Percy shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his forehead. He tried to catch his breath, his lanky body hanging over his folded legs.
A room dimly lit. Leather straps hung from the concrete walls at various angles in various sizes. Sleek stainless steel cabinets lined the far wall, windows allowing sinister bottles of all colors and sizes to be viewed. Steel table decorated in heavy restraints sat ominously in the middle of the room. He moved closer. Felt his body being bent upon the table, strapped down tightly on his stomach. He wanted move, but his body didn't seem to be able to comply. He turned his head and felt a thick hand grip his neck, turning his head so that his eyes faced directly into the gleaming metal. The hand continued to grasp his neck. He wanted to squirm, wanted to run. Then suddenly, the hand lifted. Before he could react, something dropped onto his neck, and all he knew was pain.
He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes closed. His fingers touched the area tentatively before he dropped his hand to the bed. Percy lifted himself off of the sheets and trudged through the corridor into the small kitchen of his apartment. He put the kettle on and slumped into the only chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and realized his glasses were still resting on his bed stand. He reached across the table for a quill and opened the diary that permanently rested on the small, round table. He flipped open the diary to a clean page and wrote the date and time on the top before starting to write. Neat little symbols dotted the page as he wrote with a furious pace.
Then he started to sketch.
Ron shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his forehead. He tried to catch his breath, his lanky body hanging over his folded legs.
"Ron?" A quiet voice echoed in the dark room. Ron turned his head to see Harry, his green eyes alight in the moonlight. "What are you doing awake Harry? You didn't..." Ron trailed off, pulling his knees to his chest. Harry shook his head. "No... I haven't had anything since we left Hogwarts. Not for lack of trying," he guffawed, mimicking Ron's action. "Oh. I guess that's good," Ron remarked. A wry smile cracked on Harry's face. "Not bloody likely." Ron shrugged. The two of them sat in their respective beds in silence. "How come you're awake?" Harry asked. Ron stood up and went to the door, pulling it open slowly with one hand. "Be back," he said simply, spinning around the door and closing it gently.
When the door was closed, he brought his other hand from his side, revealing a leather journal and a quill. He stole down the stairs and slipped into the bathroom. Closing the door and locking it, he sat down on the toilet and flipped open the book. He skipped past Percy's writings and gave several pages between his last entry. He brushed the feather of the quill across the page and chicken scratch appeared beneath the quill. His chicken scratch. He flipped the next couple of pages and found a blank one. He began to write and then, to sketch.
The first thing Harry did when he woke up was look for Ron. He wasn't in his bed. He got dressed slowly before creeping out the door and down the many flights of stairs.
There was no one at the kitchen table, which further surprised him. He check the clock- Mr and Mrs. Weasley's hands pointed to work. The door behind him creaked open and Harry spun on his heels, his wand at the ready. Neville stood in the doorway, wearing jeans, dragon hide gloves and a frown. "Harry," was all he said before breezing past him to the icebox. Harry turned to follow. "Neville, I'm sorry for what I said last night," Harry said quietly. "Hah! I bet you are. Did Ron tell you to say that?" Neville chuckled maliciously. Harry looked at Neville strangely. Neville pulled a pitcher of lemonade and plonked it onto the table. He walked over to the cabinets and started opening them, searching for glasses. "The one all the way to the right," Harry pointed out softly, opening the correct cabinet. "Look Neville, I've just been stressed. I didn't mean to take it out on you," he tried again. Neville reached across and plucked 4 glasses from the shelf, grabbing a sheet pan and placing all five of the items on it. He put his hands on the table and huffed. "You know, Harry. You aren't the only one in this mess. I know that you're the main character in this, but... God, I don't know, Harry. Make a little allowance for the rest of us in the anger and sorrow department, will you?" Harry leaned against the sink.
"Did you know we have the same birthday?" Harry said suddenly. Neville lifted his head and looked at Harry, who was focused on the ceiling. "No. July 31st?" Neville asked. Harry nodded. "The prophecy... the one from the Department on Mysteries... it wasn't specific, you know. Born as the 7th months wanes. It could have been you, you know. The main character. The Boy Who Lived." Harry's voice was empty of malice, but he kept looking at the ceiling. "All this summer I wondered. What if he had chosen you?" Harry looked down and finally looked at Neville. He had found a seat and was pale. He was focused on the pitcher. "We'd... we'd all be dead. I...," he looked up at Harry, confusion in his watery blue eyes. "But then I really thought about it. And even though... even though Sirius's death..." Harry stopped, turning his attention back up to the ceiling. "It couldn't be nearly as bad as visiting your parents every year and seeing them," he finished.
There was a silence between them, Neville staring at the table, Harry staring at the ceiling. "You're right. But I'm not greedy. You can get your knocks in against Bellatrix Lestrange. Just so long as I get to kill her." Harry's eyes jolted forward. Neville looked up. "I'm sorry. We weren't talking about her, were we," Neville said coldly and stood up. He walked in front of Harry and stopped. "Sometimes, I wondered too. What would it be like to have my parents dead, to have the friends you do, to have the obvious sheer ability you have. But I never took it out on you. Life deals us all rough hands in some way or another. I'm generally useless at spells, you've got a psychopath after you. Sucks for both of us," Neville said bluntly. He glared at Harry who glared back.
"Cheer up, Harry. It could be worse," Neville said, suddenly cheerful, and punched Harry's shoulder. He walked back to the table and picked up the tray. "Grab a glass, come help us out, alright?" Neville chirped and kicked open the door. Harry just sort of looked at him as Neville backed through the door. "Look, your forgiven, just don't do it again, right? Get a cup and come on." Harry matched his small smile and, picking up a green mug, followed him out.
Harry followed Neville out around the house into a large shed. Boxes and boxes of stuff littered the yard, Hermione and Ron sitting next to them fiddling with some albums. Ginny tossed a chicken that had gotten into the shed. "Harry!" Hermione called as she noticed Neville's companion. She stood up and ran over, giving him a hug. "Hey Hermione," he replied and then was caught up in the arms of Ginny. "What are you guys doing?" he asked, picking through a box of stuffed animals. The three of them looked at Ron. He shrugged. "Alright Harry, sit down. Take a look at this." Ron pulled the diary from his back pocket. He flipped open to the page with Tom Riddle's picture on it and handed it to Harry. Who promptly dropped it. Harry whipped out his wand and was in the middle of saying an obliteration spell, before Ron grabbed his wand out of his hand and kicked the diary over. "Relax Harry. It's not evil. But at least we got a second confirmation on his identity. In any case, this is Percy's diary. We found it when we were cleaning out his room for Neville. This one, he drew the day after the Tri Wizard Tournament. This one was a few days later," Ron added, picking up the book and flipping two pages over. And then three more over. "There are a few pictures that are just random- girls and guys doing mundane things. But then there is this." Ron showed him the last page of Percy's and Harry noted the date.
"Welcome to the confusion. Were looking through his stuff," Ginny smiled and handed him a box. "I mean, it's obvious that Percy was scared of You Know Who. Who isn't? But the symbols? The pictures? What's going on?" she added, sitting down and picking through a box of 3rd year transfiguration assignments. Harry looked at the mess quizzically. "Who cares?" he asked. Ron glared at him. "He didn't leave because he thought we were rubbish. He left because of something else. You going to help or not?" Hermione slid behind Ron with a photo album. "It can't be his childhood. Look at all these pictures. Happy 3 year old Percy. Happy Percy putting a mudpie in Charlie's hair. Whatever it is, it must have been recent," she commented, showing Ron the pictures.
"RONALD! GINEVRA! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!!" Five heads spun around to meet an infuriated Molly Weasley. Ginny scooted to her mom and smiled sweetly. "Neville and Harry needed to work out some aggression so we figured we'd clean out the shed," she replied, grabbing her mother's hand. "Likely story," she sniffed. She looked over at Ron. "We've got a history project that we need to visit the Ministry Archives for," Hermione said suddenly. "And we were hoping that maybe if we... you know... cleaned out the shed," she added tentatively. Ron picked it up. "Which you've been asking Dad to do for ages; we were hoping that you'd let us go out to dinner in Diagon Alley afterwards," Ron finished with a brilliant smile and puppy dog eyes. "We haven't out of the house in ages, Mum," Ginny added, her eyes nearly glistening. Molly looked over at her kids with a suspicious eyes. "Maybe for lunch," she said warily before giving an entirely different look to Hermione. "When do you need to go to the archives, dear? I know you like to get your work done early- a habit I wish you'd pass on to my children," she finished, a snooty smile on her face. She started walking back into the house. "Come along, Ginny. You can't help get lunch together," she exclaimed, dragging a smiling Ginny into the house.
"Have I told you lately that you're absolutely brilliant?" Ron nudged Hermione. She turned red. "Yes, but I don't tire of hearing it," she shot back, a wide smile on her face. A devious look appeared on her face. "Of course, you do know that you'll actually have to do some archival research while you're there." Ron's face faltered. "I'm sure Professor Binns would love it if you included some historical records in your essay," she teased. "If I passed the bloody class, you mean," Ron grumbled back, before picking up a box. "Let's put all this stuff back- we can go through it after we get back tomorrow," Ron decided, handing Neville a box before taking the one out of Harry's hands.
"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione whispered. Harry turned to her. "I don't want to talk about it," he replied abruptly. "Well, aren't you going to ask how I am." Hermione's voice had turned threatening. Harry remembered Lupin pulling out a letter from Hermione. Ron hadn't heard from her either. "How are you, Hermione?" he asked, a bit put off. Hermione cocked her head and her hips. She stared hard at Harry, before walking right past him towards the house. Harry blinked. "Things have changed Harry. You didn't expect all of us to stay the same, did you?" Suddenly, Ron was behind him, watching her go. Harry felt his stomach dropped a bit. His actions strike again. His look turned dour. "No, I suppose not." Ron clapped his shoulder and presently, a crash was heard from the shed. "I'm alright!" Neville's voice floated to them. Ron laughed. "Remember what I said about a fist through the head, Harry. Tell mum we'll be there in a bit," Ron chuckled as he ran back over to the shed. Harry looked over at Ron's disappearing figure. Things had changed.
When Harry walked into the room, his hand was grabbed by a mysterious figure and pulled into the living room. "Right, Harry. You just stand there," she grinned maliciously. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were sitting down on the couch and Harry noticed that the short table was pushed against the stairs. "So, person comes out you from the back, right?" Hermione turned around and position Harry's hands around her mouth. Harry looked confused, but not for long. Hermione made like she was going to elbow him in the ribs, so when Harry went to block, she ripped his hand from her mouth and twisted it. Harry's body followed, sending him shooting forward and around, landing with a thunk on his back. "See, it's all about using a person's body weight against him. You alright, Harry?" she offered a hand, that evil grin still printed on her face. He looked over and saw Ron and Neville grinning from the entrance into the kitchen. "Hellfire..." he groaned, but took the hand.
Author's Notes: I love you all, I love you all. Hopefully this has further wet your Percy appetite. Forgive the Harry interpretation- I know it's not the best ever. Hopefully, writing him as a character will become better :) Thanks again to Filler Bunny Rox, sibbo, db (you guys rock!) and cooldot for making me feel special!