Chapter Six

Molly Weasley had been having an absolutely awful day. That morning, she found it so hard not to look into Percy's (empty) room. She broke down at any mention of little Percy—and there were plenty of them today. That morning, when she'd been doing the laundry, she'd found his tiny robes. When she was polishing the clock, she'd found her eyes staring at where his hand was flickering between Lost, Missing and now, Mortal Peril. When she'd been cleaning the twins' room, she'd found little torn bits of Percy's books. Speaking of the twins, they'd had been so silent these days. Ron and Ginny was causing more havoc than they were.

Molly couldn't help it. Percy was her child, and he wasn't at home. He was out in those dark woods all by himself. That was bad enough without Alec Lestrange's capture and the implications that Percy was in the scene made her uneasy and trepid about what might have happened to her child. Her ten-year-old child.

As she was cleaning out the pantry and cupboards a few days ago to quell her nerves, she found herself relieved to find large tubes of gingersnaps, sandwiches, tarts and chocolate bars missing from the kitchen. Molly hoped to Merlin that Percy was the one that took them. She'd also kept a small hope that he had stolen some galleons and sickles from his brothers, or his father. Sometimes, she even wished that he was safe and happy – anything but injured, harmed and starved.

Days had passed.

The more days he'd been missing, the more it seemed like he was something she imagined – not a person, but something less… something gone.

Molly was not able to stay at home today. She had gotten an old friend, Sally, to look after little Ron, Ginny and the twins when she was at the Ministry with Arthur for today. She did not want to sit at home when one of her children might be potentially seriously injured. She did not expect the crying, the breaking down and the thoughts of inadequacy to follow her into the Auror's office, haunting her in every waking moment just like they had been in the Burrow.

This was her ten-year-old child, and he wasn't safe at home, in her arms, in his bed…happy.

It was Percy's birthday tomorrow.

WHEN Bill came in that afternoon, Molly was startled at how terrible he looked. He looked like he had been attacked (or from her experience, playing an intense game of Quidditch). His robes were askew, his hair awry, his face littered with bruises and a large cut resting on his upper lip. Bill looked absolutely exhausted, and yet somehow, he didn't draw any attention to his injuries. Then Penelope emerged from behind his robes, the tuft of golden hair. She looked just like Claire used to at that age. Molly watched Ayden and Penelope reunite and couldn't help but feel cheated. Ayden got back his child, but where was her freckled little thing? Where was Percy with the stern look, expressions of irritation and thin lips? It had been days. What if he was harmed, cold, sad and starved? What if he was dead?

She turned to Bill and asked, "Where's Percy?" her voice bounced off and echoed off the walls.

That was Penelope suddenly looked up, her blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears. No. No. No. No. The worst possible circumstance had come to her mind. He's dead.

"Bring Percy back! Bring him back! He's hurt!" Penelope exclaimed, tears running down her cheeks.

"Hurt?" Molly's voice was soft. Her heart had been racing as she leaned down to Penelope's eye-level.

Penelope slowly nodded her head, her voice soft as she repeated, "Percy's hurt."

"Hurt how?" Arthur suddenly asked – voice teething with concern, moving to Penelope himself. It was seldom that Molly saw him visible showing his care for Percy, so this action had actually calmed her down in ways that she could not explain to most people. Molly knew Arthur cared for all his children but he found it difficult to express with Percy considering how stand-offish the boy was.

Bill was the one to answer their inquiry. "When I was running after him to take him back home, Percy fell and hurt himself – a big old gash on his leg… then for some reason, he stood up and decided to try to run off again. It really did that thing in. It was massive and it just seemed to become even bigger the more he tried to run off. I… he...Merlin, he was crying. I haven't seen him cry since he was a baby!"

"And yet the child still managed to escape with a wound as large as you're telling us?" Ayden announced, raising an eyebrow.

Bill nodded his head, offering a semi-smile. "Just when I was able to catch him, a Whomping Willow decided to ask me out to the Yule Ball."

That would explain his rather worn-down appearance.

As Molly digested this, she felt herself grow ill in thought. All she could knew was that her child was brutally injured and despite being brutally injured, he tried to run away. Despite possibly encountering Alec Lestrange and being in that deep, dark forest all alone, he didn't want to go home. That realisation was a jab to her heart, but Molly didn't break down when she'd come to terms with these thoughts. She was too flabbergasted, too wordless, too discombobulated….

That was it, wasn't it? The ultimate justification that she had done something wrong with Percy that she had not seen before? Molly knew that she shouldn't have forced him to look after the twins and that she should've stuck up for him when he was so certain that he was not at fault. All those books that they'd ripped to shreds that he loved… dear Merlin, for him, it must've been the end of the little world he made for himself in his own partially empty, unexciting room.

"I just don't understand," Molly's voice was drained, empty – weak.

Arthur pulled himself up and placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. "I know, love."

"Is Alec Lestrange back in Azkaban?" Penelope suddenly said, eyes big and blue.

Ayden nodded his head. "Yes, and he can't hurt you anymore."

"I don't care about that!" the golden-haired girl exclaimed. "I'm safe, but Percy isn't. Percy's hurt, and I'm afraid that that awful man might escape again and go after him!"

Ayden did not seem amused by Penelope's breakdown whilst Molly was frightened about what it might mean about the condition and state of her son.

"Penelope, calm down, child," Ayden instructed. "Now, let's start from the beginning… why in Merlin's name would Alec Lestrange be after Percival Weasley?"

Penelope darted her eyes at her feet. Her voice was down a few octaves. "It's…when I was attacked; Alec Lestrange gave me that potion that…that made my hair grow and try to hurt me. My hair strands were like snakes. They wrapped around my neck, and they were getting thicker and bigger. It was getting so hard to breathe… it was awful!"

Her eyes were now soft and light in colour. There were tears at the corner of her eyes.

Molly's heart had gone out for the poor girl. Nobody should ever have such an experience at any age, and she bet that poor Penelope genuinely thought that she was to die.

Penelope tried to blink away her tears, and continue on with her story, "Alec Lestrange put his wand away. Percy picked it up and bounced off the spell. He only needed a few words, and because Lestrange didn't have his wand, it worked. We ran off together. He kept me fed. He made sure I was safe… we were attacked by a manticore too! He was so big, and ugly."

She then gestured towards Bill erratically. "He was there! He saw!"

"A manticore?" Molly responded, feeling as if every brain cell in her head had just exploded in a fit of pure restlessness. She shook her head adamantly, "A manticore?!"

Bill slowly nodded his head. "Yes, we saw a manticore. We managed to dodge it."

"Percy, he—"Penelope was cut off by Bill's statement afterwards.

Bill continued to state, "It was wounded and very weak. We were able to get past him easily and escape, and it's not really something that's worth mentioning at all."

Penelope looked flabbergasted, but Molly did not know why. These stories were making Molly more agitated and desperate. Those woods were dangerous! She wished that Charlie here as well instead of out there in the woods by himself as well. Merlin knew what kind of trouble that boy would get into. Molly shouldn't have let Arthur leave them there…

"I will take Penelope back home," Ayden announced, shaking his head. "She's starting to look like Claire. She needs to calm herself down before she says more ludicrous spat."

"But Percy…he…" Penelope was stammering, tears bubbling in her eyes. "Bring him back."

"Your little friend will be fine," Ayden insisted.

Ayden Clearwater caught sight of Henry Wells, whom seemed to be rather self-satisfied at what Penelope had said about her encounter with Alec Lestrange. Really, Henry? Molly wanted to say. She honestly barely believed a word coming of the girl's tongue considering she'd been scared half to death.

She watched as Ayden and Penelope disappeared down the hall, and Molly remembered that they could not apparate within the Ministry, and probably were headed outside to apparate. She hoped that Claire was alright, and that Penelope would be too. She sounded so bright, and she'd hate it if anything happened to threaten that intelligence she harboured.

"That isn't proof, Henry," was what Arthur stated. "I'm not sure that I trust the statements of an eleven-year-old that's been scared half to death."

Henry was about to retaliate, but he nodded his head. "You're probably right, Arthur…. Perhaps, I've blown things out of proportion. I was just so…stunned myself. Perhaps, whoever had Lestrange in that state had disappeared long before I've shown up. I mustn't assume that…ah, the thought seems ludicrous now. I can see why you were all against it."

Molly didn't miss how Henry insisted on the word probably. She wondered herself if the incident that Penelope described could be plausible, but shook her head. She knew Percy too well. He didn't like to play Quidditch because of the fact that it was 'too dangerous' and if he had gotten himself filthy with rain or mud, he disappeared back into the house, demanding his mum drop whatever she was doing and attend to him.

Molly looked back at Bill, whom seemed to have that look that told her that something was definitely on his mind, but he had been pushing it away too much.

"Let's just go home," Molly said. She was missing the rest of her children. "It's been a long day."

With a heavy sigh and a gentle nod of the head, they departed. Molly disappeared along with her family, and went back home. The minute that she came back home, Sally nearly bolted out of the house in a way that made Molly think that she'd just left Azkaban.

"I am never babysitting for you again, Molly!" Sally exclaimed. She seemed stressed.

Sally now had various objects in her unkempt, black hair (was that a sugar quill?), and her lips were swollen for some reason. The woman's eyes were wide and alert. Her pretty robes had holes in it. There were several pieces of furniture that seemed to be in a rather tragic state. There was an abundance of laughter and tears all about – the twins laughing, Ron crying and silent Ginny just looking confounded.

"In fact, we aren't even friends anymore," Sally announced coldly. As she moved, a few spoons seemed to fall from her hair.

"They were just playing," Molly tried to defend her children. Fred and George seemed to be running about the place. Little Ron seemed to be hurt. "How did Ronald get hurt? What's wrong? I thought you were looking after them to make sure that they didn't get hurt!"

"I was looking after these hoodlums!" Sally said before pointing towards the twins as they passed by. "These are absolute nightmares. I don't even know how you could deal with them! Two minutes with them and I was ready to bloody end my life! And you've had children after them as well?"

She pushed through Arthur and Bill as she continued her argument, "No wonder Percy left! A child made to take care of these two? They should be thrown in bloody Azkaban! Stealing my wand and doing all kinds of nonsense in the house! I don't know what they've broken and don't even care anymore! Dear Merlin, how did that little boy of yours even withstand this house for so long? I'd run away too! I see it now, Molly! He's the only one that's had a bit of sense knocked into him!"

Sally strutted outside. Bill was just about to have at her but a sad, guilt-ridden Molly grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her.

"Go check on Ronald. I'll put the kettle on and get something for his wounds," Molly demanded.

Bill nodded his head mutely and scooped up little Ron in his arms and spoke to him in a gentle manner. Arthur was able to put the twins back under control in seconds without having to shout at them like usual.

The house was quiet and somber as Molly made her tea.

She couldn't help but think about what Sally had told her. She did know that no babysitter had ever taken to Fred and George, and yet she found it okay to let Percy take care of them. Everywhere she turned was a constant reminder of what she did wrong with Percy and how badly she had wronged him. Ron's tiny injury made her feel sick when she thought of how Bill had described Percy's wound – a wound that might even kill her son if he didn't get some help for it soon.

Molly closed her eyes and looked back at the clock. Her own handle was pointing towards Lost.

LEANING down to the ground, Percy's eyes flickered back towards Charlie, whom seemed to be exhausted. They'd been running after each other for more than a solid hour. Percy had climbed up a big tree a minute ago. The colossal amount of blood pouring from his leg was scaring him. It was extremely painful as well.

The second he laid down again, the pain had spread against his body. It radiated to every part of him and it hurt so, so, so much. He felt close to throwing up from the pain.

Percy had no food with him anymore, and the water was far away. He was very thirsty and very hungry… and he was bleeding a whole lot and didn't know how to stop the scary bleeding. When he pulled up his robe, he saw how much blood there was and felt a little lightheaded. His heart was thumping from pain. Was he going to die? He didn't want to die. He just wanted to get out of these woods and-and-and-

"Percy, please," Charlie said, his voice raspy. He seemed bone-weary. "Look, I won't try to climb. I know that if I do that, you'd probably fling yourself off and end up harming yourself even more."

It was getting so dark outside. There were things here that could tear them both alive that came at night.

Charlie sighed deeply before saying, "How about this? Just let me take you to a healer."

Percy knew where this was headed. He'd be in St Mungo's and then he couldn't go away. Then again, he was bleeding so, so much his head was hurting him and he was starting to see white spots in his vision. He was being very foolish for not going with Charlie but he didn't trust his older brother. Charlie just wanted to take Percy back home where he would be yelled at and probably never get another book in his life because he was such a disobedient scoundrel. They mightn't even give him new robes or new books.

Percy clung tightly onto his bag, and shook his head. "No," he paused. "Go away."

"Percival, you're being childish!" Charlie exclaimed, as he waved his arms around furiously. "Get down from there, or I will climb up and drag you home if I must."

The freckled ten-year-old didn't find the will in him to move.

He tried to shift his weight, but he ended up sliding off the branch and falling into a bush just beside the tree. He spat out the leaves that he'd accidentally consumed, his head heavy and his heart heavier. He found himself being slowly whisked away from the thorny bushes, and the muddy ground.

Charlie scooped a filthy Percy up in his arms, and the fitful ginger tried to fight it. He really did. It wasn't enough.

"That's it," Charlie huffed, voice dark and angry. "We're going home and we'll talk about this later."

Percy wanted to hop off, run off or do something, but he physically couldn't. His body was so weak, as he curled up in Charlie's arms. He was in so, so much pain.

"Why did you do it?" Charlie asked angrily, water dripping off his haphazard red hair.

Charlie rarely ever got angry but when he did, he didn't sound like himself. That frightened Percy. He expected that Charlie might even be relieved that he'd go back home, but if Charlie was angry, then what about the rest of his family? Were they going to take him home, give him a good talking to and then throw him out again for the bad things he'd done?

Percy didn't answer Charlie's question.

"Talk to me, you little rugrat!" the fifteen-year-old suddenly exclaimed, tightening his grip onto Percy's bruised and aching body. It made him hurt enough to cry out in pain.

"Why did you run away?" Charlie announced in that cold, condescending tone.

They'd been running for so long. He bet that that was what made Charlie so angry. That he'd wasted most of his elder brother's day trying to chase Percy and he just wouldn't stop.

Percy looked away, as he suddenly found tears filling his eyes. He sobbed, his body rocking with the distress from his wound. He pulled off his robes a little to see how big the wound had become. It just seemed to get bigger somehow, and Percy felt so woozier just looking at it.

"What in Merlin's name…?" Charlie seemed surprised at this. "Is it really this big? And you've been running for the past hour? Merlin, Perce, how stupid are you?"

Percy didn't respond to either one of Charlie's acerbic statements.

Percy's eyelids fell heavy from the blood loss and fatigue. His body seemed to be close to shutting down. His limbs were floppy and fell to his side, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

WHEN Percy woke up, he seemed to be in St Mungo's – judging by the very white walls. His stomach was sloshing angrily, and his bag didn't seem to have been confiscated for review yet. It laid on a chair close by. He looked down at his body – covered in mud, blood, grime and torn leaves. He smelled awful. He realised just how badly he wanted a shower right then. He felt so filthy.

He could hear the healer try to explain the situation to Charlie.

"He'll be fine if we just keep him hospitalised for a few months. I controlled the bleeding. If it had gone on any longer would definitely mean your brother would be either in a fatal condition or dead by now!"

Fatal condition or dead? Percy's mind repeated the healer's statement. That had to be a lie, because Percy did not have anyone looking after him. He was alone, but then again, he could see how late it must be right now. How dark it was. It was probably past the time that most people would stay in St Mungo's.

Ever since the war had ended, there was less need for long hours in the hospital for wounds that didn't need much care. It was becoming rarer for someone to need twenty-four hour supervision.

"I suggest you Floo your parents immediately," the healer continued.

Percy's anxiety suddenly rose. He did not want to see his parents to see how angry they'd be. If Charlie was angry enough to call him stupid, then he didn't want to know what his parents would say. He picked up his bag from the chair and surveyed the contents – all in one piece.

Please don't, his body screamed. Please let's just go home. Nothing is worth this pain.

Despite feeling the worst pain he'd felt in his life, Percy cracked open the window. He stared outside to inspect his surroundings. There was a tree close by that he'd just have to jump to. It wasn't a long jump – a pathetic one actually. The roads didn't seem busy. He could only see a few specks of people.

He climbed out the window and down the tree. It made the pain worse. He… he wanted to hack his leg off.

He slid down to the ground, curling himself up and pitying himself for a few seconds before he grabbed his bag and tried to walk away from St Mungo's. He cursed himself for having red hair (it always stuck out!) and manoeuvred his way through the crowd. He moved very slowly and unsteadily. He fell a few times. The pain was so great that he felt tears slowly falling down his eyes. He could barely move and he felt uncomfortable. He sat up slightly and moved bits of dirt and grass to see that there was a tiny silver object that he couldn't quite identify that he'd fallen on. He picked it up and found himself swirling in a vacant abyss. The little silver thing was a portkey – a very unsuspecting one. His head was racing as he was transported. He did not know what was going on or where he was going.

He fell to a floor with a thud. He hissed out in suffering and looked around. He was definitely somewhere else. He stood up, and tried to steady himself with a lamppost (his leg hurt so, so bad). There were muggle cars driving by him and splashing him with rain. Percy's eyes caught sight of a sign…

Percy Weasley was in muggle Brighton with a leg he wanted to sever off, and no means of going anywhere.