Disclaimer: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…
Placing: After the war - could be canon…
Just an idea I had, nothing more.
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Πατέρας
(Father)
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"Some day you will have to trust the wings of your children to carry them into the sky."
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The Middle of Harry Potter's Fifth Year
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"Father," Arthur Weasley woke up when he heard the hoarse voice of his middle son next to his ear.
"Percy," he greeted the boy. "Why are you here?" After all, he knew for sure that Percy wasn't talking to him, Molly, Ron and Ginny. He wasn't even sure if Percy was talking to Charlie or Bill.
Percy's eyes roamed over his father's prone body. Arthur was more than aware of the white gauze that was adorning his neck.
"I heard that you were hurt last night," Percy said, not looking at his father's face.
"I was," Arthur agreed. "Who told you?"
Percy hummed and reached for his father's neck. Arthur, without a question, turned his head to his side to give his son access to his neck. For a moment, he could feel the soft touch of his son's fingers against the gauze on his neck, then he familiar burn of Red Death's red gleaming magic spread over his neck. He let his son assure himself of his father's wellbeing.
"My pranksters told me, Father," Percy replied. "Don't worry. There's no traitor in the Order."
Because of course his son had gone out of his way to research all of the members in the Order.
"The twins?" Arthur inquired with a sigh, clearly expecting his younger sons to be the ones who handed over the names of the members of the Order of the Phoenix over to Percy.
"They gave me their names," Percy agreed unrepentant, because that was just how he was. But then, Arthur hadn't expected the twins to stay silent. They and Percy were a soul in three bodies. What one knew, the other two knew.
"I never worried about a spy in the Order of the Phoenix," Arthur finally said. "The reason I joined in the first war was because I feared that they'd interfere with my work if I didn't. I rejoined to ensure the same – just to find out that they're even less active than they were in the first war."
"So, why do you still work with them if they don't interfere with our business like they did in the first war?" Percy asked confused.
"Because I can't explain to your mother that I only joined because I faced their interference one time too many. My pranksters, your mother's brothers, wouldn't let me go alone into a dangerous situation, so they joined with me," the father answered truthfully. "Your mother needs to feel like she's doing something after losing her brothers to the Death Eaters in the last war. Like that, she's at least not on the front lines."
Percy thought about his father's words and in the end agreed with a sigh. He knew his mother. She wanted to do something, but she wasn't willing to watch her family heed into danger. Dumbledore's inactive order must have felt like a blessing in disguise for her.
"But she might be flung in the middle of the war if the Order changes back to the way it was once," he reminded his father with a frown.
"Your mother isn't helpless," Arthur replied. "She knows her curses. She will prevail. Just like she will prevail when your brothers are forced on the front lines. It's a risk she might not want to think about, but also one, we're willing to take."
Then he raised the hand on the opposite side of his injury to caress Percy's cheek. "Just like I've long since accepted the risk I took by training you and your brothers as the immortal assassin."
Percy closed his eyes at that exclamation.
"If you hadn't trained us, we would go out there untrained, Father," Percy reminded his father calmly. "You and I both know that there's no way to stop us from entering this war. We are the Immortal Assassin. We carry his soul. We live as him and we will die with him in our souls."
Because even if his father would one day give up the part of the soul he had inside, his father's soul, just like Percy's was marred by eternity. His father and his uncles, just like Percy and his brothers, would die with immortality binding their souls. They, just like their ancestors, would forever guide the immortal assassins who were born after they were gone.
Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but Percy interrupted him before he could utter one word. "You know, we aren't just prophesied to be Red Death," Percy reminded his father. "We are born as him. The moment we opened our eyes the first time, we showed the world the truth of our soul. We are the immortal assassin. Even if you hadn't trained us, we would have been out working as an assassin, working against the darkness – just like you and our uncles would have even without been trained by grandfather."
Arthur closed his eyes resigned, fully aware of the truth in his son's words.
"You're right," he agreed with his son and sighed. "I wish you weren't, but I've always known the same truth you told me right now – spoken or unspoken, we are the Immortal Assassin. Training or no training, our soul would force us to go out and fight anyway."
Which made training even more important for the children that were born with the Immortal Assassin's soul.
Percy inclined his head, before he changed the topic of discussion. "Now, tell me how you feel, Father."
"I feel fine, even though I felt better once," Arthur replied. "I just wish that I could have done something before being bitten, but… well, I couldn't lose my cover."
So, he could only step away far enough to the side to survive, but not enough not to get hurt. The venom of the snake – even though Arthur was treated for in by St. Mungo's – wasn't a concern. The Immortal Assassin was immune to poison, no matter what kind.
Percy just pinched his nose at that.
"You knew the snake was there," he stated, not totally surprised by his father's admission.
"I did," Arthur replied unbothered. "It reeks of dark magic."
"If it does, why didn't you kill it?" Percy immediately inquired.
"Tom Riddle was looking out of its eyes when I met it," Arthur replied. "The Immortal Assassin is a myth. It was easier to simply get bitten."
Percy crooked his head. "That bite nearly killed you."
Arthur waved it off. "Exaggeration," he said. "Most of my injury was caused by a manipulation of everyone's perception of me. It wasn't basilisk venom, so it didn't even cause a fever. And it wasn't worse than basilisk-venom, so I didn't bother with an antivenom. The only thing that went a bit awry was the wound itself. It might have bled a bit, but I would have survived it even without all that." He gestured at the gauze on his neck. "Thank Merlin for magic. I'm not sure how I'd explained my rapid healing in the muggle world."
Percy snorted in amusement. "By fleeing the moment, you were admitted to the hospital," he said, a lot less worried after his father's explanation before he shook his head. "So, most of this is just for show?" He gestured at his father's prone body.
"A cover is a cover, son," his father reminded him. "And I'm only a clerk in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. I'm an untrained man, definitely unable to come out of a confrontation like the one I had with the snake unharmed."
"In other words: you made me worry for nothing," Percy concluded.
"It's not as if I had time to notify you that I would end up in St. Mungo's to maintain my cover," Arthur countered calmly. "I should have had a calm, unnecessary shift – I didn't plan to be a victim to a snake controlled by dark magic and Tom Riddle."
"Touché," Percy said and looked at the door for a second before he gestured and brought up wards that were stronger than even the best the Unspeakables had to offer.
"If you're fine and just lying about, will you help me a bit?" he asked his father who sat up. "I'd need a hand, but my hands are currently out of reach."
"Your twins are back at Grimmauld," Arthur replied, unbothered by the secret the House of Black was under as long as he didn't try to say the full address. "They are newly available. But then, why not? I always loved a good outing with my sons!"
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Voldemort would curse the Christmas of Harry's fifth year. Red Death seemed to be bored. Instead of waiting for Voldemort to act, the assassin had taken to visit some of his old friends from the last war. Avery and the oldest of the three Carrow siblings didn't survive that experience.
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1995
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Amelia Bones looked around the mansion in surprise. It wasn't often that a wizard was assassinated.
"What do we have?" she asked one of her aurors, one Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Nothing much, ma'am," Shacklebolt said sighing. "There are barely any signs of the one who entered here."
"He didn't touch anything or use magic?" Amelia asked surprised.
"He definitely didn't use magic and there are so many fingerprints of other people it's hard to see if one of them are the assassin's," Shacklebolt replied with a frown. "But, well, truthfully – I don't think any of them are."
He shook his head. "I doubt we'll find anything of him."
Amelia raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. The answer was a sigh.
"There was an unknown truthserum used on our victim. His confession has been recorded by unknown means as well as quiet a lot of evidence for his crime has been carefully recorded and bagged before it was ordered and put down next to open case-files," Shacklebolt elaborated, his hand clenched. "There's also the fact that on the victim's throat has been burned a red cross onto."
Amelia flinched.
"Red Death," she whispered before she shook her head. "But why? Why after all this time? He's been quiet for more than a decade!"
Shacklebolt gave a gallic shrug.
"The only explanation I can think of is one that the Minister wouldn't like to hear," he finally said slowly.
Amelia closed her eyes, following Shacklebolt's reasoning without trouble. "I guess you're right," she said with a sigh. "The Minister wouldn't like the idea that Red Death's return brings to the forefront of my mind."
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Red Death, not matter what anyone else would like to imply, was hunting Voldemort's men. Voldemort was back – and Red Death hot on his tails.
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Sorry, it took some time, but there's the next part of the story.
I wish everyone a good start into December, a merry Christmas time and a wonderful day!
This is for the one who named me like every year.
I hope you liked it.
'Till next time.