Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

This is an AU fic in which Voldemort has won the war. There's going to be a lot of violence in later chapters. This is super dark. Also, there's a lot of things that are said in this chapter that will be explained in more detail later. Anyway, please leave a review!

Percy leaned his head back until it touched the wall, the stone wall that had already scraped most of the skin off of the top of his head. He had no idea how long he'd been there, but he knew that he couldn't possibly take much more. He had to just fade away eventually. Or maybe, he would go so insane that he wouldn't care anymore.

But the more he tried to forget everything, the more he remembered it. He supposed that it was the purpose of the Dementors. He almost wished that he was in Azkaban, where he could just be alone. Where he could suffer in peace.

The door to Percy's cell opened. Percy didn't bother to react. He knew who it was, and he knew why she was there.

Long ago, though Percy had lost all perception of time, they had chosen Bellatrix Lestrange for him. The woman who killed his mother mercilessly in front of her children. It had been a long execution, as Molly was tougher than she looked.

He saw every one of his family members torn apart by different Death Eaters. Seeing Fred die had been enough, but it was nothing compared to hearing the screams of the rest of his family. Ginny had been the worst, simply because she lasted the longest. They had come up with every torture imaginable to torment the Weasleys until their last breaths. But they had deemed that Percy would live.

"Weasley!" Bellatrix shrieked. "Show some respect!"

Percy swung his head so he was staring at the ground. It caused his broken, raw wrists to rub against his chains. He took a deep, shuddering breath, knowing that much more pain awaited him.

Rather than cast one of the endless curses that Percy had become familiar with, Bellatrix transfigured a nearby rock into a mirror. She knew that this was the worst torture of all.

Percy stared at his face. He hardly looked human. The light in his eyes had long since faded, and in its place came a hollow melancholy that shocked even Percy. His face was bruised, bleeding, and his nose was twisted at an angle that surpassed the term "broken". Most of his teeth had been knocked out and were scattered on the floor somewhere. Dried, bloody bile was crusted around his mouth and in his beard.

He was gaunt beyond the meaning of the word. He knew that the only reason he was alive was the cocktail of potions they injected into him daily. He almost couldn't remember the feeling of eating. The only sounds he had made since George died were moans of anguish. He no longer had it in him to scream.

But beyond everything, he recognized the traits that he shared with his family. His curly hair that looked exactly like Molly's but was a darker red than everyone else's. The brown eyes specked with gold that looked exactly like Charlie's, the twins', and Ginny's. The face structure that was, even with it nearly ruined, unmistakably his father's and Ron's.

"Do you know what today is, Weasley?" Bellatrix asked, grabbing his face and forcing him to look into her eyes.

As much as he hated it, Percy was so starved for human contact that he almost enjoyed her painful grip on his cheeks. It felt almost like what his mother used to do when he was crying, except it hurt a thousand times more.

"It's five years since your precious Harry Potter was triumphed over by the Dark Lord. We're going to give you a little surprise, how's that?" The glint in Bellatrix's eyes told Percy that she wouldn't kill him. She knew that it was the one thing he wanted more than anything.

She undid his chains and let him collapse onto the floor. A "medic" came in and prodded Percy with at least a dozen needles, giving him strength to function almost normally. Percy assumed that they would work him half to death again on the treadmills downstairs. Somebody had to keep the Wizarding World going, for there were things that magic just couldn't do. Why not make it the Muggle-borns and blood traitors that were held in the concentration camp?

Instead, Bellatrix chained Percy's hands together and Apparated away. Percy gasped as they materialized in front of the place he wanted to see most, or least. He couldn't really decide which.