Anatomy of a Death Eater Chapter 5: Guilt, a harry potter fanfic

DISCLAIMER: Must I endlessly repeat myself? Must I really? Fine. I don't own any of this stuff. JK Rowlings, I humbly thank you. :::bows:::

CHAPTER FIVE

GUILT

He was leaning back in his chair with his feet on the window sill. He had a lovely view from his office. All of London was stretched out before him. He loved to lean out sometimes, feel the smog kiss his face, and watch the Muggles walk right through the building without suspecting a thing. Someday he would have to ask how that sort of magic was maintained (stupid, childish questions!).

"GEORGE!"

Percy sat straight up. Charlie shot up from the cot next to him, Bill on his other side, too weak to sit up.

(where am i?)

Display cases and shelves of merchandise all around- the joke shop.

(again. not again)

Someone- was it Fred? -wailing, crying, panicking from somewhere else-.

"GEORGE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG? TELL ME WHAT IS WRONG!"

Charlie bolted from the room, still in his boxer shorts. Percy started to follow, but looked down on himself and dug around in his suitcase for his robe-

"GEORGE GET UP! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! I CAN'T BREATHE! THIS IS NOT FUNNY GEORGE YOU GET UP RIGHT NOW!"

What the hell was he doing, searching for his robe when Fred's screaming was splitting his ears? Good God what was wrong? He thought he heard choking... was someone choking? Fred was choking- how could he choke like that, and still be screaming?

(Again and again and again and again and again..).

"Fred, give him to me!" He heard Charlie say, his normally gruff voice high and panic-stricken.

"No! This isn't funny George YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME-"

"FRED, LET ME SEE HIM!"

"NO! Leave off... he'll be fine. He's only playing a horrible joke. He'll be fine soon enough..."

Percy found his robe and wrapped it around his body, hugging himself. His feet did not move. Why would his feet not move? (always such a coward)

"What's going on?" Bill asked weakly, turning his head to Percy. "Go see what's wrong."

"HE'S ONLY PLAYING A JOKE!"

"HE'S GOT SOMETHING IN HIS THROAT! FRED LET GO, LET ME SEE!"

Something in his throat... Percy was stuck where he was. He would not move.

(why wouldn't you move?)

As sticky and foul tasting as tar...

(what have i done?)

(Again and again and again and again and again and again...)

"NOOOOOO!" someone, an unfamiliar voice had shrieked.

(was that me? did i scream?)

Bill was dragging himself up- he was standing- he was dragging Percy into the stockroom-

(complimentary sample of screaming gumballs: ruined)

His mother and father, pale with shock, restraining Fred on one side of the big cauldron. He was fighting madly to get to his twin. Charlie had George over his knee- his hand was deep in George's mouth- he was pulling mounds and mounds of sticky black goo out of George's throat-

(weasley wizard wheezes grand opening: cancelled)

George was blue. His eyes were open and still alive, still seeing. They were full of fear.

(no matter what you'll never forget that look, that fear, again and again and again and again and again...)

"HE'S FINE! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

More and more of the black stuff. It seemed like it was never ending (like your guilt). More and more and more and more, and George was still not breathing. Charlie flipped him over and beat him on the back.

"I NEED SMALLER HANDS!" Charlie cried. He was shaking, crying, panicking- covered in the black goo. "Percy! Percy, come here!"

Percy's face was frozen in shock (cowardice). He shook his head no.

Fred howled- his mother and father still had him tight-

"PERCY I NEED YOUR HELP! COME HERE NOW!"

Percy had been too frightened (you're so weak)- frightened of the blue body of George, now convulsing, clawing at his throat, clawing at Charlie-

Percy hadn't realized that Bill had been leaning on him, but felt the absence of his weight as he went forward to help Charlie and George. Percy felt hope now. Bill was long and thin, his fingers were long and thin- surely he could reach down George's throat and dig out what was obstructing it.

(no hope)

Percy's fingers were also very long and very thin- (why didn't i?) why wasn't he helping? Charlie and Bill were now digging furiously together. There was a pile of goo next to them now, as big as ten or twelve dizzy garden gnomes...

(why didn't I help?)

Why didn't Charlie and Bill use their wands? Why didn't they use their goddamn wands? This wasn't supposed to happen! It was only suppose to stick to their jaws! This wasn't suppose to happen- why didn't he tell them? He only needs a certain potion George only needs a certain potion surely there must be a potion it'll break the goo right up and he will breathe again- he'll tell. He'll tell and I'll rot in Azkaban (you deserve it, and someday you will). He'll tell and my family will hate me. Everyone will hate me...it was only supposed to taste bad it was only supposed to be sticky and taste bad saying something! Say something! Do something!

He said nothing.

He did nothing.

What he did had been done.

Again and again and again and again and again...

George was long dead before Charlie and Bill gave up, covered head to toe in the black goo. It was everywhere. All over the room, still bubbling thickly out of George's throat.

In his parents shock, Fred was released to run to his twin.

"George! You've scared us all shitless, you can get up, now. GET UP, GEORGIE, PLEASE WAKE UP!"

Over Fred's anguish, his begging, his pleading- Percy confessed, again and again and again and again...

He jerked awake.

The wait was killing him (you deserve it). He reached around to his desk and grabbed a quill and paper. His hands were shaking as he doodled: mostly arrows, pointing round and round in circles, and bubbled question marks. It was all he ever drew. The only explanation he could offer (as if anyone would care to ask) was that he was not the artistic type.

After a few minutes he threw the paper and quill aside and swiveled around to face his desk, drumming his fingers, tugging at his already receding hairline (I can't stand it).

From a tiny, intricately decorated glass box he pinched a small amount of powder and threw it on the candle that doubled as a paper weight. "Margaret!"

The plain face of his secretary appeared in the flames, which had doubled in size. "Yes, sir?"

"Is there a Mr. Tromedlov out there?"

"I don't know sir. You've got several people waiting for you. What does he look like? A Russian fellow, I would assume, by the sound of his last name?"

"Er- yes, he's Russian, but you couldn't tell to look at him- never mind, Margaret, thank you."

"Yes, but sir, a Mr. Redland would like to see you- so would a Mr. Stromberg- they say it's very import-"

Percy waved the flame away and pushed his glasses up over his forehead. He rubbed his eyes, then buried his head in his arms, groaning. As a frustrated afterthought, he swiped the candle and a pile of papers off his desk.

"Of course it's very important. It's always very-"

"-Hello, Minister Weasley," said a voice.

Percy jumped and turned to look at the black cloaked figure, fear boiling inside him. He would never get used to him (no room for thoughts like this!). "Hello, Mas- Mr. Tromedlov."

The man smiled, sitting opposite him, on the other side of the desk. "How's work, my boy?"

"Hectic."

"It's been done. It's all done."

"Good. Thank you, sir."

"I understand you wish to speak to me?"

"Yes, but it can certainly wait-" Percy grew very cold. He saw the look in his Master's face. He'd stolen the body of a fairly good looking man, dark features and nice teeth- but the eyes were so scary sometimes (i am a failure- it's a wonder my Master does anything for me). Why was he changing his mind? Why had he humbly asked his Master to see him, just to tell him it could wait? The irritation in his Master's scary eyes was certainly justified. "-I'm sorry (no room for apologies, you fool!), I mean, I'm-"

Mr. Tromedlov laughed. "Ah, Percy, stop blubbering. What is it that you wish to ask me?"

Percy nodded (you should feel better now). "Sir..."

"Hurry up, Minister. I've got many things that must be done."

"With the full moon, sir?"

The eyes were dangerously annoyed. "What is it that you want, Minister Weasley?"

"Can you (admitting weakness- damn it, can you do nothing right?) take away my nightmares?"

His Master frowned.

"You have nightmares? Like a little boy, you have nightmares?"

Percy hung his head. "I see it, over and over again. I have nightmares even when I am awake. I know what you've done has fixed-"

"DO YOU WET YOURSELF?" his Master roared angrily, "DO YOU WET THE BED WHEN YOU HAVE NIGHTMARES, LIKE A WEAK LITTLE BOY? Why do you tell me this, little boy, why?"

"Because I want them to end!" (don't you cry, don't you fucking cry. he'll kill you if you cry oh but i want to die i want to die i want to die i deserve to die...)

"Mr. Weasley!" cried Margaret from outside the door, "Are you alright in there?"

"Yes- yes, go away, please, I'm fine," Percy called to her, disgusted by the thinness of his own voice.

"Mr. Stromberg insists on coming in, sir. He says that the price of Talon of Dragon has gone up nearly forty percent in the last-"

"SEND HIM AWAY!" Percy ordered, "I'm terribly busy!"

With Margaret silenced, he turned back to his Master, who had stood and was glaring down at him. "You are pathetic, Percy."

"I know that, Master."

"I have done a lot for you. Too much. You know that, don't you?"

(what about what i have done for you?) "Yes, Master. Far too much, Master."

"I will not take away your nightmares, understand?"

"I understand, Master."

"You'll learn to be a man, and get rid of them yourself. There is no room for guilt, is there, Percy?"

"There is no room for guilt, Master."

"A man with a conscience cannot gain power."

"A man with a conscience cannot gain power, Master."

(who ever said i wanted power?)

"Especially a guilty conscience. Keep telling yourself that, and perhaps after a few hundred times you'll start to believe it." Voldemort stood and laughed down at Percy, shaking his head, and was gone.

(i never wanted this)

"It's alright," Percy told himself aloud, "It's alright now. He said it's been done. It's fixed. I have nothing to feel guilty about anymore. Nothing. Nothing to feel guilty about, nothing at all..."

"GEORGE!"

Well, it says right in the summary: Rated R for general creepiness. **REVIEW**, please. Gracias! :)