note: this fanfiction is not dead! however, i want to tell you that this whole thing comes to 58 chapters and an epilogue. that's right, i've finished it! so expect it go to back to weekly update format. none of these 2 week gaps. in fact, expect an update this Thursday or Friday (i do have to attempt to reread through these, you know.). also, i hope i expect some feedback for the past few chapters! it's quite discouraging not to receive much.
and here is where ALL the warnings start to make sense. the warnings again are: 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... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on), mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm and a mention of sexual assault (Penelope and Roger).
after this chapter, there's another big time skip. Percy will probably stay at that age for the rest of the fanfiction. i've only kept him at 15 for 13 chapters versus him being 11 at 26. so only "half the time" but this is going to be extremely morbid if i keep on going for more than 1-2 chapters. in the upcoming chapter, Percy will be 21, so that is a SIX year time skip. if no one has figured that one out yet, it's because it's round the age that Percy was when the war had just ended. it ended in May 1998, but Percy was 21 because his birthday is in August (this actually took me a second to realise when i was doing the maths on an Excel spreadsheet.)
things should start seriously falling into place now. i would say the only thing that hasn't been explained is Athena's gift. otherwise, i believe that Ares' motives are clear. the love for the war that Percy had mentioned when he was drunk to his mum was no random tidbit of information. it's a major story line.
also, you may or may not (hopefully, may!) notice that Fred is alive for some reason. aye, i sort of wrote the first draft on the basis that he'd been alive. it is an AU, so it still works. this fanfiction is heavy enough without the added "Fred is dead" plotline that the original story follows. it would be too much of a hazard for me to fit in with the density of the plot (even if it does fit in).
Chapter Forty
"Father, can you please tell me what needed me to do that was so urgent that I couldn't have found something more appropriate to wear?" Percy mumbled, attempting to rub the sleep from his red-rimmed eyes.
They were now stood in the middle of Diagon Alley and Percy was being gawked at because he was in his footed pyjamas (the one with the whizzing broom and soaring stars pattern). These pyjamas happened to have a hole conveniently located at Percy's arse and showed off his dashing choice of bright blue underpants.
Arthur genuinely did not know why in Godric's name they were doing here. Ares literally shook Percy awake and they'd apparated away to Diagon Alley before Percy could wipe away the drool from his mouth.
Now, they were stood there and Arthur couldn't come up with an excuse other than 'we're shopping for your mum's birthday! Which is in October!' and this was why Arthur Weasley hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw.
Another reason for why he hadn't been sorted in Ravenclaw was because Fred and George suddenly popped out of nowhere, looking particularly murderous. From what Arthur saw, they had heavy-looking tattered rucksacks and Fred was holding Percy's copy of Prefects Who Gained Power.
"I suppose your 'urgent matter' is related to the fact that you're going to bury me in Diagon Alley in the dead of the night. I see you're honouring me by burying me with my favourite book," Percy mumbled in revulsion. "However, next time you plan my funeral, I suggest you await until I've had a proper night's sleep and am not wearing the most distasteful choice of underpants known to mankind."
Fred seemed to suddenly notice the bright blue and smirked. "Guess you don't need a nightlight with underpants like that now, do you, Perce?"
Percy's cheeks coloured in. "Must you humiliate me at three in the morning?"
Arthur hoped that this would be one of the moments where Ares would spit out a logical answer to Percy's questions—because Percy will ask again what they were doing there and how 'urgent' this business really was. This did not happen because apparently, Greek Gods of war loved watching Arthur make a fumbling fool of himself in front of his most articulate son.
"Percy?" a female voice broke Arthur out of his thought process and he turned to notice twenty-three-year-old Audrey Brown, a nurse that had once attended to Ron's terrifying case of dragon pox when he was much younger, standing there... and attempting not to break into hysterical laughter. "Um... very nice underpants. It brings out the complete lack of genuine emotion in your eyes."
Arthur thought he must be dreaming, because the drowsiness in Percy's eyes had just disappeared and his entire face lit up like a child that had just seen how many presents were under the Christmas tree.
"Audrey," Percy sounded like he'd been practicing Quidditch for hours.
"Percy?" Fred poked at Percy's arm, and he didn't seem to notice.
She blushed as she passed him by, trying to suppress a beam that had found its way to her lips.
"Percy?" George was the one that called out Percy's name this time. "Perce?"
"Hmmmm?" was all that Percy said, still staring over at her form until he could no longer see it. He seemed to have somehow forgotten that he was making googly, glossy eyes round his father and his twin brothers.
'I didn't know he was volunteering to shag nurses,' said an amused Ares.
He did not, Arthur said. At least he didn't think that Percy had slept with her.
Still, staring at how they were looking at each other like any moment, it wasn't hard for Arthur to realise that Percy liked her. And she liked him. Arthur would have to be blinder than a vampire in bat form not to see it. Brilliant. He knew that there had to be something like this coming up. Percy was too well-behaved and un-Weasley like. It had to have happened. Arthur was sure Percy was bound to do something extraordinarily irrational and marginally commendable but this was—
'Oh shut up, Arthur,' Ares mumbled in annoyance. 'If I wanted to hear this bollocks, I'd visit Aphrodite.'
"How was it, Perce? Snogging her face off?" Fred asked with a smirk, noticing how Percy seemed to be in his own world, planning to have red-haired bossy children with like himself with Audrey no doubt.
Percy seemed to come back to reality with that comment. "I did not snog her face off."
Arthur watched Ares pull out his wand whilst they were bickering about it. Fred and George were grinning and Percy's cheeks had taken onto a bright red colour.
'You won't have to have me round for much longer, Arthur. I'm going back to my original vessel, the one I've had for the past few decades.' Ares expressed smoothly. 'It is far better than this frail, insubstantial body—though dare I say, I hope you forgive me for what I'm going to do.'
Arthur's heart was pounding so hard. He had never attempted resisting Ares as hard as he did then. He focused every molecule of his being to somehow drop the wand, yell Percy to run off, apparate them home or even do as little as blink when Ares was in his body.
His resistance was futile and did nothing but exhaust Arthur. His body was not his anymore.
His children were sat there, talking about something trivial, completely distracted and Arthur knew that Ares was going to do something to destroy that. He knew it—and as hard as he tried, he was too weak to do anything about it. This made him feel ill.
Arthur (but not Arthur) called out a spell that Arthur had never heard of before, but it was seemingly innocuous enough. Fireflies started to burst from Arthur's wand, littering the sky, as vibrant glittering bright lights. There seemed to be thousands of them! It was a wonderful sight to say the least.
"Look, Perce!" Fred exclaimed. "Nightlights in case you're scared of the—"
George tapped on Fred's shoulder. "Dad," his face was completely serious. "What was that for?"
Arthur (but not Arthur) immediately lunged and grabbed onto Percy's arm tightly to prevent him from fleeing, and Percy seemed to be attempting to get out of the grip as best as he could.
What are you doing? Let go of him, Arthur didn't know what this display exactly was leading up to, but seeing Percy becoming visibly stressed made Arthur's stomach drop. This did not bode well for anyone.
"LET HIM GO!" Fred and George pulled out their wands, pointing it towards their father as Percy struggled.
Percy looked up at Arthur, tears brimming into his red-rimmed eyes. He looked like he was on verge of a mental breakdown.
Fred and George suddenly emptied their rucksacks. An Engorgio was used on what looked like miniature books, which suddenly enlarged to their normal size. With an Oppugno, the army of books flew towards Arthur, assaulting him and hitting him square in the nose but dodging Percy completely. The grip on his Percy tightened so hard that Arthur was sure he'd even heard a bone crack.
"What is going on here?" a dark-haired woman walked into their circle, just as Arthur (but not Arthur) sent the books sailing back without even calling out a charm. It appeared as if the books had minds of their own. It looked like Fred and George's charm that had just backfired instead of Arthur casting out the spell himself. To others, he looked like a father that was just holding his son's arm back for some unknown reason.
The books smacked Fred and George violently, throwing them down to the ground.
"FRED!" a stressed Percy exclaimed. "GEORGE!"
"Percy?" Arthur sounded out weakly, stomach coiling into knots. What are you doing? What in Merlin's name is going on here? Don't hurt my children. Don't you dare hurt my children.
'You'll know soon enough,' Ares explained. 'Goodbye, Arthur. It's been dreadful knowing you. Don't worry. I'll continue watching Percival from a far! Maybe one day, I'll have another task for you and we can meet again. Otherwise, I'm happy that I'm leaving this Merlin forsaken vessel. Maybe one day, you'll make the connection to who I also am.'
Arthur could feel the heaviness in his shoulders disappear and the grip that he had on Percy loosening dramatically. The tension in his body disappeared...
Ares was gone.
The next thing that happened neither Arthur didn't expect—Percy fought back against the grip, grabbed Arthur's hand and bit into it so hard that Arthur felt blood seeping out of his skin.
Arthur pulled his hand away and Percy ran off. Fred and George stood up and ran after him.
Percy had paused mid-way into his run, shoulders twitching and body stiff as he found himself caught in the midst of bright lit fireflies flying about. Fred and George grabbed his arms and attempted to drag him away from the scene. They knew something was going to happen. Arthur knew something was going to happen. He didn't know what, but he knew.
Arthur ran off after him, and noticed the vacant and blank expression encompassing Percy's face.
"Get away from him!" were all that a bruised Fred and George sounded out, but Arthur didn't listen.
He grabbed Percy's shoulders and shook him, but Percy didn't reply.
"Percival?" Arthur's voice was high with concern. What were these fireflies doing to him? He looked so white that Arthur wondered if his son was going to suddenly drop dead into his arms over fireflies.
Percy collapsed in the middle of the street and convulsed.
"PERCY!" Fred and George dropped down to the ground.
Arthur froze, feeling unable to process what was going on. Suddenly, Arthur was mildly glad that Percy had bit him. The meagre pain in his hand helped cope with the guilt running through his veins because Percy was convulsing in a public place. Percy was going to have this as the third fit of his life. He was going to go to the ward. Percy Weasley was done, and it was all hisfaulthisfaulthisfault.
"What've we packed for this?" an anxious George suddenly asked Fred.
The whole of Diagon Alley was circling around them now, almost waiting for something completely unbelievable to happen...
And it did.
"Is that Pegasus?" Fred suddenly called out, pasty faced. "Godric, if this happened any other time, it would be so cool. This isn't fair."
George's mouth was agape. "Shut up, Freddy."
Arthur looked up and noticed that a large winged horse was suddenly destroying market stalls and wrecking havoc. It went without saying that Arthur didn't know how to respond to the fact that his son had actually summoned Pegasus to rip Diagon Alley apart.
He was sure that shaking Percy whilst he was having a fit was a moronic thing to do.
"Percy, stop!" Arthur exclaimed, cringing when others' screams sounded out. The horse had smashed what seemed to be a quarter of the stalls in that road in less than a minute. "PERCY!"
"Perce, you've got to—" Fred and George were cut off.
"Let me try, little lads!" an oaf that had more muscles than a dragon grabbed Percy and pinned him down to prevent him from convulsing. "Almost like he'd never had that fit in the first place, aye?"
"Except look at that!" Fred exclaimed, pointing to where the winged horse had crashed into the window of a shop because he'd run out of stalls to smash.
Needless to say, this pining him down bollocks didn't work well. If anything, the horse was more frazzled and had began to fly into windows of buildings and smash his hooves on faux muggle mailboxes and lampposts round the road. It had probably been no more than five minutes and half of Diagon Alley was in ruins as Arthur watched men attempt to restrain the horse by restraining Percy. A few were holding his legs down, another holding his face down and a thousand Stupefy's didn't seem to be helping any. Arthur would object to stunning Percy, but what else could they do? He was literally tearing apart Diagon Alley!
"Stop it," Arthur suddenly sounded out, his heart pounding. "He's blue."
"What do you propose we do?" one of the blokes that had been trying to stun Percy had exclaimed.
Fred and George replied in unison. "How about not stunning him when a stunner won't do?"
"Thank Merlin some Aurors have finally arrived!" a white-haired lady stated. "What are they doing there with that breeding experiment gone wrong? They should be here with the blasted son of a—"
Arthur turned round to notice that Aurors were attempting to stun the Pegasus and felt his stomach flip.
"Oh, that's it!" a woman hissed out in contempt before she pointed her wand toward Percy and exclaimed, "Crucio!" in front of a hundred people what with Aurors all about the place.
It definitely made an Auror sigh and grab her arm, pulling her away. That and it didn't do anything, just like the rest of the spells that were used on Percy.
He looked up at his twins. "Fred, George, what you saw back there, it wasn't me. It was..."
"A Greek God?" George sneered, and then smirked. "Yup. We know. Flint told us. You look as hysterical as a big girl's blouse so I suppose that Ares has left the building, hasn't he?"
"Left it after deciding to throw a Confringo just before," Arthur said in contempt.
Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief as he turned Percy to his side, and unbuttoned the first few dark blue buttons on his pyjama top. This seemed to have let his son breathe a little better. Thank Merlin for that. He was looking far less blue than he had been a while back. There was a point where Percy turned into a shade of blueberry and turned into a real life Violet Beauregarde like in that muggle children's book!
"Mr Weasley, do you want to talk to me about this debacle?" a reporter suddenly thrust herself in front of him, and Arthur politely shook his head.
Arthur was sat here, paralysed by fear because his son was absolutely going to end up in a ward that would treat him less than a dirty mouse and this—this lady wanted to ask him questions about it? He turned to look down at Percy, whom hadn't calmed down as of yet and was still convulsing. How long had it been? Should he have been convulsing this long? The five minute mark had passed and the fireflies had long scurried away.
"Do you want to bugger off?" Fred mumbled in annoyance to the reporter.
Arthur didn't even feel much better at Fred's comment. He could barely remember how he was just sitting here, crouched on his knees, attempting not to do something inane and stupid that would probably hurt Percy more than help.
A thousand Stupefy's did nothing to stop Percy, as he'd discovered. A deplorable woman tried to Crucio his son—and all of this only seemed to anger the Pegasus, whom had inflicted bodily harm on a few Aurors and looked to be quite vicious. The blood on the street made Arthur ill and to know that Percy had done this made him feel weak. To know that Percy hadn't intentionally done this made him feel worse, because now, Percy would wake up with those childlike blue eyes and he'd have to hear it from the rest of the world.
"Arthur," Ayden Clearwater had slid beside him, his face pale and full of shock. "Is there no way of controlling that fit? If he continues any long, the whole task force would be brutally murdered by a horse."
Arthur just shook his head. He was... useless. All he could do was watch.
"I'm a healer!" a woman crouched down before him, placing her hands on his shoulders, which Arthur was sure that she shouldn't have done when his body was still rustling about like it was. She seemed surprised. "Why can't I apparate him to the hospital? A wizard that is unreceptive to magic! Maybe we'd start swearing by him at some point! Merlin, this lad needs someone to write his autobiography!"
"He'd like that," Fred weakly mumbled. "But he'll probably hate the wording and rewrite it himself."
"And then rewrite it again," George added on, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.
Arthur didn't know why Percy seemed impervious to magic either during his so-called fit. The thought was itching at the back of Arthur's mind, but because, this may be why Ares had wanted Percy's body. This may be why he couldn't just enter Percy's body. Maybe there really was something that wasn't right about Percy.
"Look at that!" the healer called out, and Arthur turned round. "Thank Merlin! We're saved!"
Most of Diagon Alley looked to be in a state. An army of Death Eaters couldn't do this damage in days to what the winged horse had done in what had to be only fifteen minutes.
Henry Wells seemed to have gotten a group of dragon tamers to restrain the horse. It was now sat on the ground to the side, asleep. Arthur would assume Sleeping Draught was somehow involved. Arthur hadn't been paying attention to how this had happened. All he did know was that Percy's convulsion was coming to a stupor, and then he just stopped. His eyes slowly opened up, full of drowsiness.
"We'll have the beast sent to Romania where they'll treat him like a dragon," Ayden suddenly said, as he sat down by Arthur. Well, treating him like any winged horse didn't help, so Arthur could see his point. "I think your son can be taken away to the hospital now."
Arthur nodded his head. Ayden didn't think. He knew. Ayden was sorry, and Arthur didn't know what to say.
The healer had already apparated Percy awake, and that once-light solid substance in Arthur's stomach just transfigured itself to lead. He nearly felt like he couldn't apparate himself anywhere with how heavy he was.
"Thank you," was all that could come out of Arthur's tongue, as he grabbed the twins' hands.
THEY all apparated to the hospital together, finding an incredibly somnolent Percy being dragged away by a bunch of healers. They'd run after them in haste. Arthur wondered if the rest of the world could hear his heart pounding or the blood rushing to his head.
"This bloke feels hotter than Gilderoy Lockhart in a pair of skivvies," one of them said, laughing.
Percy looked back at her with a confused expression. "Hmm?" and then cracked at the smile. If Arthur had to guess why, he'd assume it was at the memory of his one million copies of Gilderoy Lockhart's books.
Arthur didn't seem to find this funny nor did he find Gilderoy Lockhart in a pair of skivvies a delightful sight. Fred and George seemed to agree from how their facial expression contorted to repulsion. Percy had probably spiked a post-seizure fever; just like he had when he was a little nipper, and they were dragging him down the hospital like he was he was an old tattered blanket they were stuck with.
"Are they really taking him to death ward?" Fred asked, his entire face draining from colour.
"What's that?" George didn't like the looks of the door that they'd just walked in.
They were trailing after the healers—off into a secluded area. The corridor that they'd walked in was badly lit. There was another door at the end of the corridor. That ward was bloody separate from the rest of the hospital! That could not be a good sign for how things were. Arthur halfway thought that it was a secret passage to Azkaban just from how rank this place was.
The corridor seemed to stretch on forever. Every step they took left Arthur shaking.
At the end of it, a brown-haired woman stood there with a stern look on her face. There were no desks, no chairs, and no names on the clipboard besides Percy's (well, at least, he would get the attention his five-year-old self so desperately craved, Arthur thought morosely). Though it went without saying, Arthur did not want to leave Percy alone with these people. Speaking of Percy, he was going to go through the most terrifying experience of his life and at the same time, he was attempting not to have a kip in the middle of it!
"No, no, no, you can't," Arthur suddenly sounded out. What was worse than this really? Azkaban? Was it?
Fred's lips were pressed into a tight line. "That's not fair! He's a prefect, you know!"
The stern-faced lady just rolled her eyes at Fred's comment. "Oh, yes, I've seen the error of my ways! I'll just let him go off because he's a prefect. It's not like he's absolutely torn Diagon Alley apart with the winged horse he'd summoned just from his uncontrolled magic! It's not like he's sent seven Aurors to St Mungo's just an hour ago, half of which have to stay for a fortnight to recover from the injuries he'd inflicted in less than five minutes!"
George flinched and Arthur looked at the twins. Merlin, he'd failed all of them.
"Can we at least see him being dropped off to his doom?" Fred asked in annoyance.
"Fine," the woman expressed. "You may accompany him into the unit, and then you're gone, but I assure you all that I will take good care of Peter—"
"Percy," Arthur corrected firmly.
Her eyes were hard with contempt as she stared over at Percy. Percy might as well be a misbehaved Kneazle, except for the fact that most people dotted on those vile things.
She wouldn't let Arthur, Fred or George in until after the others had confiscated their wands and put them away.
As she put their wands into a box, Fred started to shake Percy as hard as he could, his eyes filled with contempt, "Perce, Perce, wake up. They're going to ruin your life," he attempted to shake Percy as hard as he could but Percy seemed to be dreaming.
George shook him even more. "Make a run for it," and then dropped his tone down to, "Bite her."
At the last statement, Arthur's cheeks coloured in as he stared at his hand. A scab had already formed over the tiny cuts on his hand from where Percy had bit him.
Percy only drowsily nodded his head, and fell asleep whilst standing up.
The woman walked into another door and had her wand lit with a Lumos. Otherwise, the whole room was absolutely immersed in darkness.
Percy's eyes suddenly cracked wide open because if there was anything that Percy was terrified of; it was the dark. Seeing that look of absolute terror cross Percy's face implored Arthur to do something, no matter how inane or improbable or stupid it was.
Arthur placed his hand into Fred's rucksack and threw a dungbomb in the middle of the unit.
George immediately tore a woozy Percy from her weak hold, and attempted to make a run for it.
"Fred!" George exclaimed, throwing Percy towards him. Fred caught Percy, whom had nearly fallen on his arse and then dragged him out by his hips. It was too awkward for Fred to attempt to carry Percy any other way considering their startling height difference.
They realised the clear loophole in their plan soon enough. The woman had stunned Fred.
She grabbed Percy back by his elbow and violently shoved him into a room—well, cell. There was no window visible, which meant that this total eclipse was standard. Percy suddenly grabbed the bars and started to shake them as hard as he could.
"I'll let that one off with a warning, Mr Weasley," the nurse mumbled in annoyance. "Don't make this worse than it has to be. Your son nearly killed people today. Don't they deserve a peace of mind? You must understand that your world does not revolve around your epileptic son. You should be grateful that he's staying here until the Minister decides if he should've put your... child... on trial."
"Trial?" somehow, the thought hadn't occurred to Arthur. Percy didn't mean to do any of this.
"I've done what?" Percy's voice was watery and unclear.
The nurse looked back at him with a cold expression. "Don't look so bloody surprised, Percival. Most of your kind end up rotting in Azkaban for firing away Unforgiveables or for murder during a fit—or so, they used to. You're the only living case in of wizarding epilepsy in the world and we're not allowing you to run amuck, summoning winged horses round Britain."
The bars continued to rattle, as Percy ranted. "This is preposterous. This is unbelievable. This is rubbish—"
She moved towards the—well, the cell really. "These bars are charm and potion resistant so don't get any bright ideas. Breaking out of Azkaban would be easier. There will be a few nurses watching over you throughout the day." She turned to look over at Arthur. "As for you, Mr Weasley, I want to assure you that he will be fed and properly clothed. If he complies with his treatment, he will be out eventually. If he damages these bars somehow, you're the one that's going to pay the cost. That is if there is no trial."
That made Percy stop shaking the bars as hard as he was. His hands dropped to his knees, which Arthur could barely see in such dim lighting.
"This is ludicrous," Percy sounded out, obviously awake at this point. "Please release me from this prison."
"Okay, I suppose you three are going to leave now," the irritated nurse stated, as she walked towards them. She pointed their wands towards them. "It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Likewise," Arthur said in distaste.
"You cannot just leave me here!" it appeared to have downed on Percy that they were going to leave, because they had to leave. Arthur flicked his eyes towards the uneasy facial expression of Fred and George.
What could they do? Their dungbomb ploy wasn't exactly the best. Arthur knew that this ward was impenetrable by all forms of magic (and that was why fits were not as disastrous as they were out in the open), so even if they had their wand, he'd doubt he'd be able to break Percy out of there and escape without having the whole Auror task force running after their tails and threatening the Kiss every time that Percy took a breath out in clear English air. They'd be sent to Azkaban before the next day even dawned! Not to add on, they'd already broken the rules a thousand times tonight! Their luck was due to extinguish...
"Percy, I'm sorry," was all that Arthur could say.
"I'll be brilliant!" Percy suddenly exclaimed from where he was sat. "Alright, I admit it. I'm an awful son. I'm a terrible brother. I'm extremely ungrateful. I'm selfish, and I will never run off again... and the twins? I'll take care of them for the rest of eternity without another complaint! But—but—"
Percy's voice had come to a stupor. "You cannot just leave me here."
"Percy—" Arthur was cut off.
"You can't leave me here," Percy grabbed his curls with his hands. "You can't."
"Perce, we have to," Fred and George said in unison. Obviously, they'd racked up their brains and didn't have any plans at the moment. It wasn't their fault either. Arthur bet even Rowena Ravenclaw would need more than the two minutes that they had to come up with a reasonable plan.
"Enough of that," the nurse seemed to be agitated by their inability to just say goodbye. "We—"
"Please, do not do this to me," Percy suddenly begged, visibly trembling. "I would genuinely prefer death."
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" the last thing that Arthur remembered was his heart racing again.
He'd felt like he'd been experimenting with illegal potions that made his heart speed and funny pictures coming into his eyes. He felt like he was one second away from disappearing into the core of the universe. He felt his whole existence just come down to the warm tingling sweat in his fingers and this one moment where his son was telling him that he preferred to die and Arthur was just... walking away.
The last sound he heard was Percy sobbing recklessly, before letting out an ear-shattering scream.
"PERCY, Percy, Percy..." a sardonic voice bounced off the dim walls. "If only you answered my owls before! If only you took me seriously instead of chucking all my letters in the bin. If only you hadn't insisted on cutting off Medusa's head and setting it on me... if only you hadn't made one of my pets laugh itself to death! Then maybe I mightn't have resorted to this cacophony."
Percy could hear steps and feel a cold presence in his chest. He knew that voice.
"Penelope is in no world Medusa," Percy offered flatly.
"Oh, you're just like your father," the voice stated, leaving Percy feeling deeply insulted. He was nothing like Arthur. "Do you really skip all that vital information to attempt to save the graces of your women?"
"I do not have any women," Percy huffed. "And I'm not exactly the most desirable."
Percy wondered why he wasn't wallowing in self-pity and self-destruction anymore. He did cry so much that his eyeballs were in risk of falling out of their sockets (similarly to some of the more... graphic... Hogwarts portraits. Ones that Percy had written letters about to Dumbledore, insisting that eleven-year-olds shouldn't be seeing such rubbish on a daily basis. He was sure he mentioned psychological development and had crossed out there's one with the pulsatile liver wants to shag the Boy Who Lived.) Considering the fact that his father had thrown him here and the fact that he'd smashed Diagon Alley, he did not feel the least bit remorseful... which made him feel remorseful because he was not remorseful (quite backwards, wasn't it?) and he did not feel much hatred towards his family. At least it wasn't the cauldron-will-explode boiling anger that it was an hour ago, where he insisted that the minute that he was going to leave the ward, he would somehow find it in his scraggy frame to break a family member's bones (maybe not Charlie).
"You're denser than a cauldron cake," the voice said. "How can you not notice that Penelope Clearwater is one step away from shoving love potions in your coffee?"
Percy's cheeks coloured in. "That is a false contention—"
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" he exclaimed. "Percival, it is me... Ares! I've thought that a little trip down to the ward might make it easier for me to convince you of my horrid schemes to start a war for the ages. Do you believe me NOW? Now that I've sunken so low as to use that lunatic you call a father as a meat suit! How grotesque! I cannot believe I was under the impression that I can garner useful information from that man!"
"What kind of information were you wishing to gather?" again, somehow, the main point seemed to slip past Percy's mind completely. An infant saved the wizarding world from total collapse and Marcus Flint saved him from being a shish kebab only hours ago. Nothing surprised him anymore. "Valuable information such as whether or not we have enough money to go to the Quidditch World Cup? Him attempting to calculate his week's expenditure and coming up with inaccurate figures? What about how to use a muggle fellytone without tripping on the cable?"
Ares snorted. "No, I thought that perhaps I could garner something valuable on the basis that you visibly have daddy issues—"
"I do not!" Percy disagreed. How was he forgoing the fact that he was going to be locked away into this cell until he somehow ceased having fits? "He started it!"
"SILENCE!" the Greek God roared.
"Your voice is oddly familiar..." Percy rubbed his temple. He knew that voice. He knew it! He had a theory given Ares' initial remarks but he did not want to think about it.
"Yes," Ares smirked, sounding pleased. "You remember me, don't you, Percival?"
Percy's face drained of colour. "Alec Lestrange."
"Yes, my initial vessel!" Ares said in contentment. "I made this vessel out of my chariot and helmet! I constructed it myself and timed it perfectly so that in the height of the first war, I would've been old enough to meet this supposed dark and dangerous wizard that is Voldemort," he rolled his eyes when Percy flinched and carried on, "and I did. He was a thing of beauty—but failure was inevitable. He has his second rising, but I am not interested in a man that has been beaten by an infant."
"Ah, I understand," Percy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure that you're far better. You wait until they turn eleven before they make a fool out of you."
"THAT WAS A MISTAKE!" Ares exclaimed hotly, "I cannot control you, Percival. You are the only mortal whose magic affects me but... I do not want to destroy you. I want to befriend you. I want you will help amplify my abilities, and I shall do the same for you. You will help me destroy my father and then we will rule this world together. All the war and the terror we'd invoke..."
Percy shuddered, ripples of pleasure in his spine.
"Do you remember the war, Percy?" Ares asked. He must have been inching in closer because his voice was louder. Percy could hear the sound of his foot paddling onto the ground. "Of course you do. You loved it. Your eyes lit up when you stared at your uncles' caskets. I was there. I remember."
"Stop it," Percy spat out coldly, lips trembling and tears burning at the corner of his eyes.
"Afraid of the only thing that will ever fulfill you, Percival?" Ares had asked.
Ares must be sitting beside him because Percy felt an instant coldness. He could not see anything. "You are not afraid of the dark. You are afraid of embracing it." Ares then ordered, "Let it."
"NO!" Percy called out weakly, but he did. His fingers tingled with delight and he felt a warmth most felt like when they were in their home as the darkness consumed him. Visions of fresh blood and rotting bone ran through his head. He could smell smoke and hear screaming. Home... but he would not enter because if he did, he would never leave. "No..."