Chapter Eight

Arthur had not been able to sleep that night after his wife's conclusion about his son's death. It didn't help that Charlie had been screaming in his fitful sleeping, and had woken the whole bloody house up. That night, he held his crying wife until she had stopped crying. He took her home, and laid her to bed. He walked into the kitchen and only when he was sure that he was alone, he started to cry too.

He cried for his missing son and all the missed opportunities that had embodied themselves before him, yet Arthur thought that Percy 'didn't need them' because he was already so factual and intelligent.

Whilst he was maneuvering through the household, he found Percy's plate. It was a small one that Molly had bought for him because his son had wanted it so badly. It was back in those days where his favourite colour was blue (nowadays, it was black) and he ate a gracious amount of his mother's cooking. He laughed and smiled more in those days. Those days just slowly disappeared—and then he disappeared.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Little Ginny was standing by the doorway. She yawned and then seemed to notice the tears falling down from her father's eyes. "Daddy? Are you crying?"

The man just stared at his daughter. He could not hide his tears, or pretend that they weren't there. Little Ginny walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his leg. She pressed her head against his knee, and then said in a soft voice, "Percy's gone, isn't he? Percy? He's gone. That's why you and Mum are so sad nowadays. Percy's dead, isn't he? He's dead? He's not coming back?"

"No, Gin," Arthur said in a soft and low voice. "He's not coming back."

Ginny nodded her head, looking saddened. "I'm not going to leave you, Daddy."

Somehow, hearing her soft voice and her statement made his heart melt. It made his night just a tiny bit more bearable. His little princess… with all the commotion around Percy's disappearance and his definite probable death, all that Arthur could think about was getting his child back. He somehow had forgotten in the grand scheme of things that he had ones at home that were yearning for his attention.

"Come on. Let's take you over to bed," Arthur announced. She cracked a smile so wide that he couldn't help but smile back at his daughter.

THAT same day after returning home from work and having a hearty meal with the family, Arthur decided that he and his wife had the right to mourn his death, but they had to keep on living for the rest of the lot.

Percy's disappearance was a black plaque that had consumed the family. It had been eating away their thoughts ever since it had happened. They mirrored the emptiness in his room and lived in a consistent fear. The whole thing was a big, dark cloud washing over them and engulfing their very essence. If his wife's vision was anymore clouded, she would not be able to see. She had other children to take care of and she had to be strong for them because those children had lost their brother just as Arthur and Molly lost their son.

After dinner, he stayed by his wife's side as she started to wash the dishes. The boys were still fighting over bits of dessert – that crisp apple crumble that Molly had made.

Arthur placed his hand firmly on Molly's shoulders, noticing her dull eyes and her lacking expression.

"Percy is dead," Arthur suddenly announced, stunning the room to silence. "Percy's dead, Molly."

"I know," she said in a quick and hurried tone.

No. She didn't. She wanted to think that she knew. She needed to hear it from him, and needed the thought to percolate through their mind. There was no point in waiting for him to return home. It was done with.

"Say it, Molly," Arthur demanded. "Accept it."

"I have," she said, though she refused to reiterate it. She placed down the last bit of the plates. Arthur grabbed her hand, which was trembling. She shuddered as he made her gloss over that blue circle from Percy's little plate.

Arthur then suddenly stared back at the clock. "Take off his handle from the clock, Molly."

"No," she insisted, her voice cold and unforgiving.

Arthur shook his head before giving another order, "Break that plate."

"No," she repeated again, her voice more insistent.

Arthur sighed in exasperation, and then warned in a stern voice, "Molly. It's important that you—"

"I don't want to break it," Molly huffed coldly. "It's a perfectly good plate."

Glancing back at the table, Arthur was glad to note that his younger ones weren't listening. Meanwhile, Charlie gave him a look that would've made You-Know-Who shudder. Knowing Molly wouldn't listen to him about the plate, Arthur switched the subject entirely.

"I think we should turn Percival's room into a nice little knitting room for you. You've always complained about how difficult it is to knit and sit down on that old chair. How there isn't any room in the house."

Molly had placed the plate she was cleaning down. "Get out of my sight, Arthur."

Arthur moved away from his wife, feeling slumped and defeated.

The entire house stayed silent for the rest of the day.

CHARLIE Weasley was rummaging through the medicine cabinet in haste. He'd been having nightmares for the past few days. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing the blood dripping out of Percy's leg wound. In some of those dreams, the blood just thickened and thickened and thickened until it was the consistency of cake batter. In other dreams, it poured like water from a faucet. He remembered how Percy was unconscious in his arms. He remembered how he'd left the hospital to get his parents.

This was all his fault. They had him! They had him... he slammed his hand against the wall when he couldn't find that bloody Draught of Sleep.

"What are you looking for?" he heard Bill call out. He didn't have to look back to know that Bill was giving him a piercing look. Charlie could practically feel it. "Charlie, you can't be taking one of those every time you bloody wake up. What are you trying to bloody do? Kill yourself?"

He didn't say anything. He half-wanted to retort and tell Bill that him being consistently asleep was no better than Bill's being always awake. It was obvious too. Bill looked one second away from fainting. Midday, Ginny gave him a pillow.

And Charlie? Well, he just kept on rummaging through the mostly empty cabinet.

THAT very night, Arthur had come to their room with one of Percy's robes. She'd started to buy him his own robes when she realised how thin and tall he was compared to the rest of his children. Bill's old robes were too big. Charlie's old ones were too short. Arthur watched her come out of the bathroom, looking rather haggard and upset. There were tear streaks evident on her cheeks. When she got into the bed, she immediately wrapped her arms around herself.

Arthur slowly moved towards his wife, clinging onto the fabric of those small robes.

It smelled like him.

It was the only thing in this house that smelled like him anymore. Arthur found it when he was looking through Percy's room – when he had dismantled his bookshelf, when he'd stripped his bed, when he tore his parchment paper apart and threw away all his mood quills. Arthur cried as whatever little in his room had fallen apart into pieces. He cried so hard that his entire body felt like it had turned to rubber. His heart pumped so loudly in his chest that he remembered; you are alive, followed by but Percy is not.

"Where did you find that?" her eyes were soft.

Arthur then looked down at his feet, and then bit down on his lower lip. "I tore Percy's room apart."

"You're joking," Molly said, eyes alert as she stood up from her bed and marched down to Percy's room. "Merlin's name, Arthur, if I find out you aren't joking then…"

He followed her, and saw her standing outside his doorway.

Arthur paused as he looked at his supposed handiwork. His desk, book, closet and bookcase were demolished. He kept the wood down into the attic where he could use it for those long winter nights. He'd put away Bill and Charlie's hand-me-downs in cardboard boxes. He'd stored the nails and small clumps of metal that he didn't recognise. Everything else he found, from parchment to quills, he threw away. There wasn't much of Percy in this house, and he had to accept that there wouldn't be anymore. The room was emptier than it was when they'd first bought the house.

Molly walked inside, and stared at the four bare walls. Her eyes were large as it lapped up the nothingness.

Molly announced after a certain amount of time, the emotion behind her voice unreadable. "Arthur, I'll never forgive you for this, you know. I'll never…"

Arthur shook his head. "You will," and she knew it too. He pulled the fabric to her cheek.

She moved to touch it; her hands were shaking as she cradled that piece of cloth to her body. It was almost as if she was cradling a newborn child. He pulled out his wand, and pulled it towards the cloth.

"No," she said, burying her face in it. "Arthur, don't."

"Let go of it, Molly," Arthur announced. He felt terrible for doing this, but he had to. He pulled her into his arms. As he held her, he was able to take away that fabric and throw it on the floor.

He pointed the wand towards it and whispered a soft "Incendio."

In seconds, the last physical evidence of Percy Weasley existing in this room was set ablaze. It morphed into ashes, and the smell of smoke filled the air. He heard her cries as it burned. Her cries that could've woken up everyone else in the echoing house, but it just didn't. He supposed that everyone was dead tired and Merlin knew how much Draught of Sleep Bill was giving Charlie. He held her as tightly as he could, but she tried to break free from his grip.

"What have you done? What have you done to me?" she cried out in pain; tearful. "It's gone, it's all gone."

"It's gone. It's all gone," he repeated. Arthur only clung on tighter, so tightly that he felt as if she had become a part of his being. "Breathe, Molly, it'll be alright…. it'll be alright."

A sudden swarm of silence filled the room.

He let the nothingness fill them. The nothingness somehow hurt more than the pain. It hurt more than anything could. It felt as if something was lost, something like a limb had been detached from his body. It was as if something that everyone else had and deserved had been taken from him, and the realisation that screaming and denying it won't ever bring it back…

She was the one to break the silence after a few moments of dwelling. "It's just a room."

This room offered a comfort that he and his wife cannot afford; the intricate idea of how Percy's presence was thoughtlessly entwined within structures of metal, paper and wood… it wasn't.

Arthur nodded his head, chuckling. "It's just a room," he repeated flatly. "It's all just metal, wood and parchment... it was never anything more."

Another moment of silence had gone by. Molly had just moved around to look at the walls, transfixed by the planks of wood for abnormal amounts of time. He, too, had stared at the walls after he was done dismantling it, wondering a slew of what if's and how did this happen to me? How did this happen to my family?

"We have six other children," he reminded her; six that were neglected ever since Percy had disappeared.

His wife's voice was low as she said, "Alright."

She looked back at Arthur with red-rimmed eyes. "What do we do now?"

Arthur then looked down. "I already had a list of portkeys with me. I will investigate them and find our son's body. We'll clean him up, and give him a proper burial as a result."

Molly nodded her head, and whispered in a soft voice "Alright."

She looked away from Arthur's face. "Are we really turning this into a knitting room?" she tried to smile, but oh, that plastic smile…

All that Arthur Weasley could do was smile back.

THE following day, Arthur returned home to see his wife was humming as she cooked in the kitchen and his boys were laughing.

The clock was missing a handle. The dining table was missing a chair. The kitchen was missing that little plate with the blue circle. It simply vanished like his child had, somehow overnight.

As Arthur walked into the kitchen with a soft smile, he found Molly whacking Bill with her cooking utensil, looking rather offended at something that he had said. He could smell the scent of a piping, hot tomato base – no doubt to prepare her spaghetti bolognese. Arthur just realised that for the past few days, they'd been consuming an incessant amount of cheap takeaways, which was highly unlike the family (aside from Bill and Charlie). After Percy's disappearance, all normal daily activities seemed to cease… up until today.

Today, Arthur spent his day checking portkeys after filing the Minister in on why, or how. The man understood enough that he had allowed Arthur to take these days as vacation days (with pay) whilst he searched for signs of his son's body… his corpse.

"Get of my kitchen now," Molly announced, looking back at Bill. It was the first smile he'd seen in days. "You're distracting me so much. If you keep this up, we'll end up having bread rolls for dinner."

Bill groaned, but then left the kitchen. He was starting his job soon, and Arthur could not wait to talk to him about his first day of work.

"Paulina told me that little Isabella got her Hogwarts letter," Molly announced after some time.

"Oh," Arthur had noted, nodding his head. "That's…that's great to hear."

Somehow, it just came to mind that Percy did not get a Hogwarts letter. Did news reach that quickly to Dumbledore that he didn't bother sending out a letter for his son? He left the kitchen afterwards, remembering that day that frightened ten-year-old Percy climbed onto his lap. He had been expressing his fear of not being sorted into Gryffindor to his father.

Arthur chuckled sadly. At least Percy didn't have to worry about that anymore.

FRIDAY was the day that Percival Ignatius Weasley was discharged from the General Hospital in Brighton. With short legs and a long torso, he felt rather awkward in the new clothing that had been bought for him. The pants that he was wearing were rather… er, colourful and his shirt was so tight that he felt like his internal organs were mapped out for all of Brighton to see.

"Why is he here?" Draco was annoyed that Percy had ruined their vacation. "I don't like him."

"Nobody asked you," Lucius replied mechanically, rolling his eyes.

For some reason, Percy noticed that Draco was always eating something. At this moment, it was a bag of crisps that his father had bought him a few hours ago that he'd just decided to open.

Lucius sighed deeply. "Draco, share with the weasel. He obviously requires the fat more than you."

Percy's cheeks coloured in. Draco shook his head and only stuck out his tongue as a result, making his father look dangerously close to smacking him with that terribly frightening looking cane of his.

"Share with that genetic mutant?" Narcissa huffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't belittle Draco to that."

Percy felt ill whenever he was referred to as genetically challenged. He felt a little less like a human, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He did not want to seem weak when he wasn't.

"You," Lucius pointed the cane towards Percy, staring at him with a dark expression. "Do you still want that the supplies that you stole from Alec Lestrange?"

Percy nodded his head. "Yes, I'd like my things back if you please."

A smirk etched upon Lucius Malfoy's face. "Alright, I will give it to you… if you'd be so inclined as to give me a little something… well, you see, your father, Arthur, has a few confidential papers that belong to me stacked into that pesky prison of yours you call a house. If I was to take you to that filthy little house, you'd get them back to me, wouldn't you? In exchange for your supplies?"

Percy was terrified of doing the idea of doing this – stealing his father's files and getting his father into trouble just for the sake of a few things he'd stolen from Alec Lestrange. Percy was aware that if the Minister figured out that his father even had those files, he'd be fired.

The boy nodded his head towards Lucius. "Alright," he said in a whisper.

Narcissa's face softened dramatically when Percy had agreed to this. "Perhaps, the abomination isn't so bad. I still wouldn't believe it until those files are secure in your hands, Lucius. This thing might still betray you. It doesn't have a loyalty to you."

It, it, it – Percy shut his eyes. "I'm not an it."

"I'll only believe it when I see it," Draco huffed, throwing the bag of crisps away into a bin as they passed. "A weasel helping you get your files, father... it's a trap."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "I'll take the chance. A trap made by those morons? I'd love to see the day where they could outwit me."

THEY used a portkey to the Burrow. This told Percy that Lucius had been planning this for a very long time.

The Burrow seemed quiet. Percy trudged through towards the big house, and felt his heart cry out in nostalgia. Even though he'd been properly stitched up, it was still difficult to walk and he had been limping for the past few hours. The healers said that it could either get better and he'd regain full use of his leg or he might get worse, and they'd have to sever it off after some time. It could also just stay as it was.

The floorboards were too creaky for him to move. His movements were no longer graceful due to his injury, but he took his chances.

He went in through the backdoor. He noticed that there was still some form of biscuits, and cakes. He'd wrapped them up and shoved them into his bag. Over the last few days, he had been throwing up whatever he had been eating at the hospital as a result of some potions not agreeing with his system. He remembered longing for his mother's homemade tarts when he was being force-fed tasteless scraps of chicken. He was feeling a bit better knowing that his bag was full of homemade goodies his mum had made.

Just as he moved from the kitchen to the living room, he found his heart stopping.

Bill was slouched over the couch, asleep. He looked awful, like he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in days.

He tried to move as soundlessly as possible. He slowly crept up the stairs, and felt his heart pummel deep into his chest when he had made an audible sound. Realising he did not wake anyone; he climbed upstairs in a slower manner. Percy's anxiety was at an all-time high. His heart felt like it was about to rip out of his thorax. He felt like he was breaking and entering into a home that wasn't his anymore.

He immediately went to his parents' room, knowing exactly where Arthur kept those files that Lucius had wanted. He slipped inside, seeing that his parents were soundlessly asleep. He grabbed the files off the table, and held them close. His bag was too full and even if it wasn't, fumbling for the zippers might wake the parents up, and then he'd be in all sorts of trouble!

He looked back at his parents, and moved towards them. They seemed happy as they slept. He placed a hand on his father's arm, and pressed his head against it for some time. All Percy wanted to do was jump into his father's arm and beg for some form of forgiveness; for leaving them. He had even debated waking his father up, crying and slipping right between them in that bed. As he walked away, he noticed that his hands were trembling and tears were shaking, threatening to spill from his eyes. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay—but he can't. He'd be in all sorts of trouble for leaving.

He moved down the hallway, and then turned to catch a look of his room. That was when the sadness suddenly disappeared. His room had been dismantled to the point where there was left of him, his room, were four blank walls. His room wasn't this bare when he received it.

A sudden fire filled his very bones.

ARTHUR swore he heard some sort of rustling about late at night. He thought that perhaps, Molly was tossing and turning or that the twins were up to some sort of terrible nonsense. He sighed and went to tell off his children. When he walked into the twins' room, he realised that they were indeed tired and asleep. He heard more shuffling somewhere in Percy's room.

He went back to his room and grabbed his wand. He was careful as he did so. He did not want to wake up everyone else up. The door to Percy's room was cracked open…