Disclaimer: Jo owns it all. I em jus' uh poor ficcy writer. xD

Author's notes: k. I know, I haven't been writing lately. I just kept trying to write it from Ron's POV, and it wasn't happening. So I tried again, in Percy's POV. Guess what? My muse has returned.

Refers to my other fic, Chimeric Idol. Mostly just one chapter, Ridgeline Rager...the only decent part of that story imo.

It is my job. My duty. My responsibility.

I must find them.

I must fool them.

I must make them believe...the old Percy is back.

Somehow my reflection refuses to agree with this, eyeing me with such distaste, from my glasses to my flaming red hair and splatter of freckles. The one time I am messy, in the mornings when no one can see me. My pyjamas are rumpled, my hair is diving off into every direction (my subconscious reminding me, in such a fashion as is not kind at all, of Harry Potter), and my bedcovers are askew. And all the time I am completely entranced with myself. My reflection.

My reflection is me, but is it really? I never liked magicked mirrors. How they would always chide you about certain things. So I have a muggle mirror. And he doesn't chide me about getting to work on time, or eating my breakfast, or remembering to comb my hair just right. He just stares at me with the same disapproving look that I am giving him.

Today is the day. Today is the day that I return. Today is the day that I return to the Burrow.

I hate today already.

I shift my bag uncomfortably under the gazes of my brothers. They glare at me. I stare at the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Fred demands.

"You don't belong here," George growls.

A disapproving cluck sounds from behind them. "Now, now...If Percy says he's back for good, I think we can trust him..."

My heart twists in knots. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I realise I've almost said it aloud and I quickly bite my tongue, substituting my small noise of pain with a loud sniffle. I drag the back of my hand across my eyes, undoubtedly making them redder.

I've mussed my hair a bit. I've cracked the lens in front of my left eye. My eyes are red from rubbing them, not crying, as I am trying to make it look. My clothing is intentionally wrinkled and untidy. I feel utterly disgusting. I know it's necessary.

"I say we kick him back out on his arse."

"With the way he betrayed Harry...the way he betrayed US."

"No. He is your brother and you will respect that he made a decision and a mistake." This from Mother. She finally stands, having fallen to her current seat when I arrived looking as disheveled as I do. She moves around the table, pushing the twins out of the way, to their disapproval. They always were able to catch onto an act better than anyone...but I suppose it's from doing such so much.

She puts her hands on my cheeks, holding my face, pulling my eyes level with hers. I remember the first year back from Hogwarts that I realized I was taller than her. This rather gleeful memory is pushed to the back of my mind. I bite down on my lower lip, again letting my eyes fill with crocodile tears.

"Oh..." she croons softly, pulling me into her soft form. "My baby...My Percy. You've come home..."
I don't know where I am. I only know I am severely disturbed. Already, I've seen a troll's foot (contraband since 1989), a collection of house elf heads (illegal as far as I know), and a portrait that everyone else just dismisses as 'Mrs. Black.'

I have yet to see the quarry.

I am watching Harry and Ron play chess. We all know from the start that Ron will win. He's still the best wizarding chess player I know.

"All right, Remus...Shhh..." I hear this from the door and perk up, turning abruptly.

Bill and Charlie are holding my old teacher, carrying him, wrapped in a blanket and looking positively worse than I do. I can feel my eyes widen with shock. Behind the small group, Mother murmurs comforting words to Lupin. Slowly, carefully they place him next to me.

He reeks of sickness, of dying. I want to vomit. I want to leave.

I want to cry. For real.

He moves like he can barely stand to. "P-percy?" he questions softly, tilting his head to one side, looking far more canid than I feel he has any right to.

I nod, and realize that Bill is making small movements and turn my gaze upon him, then quickly back to Lupin. He's blind. I lift a hand and wave it, testing. He has no reaction. "Yes. It's me, Professor Lupin."

A small smile flickers across his lips. "I've had everyone else quit calling me that. Would you please call me Remus? It makes me feel younger."

I hate you, Lupin. How dare you endear yourself to me? My eyes hurt with the effort to keep tears to myself. "Yessir, Rem-rem-remus..."

I can't stop. This man who was so strong, if not aged, when he taught me, now sits drained and decrepit before me. I let myself fall into tears, covering my face and letting my glasses drop to my lap. It's a moment before I realise Lupin has leaned forward with his hands on my shoulders. I fall into his shoulder and he holds me while I sob.

I will hate myself later for this.

"Poor Percy..." I hear my mother say. "I think this may have been too much for him. First losing his job at the ministry and now seeing one of his favorite teachers in this state."

I feel Lupin nod. "Losing your job is quite stressful, though I think seeing anyone in a condition such as mine would be upsetting." He tries to hold me tighter, though he's far too weak. Instead, I find myself clinging to him.

I won't admit this to anyone. Not even you. This is not me telling you that I might have admired this man. This is not me telling you that I might have a soft spot for him.

When I finally peel myself away from his bony form, I can only gasp softly, the tears having run out. I have never been able to cry for long periods of time. I've never needed to.

I rub my eyes fiercely. This is so wrong. Everything is so wrong...

They didn't tell me. They didn't tell me he would look like this.

They just said he'd look a bit deteriorated. This isn't a bit. This is scary.
I am a coward.

Still I tip-toe along the hallways, searching every door.

I am a coward.

The more I repeat it to myself, the more I swear I am hearing noises. Of course, every time I whip around, expecting to see something, someone, there's no one there. It's all in my imagination.

Luck strikes. I twist the knob with a sweaty palm, the smooth brass handle slipping on the slick surface of my skin. Silently I push open the door.

I'm surprised to find Lupin sitting up, my father talking with him.

I stare.

Father stares back. Lupin leans towards the door, having apparently heard.

"Um...the loo?" I manage to squeak out.

Lupin laughs. "It travels."