i've good news. i finally know exactly where i'm steering this ship towards (i.e. the plot). i've had, say, an outline, but after talking to two people, spending a few nights tousling about it, i've a good idea where i want it to be at and how i want it to end.

replies to any inquiries:

Ward Vermassen: interestingly enough, it's one of those things... do you know how when someone is incredibly overweight with high blood pressure or high cholesterol and the minute they get the chest tightness that comes with anxiety, someone would immediately assume it's a heart attack? i think it's a similar thought process. it's plausible but improbable though the tidbit was written in Percy's point of view. he doesn't know what he did/didn't do during the "fit", i.e. if he had one. they could've jammed a fork down his wrist for all we know and he was completely unresponsive. though you are right. it's a long shot hypothesis from a very normal response to a drastic situation. oh God, you have the most perfect things to say during reviews though. you bring up very valid, beautiful points! "but I would like to see a character in fiction get ill once without it having massive (disastrous) consequences," interestingly enough, i believe there's maybe 1-2 of those... depending on how you define "massive consequences". this is actually explained later on (i know i say that a lot but you've just have to trust me that a lot of things that happen are not random). both Percy's tendency to being accident prone and the various fevers he's been having. there's a bunch of epileptic cases too... those will be explained later on and by later on, i really mean near the ending. probably second to last chapter from what i've plotted.

Phoenixx Rising: aye, the voices in the water are a fun bit, aren't they?

without further ado...

as i remember the warnings, i will reiterate it just about once more: isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute.

this is a very violent and graphic chapter.

warnings for descriptions of violence and physical assault. also, illustrations that could be interpreted as self-harm.

Chapter Twenty-Five

An eleven-year-old Percy Weasley allowed himself to be excited at around two in the morning where he'd run towards his parents' bedroom with a look of glee dancing in his vibrant aquamarine blue eyes.

He noted that his parents were both asleep and just before he could sound out his great big declaration of the day; he'd noticed how completely and utterly exhausted they both looked like.

Percy let the words die in his mouth. He let his enthusiasm disintegrate as he watched them both groan and shift in their beds. His beaming grin turned into a tight line and a cold feeling filled his chest, as he turned away from his parents' room with a heavy heart.

Stop acting like such a child, Percy mused to himself.

He was the only one standing by the door. Even six-year-old Ginny was fast asleep and wasn't running around the house at Merlin knew what time, making proclamations about Christmas Day.

Letting his shoulder sink, Percy turned around and returned back to his room.

Even his restless friend, Adrian Pucey, was asleep and making those dislocating-shoulder-like-noises. Somehow, this didn't warm the cold feeling in his body.

He slinked on top of his bed and curled into his sheets, pulling the warm patchy blanket around his body. The throb and ache in his leg was a dull pulsating pain—easily ignored under normal circumstances, but somehow, Percy felt like he was close to reaching breaking point with this stupid leg that was always in pain...

Percy found tears burning in his eyes, as he placed his hand on his leg. Flashes of memories whirled into his mind now. He remembered being so aware of being five-years-old because that was when the war was happening then. He could remember his mum clinging onto him for her life, and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. For a long time, Percy believed that she was comforting him, but it did not take long for him to catch onto the fact that she was trying to not only reassure him, but reassure herself. It did not take very long for him to sober up to the sadness that came with the war and that death could follow him around, clinging onto Percy like a scent. He remembered the last time he had seen Fabian and Gideon Prewett. He remembered that they had a fight about something, just hours before they died. He remembered that they served shepherd's pie that day. He remembered that by the time that the war had ended, he found himself unable to enjoy rudimentary things. He remembered tearing through books, trying to find something to help them fight the bad people. He remembered staring out from their home, wanting nothing more than to leave. He remembered that by the time that the wizarding war was over, it took him two years to truly register to the fact that there was no more fear. He did not feel the excitement of all the other children. He was always alert, always waiting for something bad to happen.

So he picked up the books and he read even more. He kept himself in a room and watched the world pass by him with a blurry vision. His world and the real world were always separated from a glass wall, and he did not know how to join them. Now, his new mates made him feel like a child again, but he wasn't. He couldn't allow himself to act like one, allow himself to run around starkers for fun or throw himself in the deep snow until his face froze. He could not stick his feet in the mud, or stay out into the mucky rainy weather days.

This isn't fair, Percy mused to himself as he stared outside into the window. The glass was separating him from the snow. When did he get to be a child...?

THAT whole day, Percy felt out-of-sorts. He did not feel much like celebrating and the small bit of excitement he had brewing in his belly last night had vanished. In it sat that cold solid brick that took away any merriment he had. Adrian's mum had a bunch of packages sent to the household. Percy watched Adrian nipping through his packages, face lit up with zeal when he saw his beloved flobberworm mush, followed by Montrose Magpies merchandise, a new broom and a set of thick, woolly robes. Somehow, the abundance of gifts that Adrian had gotten didn't shift anyone's attention away from their own (well, it did effect Ron momentarily, but he'd forgotten all about it when he had opened his gifts).

"Gwenog!" Ginny exclaimed as she threw the haphazard looking red wrapper away from her gift, before she shot a long and cold glare over towards Percy. "Don't kill her this time, Percy."

Adrian shot his friend an inquiring look. Percy ignored it.

"I'm sorry," Percy fumbled with his sleeves, recalling the way that he had destroyed Ginny's doll previously. He knew why he did it. When he'd returned home, ill but unable to accept it as a consequence of his own actions, he had felt as if the whole world was against him. It was not. This pain was his fault.

"No, you're not!" Ginny said, happily hugging the new toy.

Percy's eyes flicked over towards a seven-year-old Ron whom was pretending that he wasn't at all interested in the spiff between Percy and Ginny. He pretended that his investments only laid in the new set of Chudley Canons posters, socks and sweaters. Percy was sure that they would need a new wall just to for these posters, as Ron's room was already not only in a violent shade of orange, but was covered with so much paper that it was impressive that Percy could even tell that the wall behind was orange, though he supposed that the fact that Ron's clumsiness had attributed to the fact that half these posters had large gaping holes in them (still Ron refused to take them down). Bill had been given new sets of earrings – which were silvery studs ("this doesn't mean that I'm alright with you wearing earrings, William," Molly mentioned as Bill opened his gift before adding on, "These are just less showy"), along with dragon hide boots which made Charlie look like he was close to having a mental breakdown. Charlie had a new broom considering the one he had been using for years now was a safety hazard.

The twins, whom normally would be given Zonko's products, were instead given new Exploding Snap cards and enough Honeydukes to prepare them for hibernation (if only). Last year, they'd been given Zonko's products and that was the year where somehow, three of their mum's vases vanished and were later on traced back to the Holland by incident. Apparently, found floating in muggle sewers.

Percy had opened his gift, which included a few books. They were all thick books that had long titles. He smiled as he saw that he got one of Gilderoy Lockhart's Voyages with Vampires. He had nearly all his books, save for his autobiography. Percy did not enjoy reading autobiographies as he found them unnecessarily dull. However, he couldn't wait to tear into this book. He'd read Holidays with Hags so many times that he could reiterate the prologue in his sleep. He knew that Penelope felt like the man was a vain amateur but Percy found his text rather refreshing, if only with an aura of conceit.

Percy's excitement for the book waned considerably quickly, when he caught sight of Ginny glaring at him and huffing towards him. He knew she didn't mean to. After all, she was just a child.

He felt a sudden guilt fill his body when he looked down at his book. Yes, he wanted this book a lot. Yes, he felt a little warm thinking of Penelope, but at the same time, he did not feel like he deserved the luxury of having a book like this one.

Just as he let the shame consume him, Adrian nudged him with something. "Mum sent this for you."

Percy blinked a few times before taking the letter, and did, in fact, notice a curly handwriting with his name on it. He bit down his lower lip, not sure how to feel about getting a gift from a woman that he'd never seen before. He slowly took the letter and pried it open, feeling uneasy and highly apprehensive.

"Mum doesn't know you well, so I can bet that that's just a few Galleons she might've sent you so you'd buy something you like," Adrian said, which made it worse.

Percy opened up the envelope and saw that there were a few Galleons that could count. His heart hammered—more than a few actually. He could feel his father's eyes on him for a few seconds and it made Percy's stomach drop because he knew that out of everything, Arthur Weasley did not like it when the family received money like this. It felt more like a bit of charity. Percy pocketed the few Galleons, glad that she didn't send him a pot of gold else Arthur wouldn't have let Percy do anything with it but send it back.

Percy felt a little terrible about deceiving his father, however. Percy pocketed three Galleons at once, and made them look like he was pocketing one. Arthur probably thought Percy had no more than four, when in fact, he had twelve Galleons. Twelve Galleons was a lot, a lot of money for him. He didn't know what to do with so many of them, but it just made the guilt feel worse because he'd pretended to his father that he had less Galleons than he did.

By ten in the morning, Percy seemed to try and force himself to have something.

Adrian seemed to notice and nudge him slightly, trying to coerce him to eat more than just an apple or a crumpet. Nowadays, Percy had been sticking to mostly eating one toasted crumpet, with apricot jam. His lacking appetite was stressing Adrian out, whom ate a whole lot, but definitely less than if Percy would've joined him.

He toyed with today's crumpet, and Adrian shot him a look that could've brought back Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

AT around five in the afternoon, Percy found himself wallowing in his own misery. He stuck his head out of the open Burrow window. Everyone was avidly playing Quidditch, and he found himself feeling eerily alone as he watched Charlie applaud Adrian.

Percy wished he could take the few Galleons that he had now and buy himself some Quidditch talent, but he did not think he could. He would like one day to be noticed for his achievements. Thus far, his shining grades had been overlooked and he didn't get more than a clap of a shoulders and a well done, Perce. He spent his whole days, lacking in sleep and working his body to the point where exhaustion was lulling him to sleep, to the point where his head felt like lead. Yet... Adrian could fly around in a broom and dodge a few Bludgers. Oliver could too. He let his thought flick back to the athletic boy in the files, the one that Arthur wanted to bring home after his 'death.' Percy bet that they'd be having far more fun with him.

He sat on the ground, waiting for them to be done. Percy's hands were on his new book but he hadn't read past the first two sentences. His eyes were locked on them, and their laughter.

Even if he did join them, he would not be laughing with them. They would be laughing at him.

Already, he could hear jeers of you still don't know how to ride a broom, Percy? and his mum would be shooting him a look of worry. Bill didn't even like Quidditch that much, but at least he could play. Even seven-year-old Ron and six-year-old little Gin-Gin was better on a broom than he could ever be. This irritated him more than it should.

They stayed there for hours and Percy watched for hours.

BY the time that dinner came through, Percy just stared as everyone else ate. He had loaded his plate with turkey, potatoes, peas and carrots, Yorkshire puds and gravy but he did not eat a thing of it. They continued to talk about Quidditch and Percy wondered if Christmas might just not be for him, simply because he did not derive any enjoyment from playing Quidditch.

"I saw you watching," Adrian beamed a smile towards Percy. "What do you think?"

Percy toyed with one of the roast potatoes. "You were brilliant."

"You really think so?" Adrian insisted, only for Percy to raise an eyebrow.

He still did not know why Adrian bothered to ask him when Charlie was sitting right there, the bloody king of Quidditch. Percy kept this thought to himself, because it wasn't Adrian's fault that Percy was feeling beyond depressed and agitated over this. Percy couldn't help but wish that someone would've opted to sit with him instead of going to play Quidditch, even if it was just out of courtesy because he liked Christmas too. Even if he did not act like it, he was still like any other child. He liked to be spoiled too. He liked to be cajoled. He liked to be asked out for ice-cream. He was not that much older than the twins, so why did people treat them like they were newborn infants and treat him like he was on par with Charlie's age?

This was hard. Percy did not want this. If Ron was sitting inside, people would sit with him because he was so little. Percy was little too, not very little, but little enough...

It didn't help that nobody had even bothered to push him to eat something, not that Percy would've, but it just contributed to how low and pathetically sad he was feeling tonight.

Even his friend that seemed worried about him in the morning had somehow forgotten all about him.

THEY went off to bed late at night. Percy slept for no more an hour and a half before he woke up.

His entire body was gleamed with sweat, as he pushed away the blanket. He sat alone with his thoughts only for a few minutes before he decided that he had to leave because he could not bear the thought of being alone like this. Adrian was sound asleep, practically hugging that stupid jar of flobberworm mush in his hands. Under normal circumstances, Percy would be the least bit amused by this, but at the moment, he wasn't.

Percy went to the kitchen and found a packet of custard creams. He wore his battered boots and trudged outside. He was wearing minimal clothing despite the heavy snow.

He was dressed in one of his mum's thinner amber-coloured sweaters, and a pair of thin pants that had about three holes on the right leg, which would normally not be enough considering the deathly cold weather outside but Percy didn't think that he'd be cold.

He walked along the path of the woods, not too far away from his house but far enough that he was breathing in different air, that he couldn't see the Burrow if he turned around. He sat down by a moss-covered log, listening to the trees rustling and hearing a gentle stream. A few small critters moved about, and he heard some generic grumbling sounds that he bet were coming from his empty belly. A buzzing sound was over his head and he looked up to see that he was sitting underneath a beehive that was infested with glumbumbles. Percy did not shy away from the hive, or move.

He just snapped open the packet, and let custard creams fall to the ground.

Somehow, it just dawned on his body that Percy had been surviving on very little. In the past two days, he had eaten a total of three crumpets with apricot jam, an apple and one ham and cheese toastie.

He picked up one of the biscuits. He picked up a butter knife that he had packed with him and scraped off the filling. Subconsciously, he held the knife out.

After a few seconds, he felt an annoyance fill him. Why didn't Adrian take the bloody—Oh.

Percy felt a sudden pang in his chest, as he sunk down on that stupid log that he was leaning against. He kept the knife held and chewed on the biscuit, chewing diligently. He picked up another custard cream and scraped off the filling before he chewed on the biscuit, feeling his shoulder shake. It didn't feel right eating custard creams without Adrian, because Adrian always ate the filling.

His heart stopped when he heard a sound. He turned around to try and detect the source of the sound, not appreciating the presence of the hulking man standing in front of him.

"Do you know who I am, Weasel?" the man called out, having Percy direct his attention to his predator. "Come on. Take a guess... Smart boy, aren't you? O's in all his subjects?"

Who are you? How do you know about my grades? Heat rose to Percy's cheeks, as his heart thumped loudly in his chest.

Percy turned around to see his predator before an uneasy feeling filled his chest. This man couldn't be less than seven feet and a half. He was built on an abundance of both fat and muscle. He wore very dark-coloured robes that weren't quite black, and his face was contorted with an expression of fury. The veins in his necks were pronounced, bulging from the skin. Percy felt his heart race into his chest, pounding faster as the man approached him. That was when a glint shimmered off the man's eyes and Percy paid attention to the nearly non-opaque, snowy eyes. He only knew one person with eyes like that—

"I said take a guess," the man repeated harshly. This time, it wasn't said nonchalantly. It was an order.

Percy's hands were shaking and he'd dropped his custard creams. He'd locked eyes with the man, maintaining a steady eye contact.

"Mr... Mr Flint?" Percy squeaked out timidly.

A look of smug satisfaction found its way to the man's face. "Do you know what my name is?"

Percy's cheeks coloured in deeply before he shook his head. All Percy could see for the next few seconds were flashing images of the finger-shaped bruises on Marcus' neck. No wonder they were so big... this man's hands were massive. "No, s-s-sir."

"Sir, is it?" the man arched an eyebrow in speculation. "Funny thing about this, isn't it, Percy? You have no qualms about trying to get me sent to Azkaban and you don't even know my name now, do you?"

Percy found himself stiffening. He hated the way this man said his name, like it was a disease.

"I've been following you around, lad," he suddenly mentioning, a light and eerie smile ghosting across his features before he said, "Why do you think I happen to find you alone? I was waiting for this moment. Now, we can have a nice little chat about this, don't you think?"

Percy said nothing, but stared with large eyes as his hands moved to his thighs.

"Answer me," Mr Flint ordered coldly.

Percy swallowed the lump forming in his throat, trying to forget about the knots twisting in his sensitive stomach. "Y-yes, sir."

"Good," Mr Flint cocked his head to one side. "My name is Caius."

"More like callous," Percy huffed under his breath.

Caius Flint laughed. The laugh sent shivers down Percy's spine and made his blood stand still.

"You're so keen on knowing what I do to my son, aren't you, Percy?" Caius mentioned, his crazed eyes looking more opaque and whitish before offering a smirk. "Why don't I show you?"

Before Percy could register what that man meant, Caius grabbed Percy by his shoulders, forced him to stand up before shoving him back down to the ground with a relative ease. Percy felt his chest and head hurt on impact. He coughed up dirt that he'd accidentally swallowed. His knees scraped against the hard ground.

"You wanted to be involved in this, didn't you? Not so easy now when parchment paper and ink aren't anywhere nearby you, is it?" Caius hissed, eyes darkening. "Do you see what you get when you try to get involved with my son's life? Merlin, you've got the bloody nerve... I can't believe I've raised Marcus to trust a piece of dirt like you, but I suppose that's my partially my fault. Maybe I pounded his head in too much that he lost the shard of common sense that he was born with."

He chuckled, as if he said something funny. Percy's head spun.

"You, like my son, are pathetic," Caius called out.

Percy's eyes were already rimming with tears.

"HELP!" Percy exclaimed, his voice high. Could anyone hear him from around here? Could anyone hear him from the Burrow? He supposed not. He was at least a ten minute walk away, and even if he was closer to the house, everyone was asleep and his family could sleep through the wizarding war if it ever came to it. Adrian was an abnormally light sleeper, but he wouldn't be able to hear him from here.

Percy was in big trouble, but he didn't know who could help him!

"You know the interesting thing about a bunch of bloody eleven-year-olds trying to outfox me? The interesting thing is that they actually think it'll help any. Oh, Merlin, I couldn't touch a hair on those other rodents that reported me. All prestigious families, prestigious names... I couldn't hit one of them without the flock fighting back! But this is too easy. A Weasley? A Weasley trying to report me? Hell, the one that tried to run away?" Mr Flint kicked Percy's ribs with the heel of his boots so hard that Percy swore that he could feel his bones shatter. Percy gasped out in pain and tried to keep his tears at bay. "You were just asking to be beaten, weren't you, you sodding little rat. Even if your family of defects fight me back, I could torch them without lifting a ruddy finger!"

Was he in big trouble now? Percy thought, his head spinning. How could he fix this?

His heart was jolting into his ribcage in a way that made him feel like he was close to throwing up. He felt Caius' hand digging into his hair.

Percy hiccupped, unable to keep the tears at bay as they fell quickly and silently. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell this man to stop, but what good would it do? This was all his fault. He was the one that insisted on walking away from his house!

"Have you learned your lesson?" Caius announced angrily. "About trying to meddle with me? I don't think you have."

Percy was torn from the ground with his hair, and was banged straight into the a tree—thank Merlin it was not a Whomping Willow!

His horn-rimmed glasses slid from his face but he turned to capture them as quickly as he could. His entire body had gone numb before he felt a stabbing rush of pain. It took a few moments for him to register that he was in genuine danger.

This wasn't a game anymore. This man could—

Caius slammed his fist into Percy's face. The contact was so bad that all Percy could feel was the numbing of his jaw before he tasted crimson blood and an explosion of pure anguish. Caius Flint hit him again and again, until Percy's vision was starting to go red and he felt like he was going to suffocate on his own blood. He was tossed to the ground again as if he was nothing more than Ginny's Gwenog doll.

"Let's see here," Caius Flint grabbed Percy's dodgy leg and a flash of horror filled Percy's bones. "This is the mucked up leg, isn't it? Oh, this is going to be fun—"

"NO... Mum, Mum! HELP! STOP... STOP... PLEASE!" Percy exclaimed, letting out an ear-shattering scream. He tried to wring out of this man's grip, but he was so strong and big. Percy knew he was essentially helpless.

What on earth told him to get out of the house in the middle of the night?! This is your fault.

In seconds, Caius pulled and twisted Percy's leg. Just before Percy could make a sound, the part-troll placed his hand on Percy's mouth. Percy bit it, which was a mistake because he tore one of his teeth before covering Percy's mouth again. Percy's whole body was enveloped with a searing, stabbing agony.

Marcus did this voluntarily? Percy's thoughts turned to his mate. His mind flashed back to the memory where he tore off his tooth violently. He'd preferred this pain to another? The thought made Percy shudder, disturbed. He had lost sense of what had happened at that point, or why it was happening.

The only thing that he feared was that Mr Flint might essentially kill him...

Mr Flint let go, tossing Percy to the side. Percy's head hit the ground very quickly, letting Percy sound out an oof. A pounding ache in his head made him feel beyond disorientated. Percy placed his hands on his head, surprised by how wet his hands had become.

He looked down to see droplets of blood pooling themselves at his hands...

Pathetic sobs raked out of Percy's body. "Stop," he begged. "Please."

"Crucio!" was called out, followed by a "Silencio!"

Percy let the white-hot piercing pain fill his body. It was like his entire body had been disintegrating. He could feel as if his skin was starting to tear, and that his brain tissue was starting to liquefy. He felt as if his every organ in his body started to congeal and migrate towards his belly button, which Percy would do anything to stab. He wanted nothing more than to abolish every single piece of tissue that made him up. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He had never felt like this before in his entire life. Percy's sunk his fingers into his skin and dragged it across his flesh so deeply that a pool of blood had filled him.

Percy was not sure if he had passed out from the pain.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the Cruciatus curse had been lifted from his body. The second thing that he noticed was that a multitude of trees had been torn asunder. Beehives were tossed aside and an admirable-sized swarm of glumbumbles were poking at Caius Flint. Percy would've laughed, or cried (whichever came first). Tears of delight slid down his cheeks because the pain of the Cruciatus was gone.

He cried of happiness, even though the rest of his body was broken.

"You little rat!" Caius did not seem pleased, trying to flick the swarm away. Some glumbumbles were already stinging him. They would need a much more potent dose of the small amount of poison in their tiny bodies to have an effect. "Merlin, when I get my hands on you, you'll wish you'd never been—"

Percy picked up one of the fallen-looking glumbumbles that seemed to be injured. Its wing seemed to have broken off before he pressed a finger against its furry body. It did not try to hurt Percy.

Why are you helping me? If Percy's fuzzy mind had told him anything, it was that he'd probably had a seizure that was so bad that he'd knocked over their trees. Why would they attack Caius but not him? He slowly stroked the creature's body with the tip of his finger. He did not take his wand with him, so he pulled the small glumbumble the pocket of his large sweater, somewhat thankful for the fact that the sweater was so massive on his petite frame.

Percy flicked his eyes towards the man, whom was now covered in glumbumble bites. His skin was covered in small and abundant lesions, raised from his skin, red, pulsating and painful.

"This is past the point of mercy, Percival!" Caius called out. The man was disappearing underneath a hailstorm of glumbumbles that seemed to encircle around the man, buzzing away. "I know what I saw and I know what you have and I suggest that you either flee bloody Britain because when I take this to the Ministry's attention..."

Mr Flint laughed, the laugh sent shivers down Percy's spine. "Stupid, bloody epileptic."

Percy stood up, falling down almost instantly because the pain in his body was so bad. He felt as if every bone and every small bit of soft tissue in his body was liquidising into the universe. He might be locked in a ward now, Percy realised, but that didn't matter now. Now, all that mattered was surviving the next few minutes.

He picked up the small glumbumble from his pocket, cradling it like a small child.

"Send help," was all he said, his breathing soft and shallow before the blackness overtook him again.