interesting children's book story, though," said Percy, looking down at the little boy whose face became crestfallen.

"Oh… I thought… Well if maybe I could find one I could use a stone to talk to my parents," the boy muttered, more to his shoes than to Percy. The owl-eyed woman had said Maximilian and his brother had been through something bad, but Percy hadn't stopped to think what that meant. Percy put a hand on the boy's shoulder and lowered his voice.

"If I had a Resurrection Stone, I'd use it to talk to my brother."

"Is there a way to talk to the dead, you think?" whispered Maximilian.

"Not where they talk back. Some people think the dead can hear us, or watch over us, though."

"Do you think that?"

Percy wasn't sure what he should say to this.. Truthfully, he didn't know if the dead could hear or watch over them. He didn't want to dash the hopes of a child though. He was torn when an idea struck him.

"Are you Muggleborn?"

Maximilian nodded.

"Did you know that ghosts exist?"

He shook his head, eyes wide.

"They do. At Hogwarts there are so many of them, walking right down the corridors/ We have a ghost named Nearly Headless Nick., who's actually rather nice to talk to. I asked him once about the afterlife: what is was like, if the dead could hear us, was heaven real..."

"What did he say?" the boy asked, watching Percy almost hungrily.

"Nick said he didn't know. He had been afraid of death, you see, so he became a ghost without ever going to the afterlife at all."

"Could my parents be ghosts?"

"Only wizards can become ghosts— but Nick didn't seem very happy to be a ghost. He seemed to be saying brave people don't choose to be ghosts. They choose something different."

"What's the 'something different?'"

"Even a ghost of Hogwarts didn't know that. But if a dead person has time to choose to be a ghost or not, then there must besomethingin the afterlife, right?" asked Percy. The boy nodded.

"Is your brother a ghost?"

"No," Percy answered with certainty. "He wasn't afraid of anything."

"My parents were brave. They hid me and my brother from the Deadeaters," said Maximilian. Percy kept his instincts to correct the boy at bay. "But can they hear us, you think?"

"I don't know if they can hear us or not," said Percy, wishing he had a real answer for the little boy. The best he could do was try to impart something of hope instead of just more sad non-answers.

"Iliketo think they hear and watch over us. The story made a good point— We can't be like the second brother who only wanted to talk to the dead. It's better to connect with the living and enjoy life. If the deadcanwatch us, we should probably give them something good to watch."

"Do you give your brother something good to watch?"

The question gave Percy a start. He knew the answer to that was no. He was barely able to just eat dinner and go to bed at the end of his work day. He lived a boring existence long before his brother passed, but it all seemed more hallow now.

"I could do better," Percy answered tightly. "Now, why don't you go on and meet Harry Potter and all his friends. You'll like them a whole lot more than a fuddy duddy like me. Get your little brother and play some fun games with him. Have all the fun with him you can."

Maximillian nodded, looking around for his brother.

"Ok. Thank you, Mr Percy."

With that the boy went off like it was nothing, with the resilience only a child could show. Percy wished he could rebound from a conversation about death so quickly, but instead felt miserably close to crying.

"I like to think they watch over us too." He looked up and saw Audrey softly smiling at him. If he was going to give his brother something good to watch, he couldn't imagine a better person to help him. He'd happily have picnics, feel the cool rainkissed air, and get kicked in the shins by her any day.