Written for Writer's Month 2022. Prompt #1: Promise.
I hope you like this. All feedback is welcome and appreciated. Happy reading!
He was a boy of promise. From the early days of his childhood, it was obvious to all who knew him. Intelligent, responsible, hardworking. Eager to go above and beyond anything expected from a child his age. A rising star.
Born in a family of many children, he learnt early on what it meant to compete for the attention and praise of other people. His parents never did it on purpose, of course, but with so many children it was bound to happen – attention went to those who fought for it. It was all a game, a competition with no rules except one – play your strongest cards and get to the prize, the recognition of being special, of sticking out in the crowd.
He was a good player. Not a great one, but good nonetheless. He knew how to recognise the best opportunities, the most effective moments in which to make his moves. He knew his strengths, and played accordingly, getting the most out of them. He did everything he could in order to get the recognition he craved.
He began when he was young, while the only people he sought to impress were his parents. Learning to read quickly, having the best penmanship, being helpful and polite. Later on, he went on to Hogwarts and kept on doing the same. Always on time, taking meticulous care of his responsibilities. Seated in the front row, with an answer ready for every question the teacher might ask, and all the while taking precise, detailed notes. Top student of the year. Prefect. Head Boy. Everyone kept on praising him and declaring their pride over his achievements, and although he may not have been as funny, friendly or laidback as his older brothers, he was still recognised. He had played the game well.
Years passed, and his time at Hogwarts came to an end. He went on to get an apprenticeship at the Ministry, working hard in an attempt to climb the career ladder. He spent the warm, sunny days of his first summer after graduation writing report after report for obscure, inconsequential things no one wanted to pay attention to. It wasn't the important, fancy work people usually associated with working at the Ministry, but it was a start. After all, his father had been working at the Ministry for years, and his work didn't look any more important or exciting.
Of course, his brothers didn't share his opinion. While they considered their father's work worthy, respectable – noble, even – they ridiculed his at every turn. It was hurtful; he had put so much into it, giving it his all, doing everything in his power to get there, and in the end, he was left without any respect or support from his siblings. It was always "Percy the prat", or "Percy the bore", or "Percy with a giant stick up his butt". All because he, unlike some other people, chose to be responsible.
Well, at least work was going well.
She was a girl of promise – that much was sure even back in the days when she was three and learnt to count to 100 in a day. Her mind was always acquiring new knowledge, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity at every waking moment. There was no way she'd ever get tired – always trying to see more, find more, know more. It was a gnawing hunger in her gut, and one her parents happily fed, giving her all the support and help in her endeavours. They gave her mind the chance to grow, and she took it with all her might.
When the time came for her to start going to school, she already knew way more than many children years older than her did. The teachers quickly caught on to her great intellect and strong wish to improve. They have her extra work, explained things other children couldn't even begin to comprehend, showered her with appreciation and praise. She didn't connect with her peers so well – she was shy and they didn't understand her willingness to learn – but she excelled in her work.
She felt a bit of sadness at being friendless, but didn't let it consume her, having enough love and attention provided by her parents. Being an only child, she never had to compete for their time – she was their most important thing in the universe, and they always had time to spend with her. She was a happy child, and her future looked bright.
A few years went by. She went on to conquer many academic pursuits, cementing the role of the girl wonder in the eyes of her teachers. Unfortunately, while her teachers grew fonder of her with time, her classmates were doing just the opposite. They made fun of her, took her things, called her names. With each passing day she felt more and more keenly that the way they ignored her back when she was younger was actually good. Her parents went to her school in an attempt to resolve the problem; the teachers tried to help, but no one could keep her classmates under control all the time – things were getting worse and worse.
Her eleventh birthday came, and with it a huge surprise. A stern looking lady came knocking on the door of their home. As soon as she was in their living room, she began to speak of magic, charms and potions and a boarding school in Scotland. She was quick and efficient in her explanations, obviously experienced in making people believe in the seemingly unlikely story; yet, she was considerate, and even friendly, in her own no-nonsense way. It took some time for them to believe her words, but eventually they did. And so she was set to go to Hogwarts next September.
Time went by very quickly, and soon it was time for her to catch the train for her new school. She said goodbye to her parents, took her trunk to the train and embarked on the journey the new chapter of her life.
Her life at Hogwarts, and in Gryffindor in particular, was incredible. She had so many more opportunities to progress and shine there than she did at her old school. Having been oblivious to magic for most of her life, and having got the majority of her knowledge about the wizarding world from books and not first-hand experience, she couldn't get enough of the myriad of fantastic things going on around her – she soaked in it all, lapping up every little tidbit of information she could get her hands o. She thirsted for knowledge, she yearned for it with a burning passion, and it quickly made her look good in the eyes of most professors. The staff room could often be seen buzzing with talk of "that brilliant Muggleborn girl, the brightest witch of her age" – her future was sure to be dazzlingly bright.
Her years at Hogwarts ended up being filled with much knowledge, but also many adventures, and a few true friendships. Along the way she could feel her life slowly getting way different from the one she used to lead. At the very beginning the differences were subtle, and mostly positive – she had friends, she used her free time for fun and not only learning, she became a bit less shy and a bit more outspoken. It was a nice development, and she enjoyed it.
However, soon enough the changes turned a bit darker. Dangerous quests, sneaking behind teachers' backs, breaking the rules and risking expulsion. Stealing. Lying – both to her teachers, and to her parents. Her life was getting out of hand, and she was left feeling more and more confused and adrift with every passing day, losing control of it all.
Well, at least she was keeping up with her schoolwork.
Working at the Ministry was hard. It required strong work ethics, advanced time management skills, and the capability to focus really well – because, by Merlin, it could be dull. So much of the work he was supposed to do was mindless paperwork, which seemed to be designed specifically with the intent of making him go mad with frustration and boredom.
Up until recently he had been spending all his working hours doing the irritating, quite unimportant work that no one holding a higher position than him could be bothered to do. However, things had changed in the past few weeks, ever since the Tri-Wizard tournament began. His boss had got ill, and it had been up to him to make sure that no problems would arise from his absence. While the added responsibilities were a way for him to do something other than the dull reports he had been working on ever since he got the job, they also put a huge strain on him, making him go almost crazy with the stress and pressure.
By the end of the blasted tournament he was stretched too thin and nearing the end of his rope. At the very least he expected recognition from the department for a bog well done, if not a promotion as well. However, things blew up in a spectacular way – it turned out his boss had been under a controlling curse for months without him noticing, which didn't really make him a model employee. In light of such developments he had resigned himself to having had his career set back, if not completely ruined.
Just as he had come to terms with it, it all turned upside down once more. Apparently, his running of the department left an overall good impression after all – he was offered the post of Assistant Minister! Finally, someone had seen his hard work and it paid off. He couldn't wait to tell his parents.
He should have known it couldn't be that good. Really, he should have expected something bad to happen. Still, it caught his unawares.
Did you really think you were chosen because of the quality of your work?
They just want you to spy on us.
How can you be so stupid and blind?
Their family broke that evening, with him being the only one on his side of the crack. His heart broke as well; there were too many cracks to count there.
He knew his family didn't really think the best of him – he had known for a long time. There had always been someone who shone more brightly, who did better things than he did – he was never going to be the favourite, and he had made his peace with that. But to see how stupid they thought he was, how inept, how traitorous... Did they really think he hadn't earned what he got? Did they really think he had no merit? Did they... did they really think he'd spy on them, his own family, just because of a job?
He had to leave. The pain was too strong, and his heart was too beaten up. The lack of faith they all had for him was an obvious sign – he did not belong there. With the world he thought he knew broken and turned to ash, he turned around and left the only home he'd ever known.
The life she had known was gone. Everything she knew about herself, everything that defined her for who she was, had been ruined and tossed aside. Lost. Just as she was.
She quit school. Education being the most important thing in her life became a distant echo of the past, drowned in the roaring earthquake of the life she was living.
Her parents had no idea she existed anymore. After years of hiding and lying about the stuff going on in the magical world for fear of them forbidding her to go back, this was the greatest lie – making them think they didn't have a daughter. Making them think their names were not the ones they knew, and having them go to the other side of the world. It was all for their protection, their safety – however, it felt like betrayal. It felt like she had changed too much, become a whole different person – and she sometimes wondered if it was a good thing.
Her life had become a stretch of wandering around the country, hiding from the Death Eaters while trying to work out a foggy scavenger hunt made by two of the strongest wizards of their age. The best part – one of them was dead, and the other impossible to kill. Perfect.
They were just teenagers. Three kids trying to make sense of old legends and fairytales, in a desperate attempt to save the world. They were hungry. Lonely. Lost. And yet, it was up to them to win a war which began before they were even born.
His new job was a good one – he finally dealt with important stuff, and his skills were valued. The split with his family was a blemish on his happiness, of course – a huge one – but all in all, he was doing well. His dreams were coming true, and if his family didn't believe in him – well, their loss. At least that was what he tried to tell himself every day.
His brother's wedding came around, and he got an invite. He even considered going – after all, it was a once in a lifetime occurrence for his brother, a very special day – but he decided against it. It was an important day – too important to be tainted by the cold atmosphere his presence would cause for the rest of the family.
The day of the wedding came and he woke up feeling like something big was going to happen. Of course something big is going to happen, only you won't be there to see it. Shaking off the pang of sorrow that went through him at that, he went to work.
In the beginning, it looked like an ordinary day. Paperwork, meetings, going up and down the floors of the Ministry... However, it all took a turn for the worst.
His boss was dead. The Ministry, the one place he considered safe, was attacked by the Death Eaters. And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back – had been for a long time. His family was right; Dumbledore had been right – and he was a fool. And now he was trapped.
His new boss was... He was fooled once, back with Mr Crouch – he wouldn't fall for the same trick again. His boss was Imperioused, and the way he ran the Ministry left little doubt about the identity of the caster, or at least his allegiances. The way the Ministry worked was becoming openly blood purist – terrorist, to be exact. It was clearly visible that it had become a simple tool in the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers.
And the worst thing... The worst thing was that he couldn't get out now. If he so much as tried to contact his family, they would all be in even more danger – including him. He had no other option but to stay where he was and try to do what he could from there.
He spent the following months playing the paperwork so as many people as possible didn't have to face the consequences for "stealing magic from real wizards". Really, could someone actually believe that? If it weren't so terrifyingly deadly for so many people the idea would have been amusing – anyone with the most rudimentary knowledge of Magical Theory knew it wasn't possible to "steal magic". If nothing else, pureblood families would have used such a process to deal with the shameful Squibs in their lines.
He also tried to pass some inside information to the resistance movement – not too much, so it wouldn't be traced back to him, but enough to at least make a difference. He reached out to Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, whom he thought he could trust – after all, the man himself didn't want to make his role in the resistance well known either. It was difficult at first to convince him to do it at all, but eventually they fell into a rhythm and did their part of the job.
Months passed, and the war kept getting worse. His family was in the thick of it – his sister at Hogwarts run by Death Eaters; his brother allegedly sick at home (he wasn't buying it – most probably he was somewhere with Harry Potter); the rest of his brothers and his parents working as Order members and fighting.
He was also getting more and more stressed with all the spying – it was helpful, but he kept thinking that the information he passed would be his last, that they would catch him. And he missed his family. So when Aberforth let him know a battle was coming at Hogwarts, he rushed there as fast as he could. This war needed to end.
They were moving all over the country, carrying all their belongings in a small purse. No home but a tent; no meal but what they managed to make with edible stuff found in the woods of food got in a rare trip to the grocery store. Chanting protective spells had become an almost daily ritual, and they spent more time disguised than looking like themselves.
As weeks passed and their mission had yet to yield significant results, they began to fight. Soon enough, one of them left the other two, and their task became all the more difficult to bear. They weren't together anymore, and there were almost no clues to help them succeed. It was hard, and dangerous, and many times she wondered what would have happened had she never known of the wizarding world. She didn't exactly regret it – magic made her life so much better in so many ways – but oftentimes, she wondered.
Eventually, they got back together, and their search started picking up pace. Then they got kidnapped. Tortured. Lost a friend. And gained a clue. Soon enough, they were breaking into one of the most heavily guarded and secured buildings in Wizarding Britain, riding on a dragon's back and barely staying alive.
Before long, it became apparent that the only way to finish their quest was to go to Hogwarts. They managed to get inside and start their search; along the way, they saw what the beloved school had turned into – a prison guarded by Death Eaters, where pain and sorrow permeated the very air they breathed.
Unfortunately, their arrival hadn't passed unnoticed, and soon enough it became apparent that a battle would take place at Hogwarts. Her heart thumped in fear, but also in resolve – this war was coming to an end. And they were going to win, or die trying.
He finally saw his family – most of them, at least. He apologised to them, trying to make things right – after all, even if he had good reason to leave, he had done some awful things to them later. And even if he hadn't, it was neither the time nor the place to go over it all – time was of the essence, and he wouldn't imagine having another fight with them right before the battle. They were all there, and talking to each other – it would have to be enough for now.
None too soon the battle began. Spells were flying around his ears, and pieces of debris were falling around from everywhere. It was a good thing the Death Eaters wore their trademark robes – if that wasn't the case it would be difficult to recognise friend from foe.
Unfortunately, not all foes were Death Eaters – at least, not officially. His boss, for starters. It was oddly liberating to confront the man in a duel, after all the covert work of leaking information for the past few months. He felt good, making the man know he never was on his side.
The Minister tumbled down, felled by his curse – caught unawares by the joking resignation he gave him. After defeating the man he turned around to see his brother smile and marvel at him telling a joke, when the unimaginable happened. A wall came crashing down, and his brother followed it down. Eyes glazed, the smile frozen on his face – he was dead.
His world came crashing down. After all this time, finally with his family again, only to lose one of them the same day. Could fate really be that cruel? He carried his brother – the body of his little brother – to an alcove, behind an armour suit, wiped his tears and went back into the raging inferno.
The rest of the battle was a blur. They fought; many lives were lost. The fire ceased for an hour, and he had to watch his family crumble beneath the weight of the loss of one of their own. Harry Potter was gone, then came back – once again, alive from the dead. Why couldn't his brother get the same pass, once?
In the end, they won – at least that was what they all were supposed to believe. Voldemort was dead, and a great many of his Death Eaters followed. Still, as much as the fact should have brought them all relief and joy, it was shadowed by the heavy cloud of grief. Many lives were lost – even children died in the battle. And the win, the end of the war, as beautiful as it sounded once, looked like a great disappointment.
It was all coming to an end. One way or another, it would all be over today – the tension could be felt in the air. Their quest was coming to an end – they had all the Horcruxes but one, and the last one would come to them. They managed to destroy the rest, and get all that closer to the finish line. Voldemort was going down tonight.
She and Ron got together, a kiss shared in the moment of the world coming to an end. Had the circumstances been different they might have waited more, gone slower, tried to see if they really belonged together – but there was no time, and this could have been their last chance. The kiss wasn't gentle and romantic; nothing like what she imagined her first kiss would be. It was hungry, and desperate, and tinged with fear of not having a chance for more. It was an "I love you" with a "goodbye" just in case.
The battle was a vicious one. So many people risking their lives, trying to defend the world they believed in. Rubble was flying everywhere, and bright spell lights zoomed around her head. It was bloody and horrifying; the most gruesome portrayal of the human race. And then, it stopped.
An hour of ceasefire came – a ploy to get Harry to surrender. And despite it being an obvious trap, he left them and went. And the next time she saw him, Hagrid was carrying his body. She felt herself break; her heart shattered and she was losing the ground beneath her feet. After everything that happened, after everything they'd gone through, he was gone. It was over.
And then, by a miracle he came back from the dead, surviving the final call once more. A final duel was had between him and Voldemort, and the man who caused so much terror and grief was finally dead. They had won. It was over.
His family was trying to cope, but it was hard. Losing one of their own was the greatest fear of all of them, and it had come true. It was a nightmare, and the morning just wouldn't come.
He was back at the Burrow, staying with them – they all needed to see each other alive, remind themselves that the rest of them survived. Yet, he felt he didn't belong there – not really. The rift between him and his family was too wide, and none of them were in any shape to try and repair the damages. He was an outsider, a guest in the home he grew up in and left, it seemed, a lifetime ago.
She tracked down her parents and restored their memories. Tried to explain why she did it, and how necessary it was. Expectedly, they were angry, and hurt – how could she have hidden it all from them? They couldn't recognise the girl their daughter used to be – the one who did all that was a stranger to them. She had changed too much, and she kept it all from them, and as much as they loved her, as much as they were relieved she was alive and well, it wasn't the same. Something between them was broken.
Life promised them so much – their future looked blindingly bright. But promises can be broken, and every light can die out. They were left standing in the ashes of broken dreams and lost families, wondering where it all went wrong. They had both been children of promise – and yet their lives lay broken on their feet. After all, promises were a fool's comfort – nothing more.
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