Dust

As always, a thousand thanks for my beta-reader Haggridd who puts up with more crap from me than anyone would believe. Be glad he's here readers, he always improves anything I write by 110%.

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Dedicated to everyone in the world who has experience loss, shock, and sorrow in the recent destruction of the World Trade Centers and the Pentagon; also dedicated to the tireless workers who search through the rubble for survivors.

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Dust. It was the dust that surprised him the most. Dust filled the air. Dust stuck to the ground, the trees, the rocks, coating the surroundings with a gray paste. You couldn't escape it. The few times he left the site to eat and catch a moment of sleep, he found the chalky scent of it still in his hair and imbedded in his skin.

Percy paused for a moment from the tricky job he was doing. He dared not pull down the mask fastened over his mouth, or the enchanted goggles protecting his eyes. Even a couple of days after the collapse, the dust still hung around, throwing a ghostly aura over everything. The first squad of Aurors that had descended upon the site immediately had been smothered to death, unable to fight the strange Curse. Those that, amazingly, had lived were now blind. While the dust had quickly lost its power, Aurors were still advising volunteers that prolonged exposure could be detrimental and were urging everyone to continue to wear protective gear.

He looked around at all the wizards and witches who were still calmly and quietly working. Grimy and sooty, they held their wands and steadfastly picked away at the massive spell that held the ruins on the ground. It was a tough Curse, resistant to any sort of Countercharm. The only way to get rid of it, picking away piece by piece, took intense concentration.

Nearby, not thirty feet away, worked Arthur Weasley. As he straightened his bent frame, Percy caught his father's eye for a quick moment. Through the goggles, they looked empty and nearly expressionless. Percy was unsure whether his father could actually see him anymore.

A hand touched Percy's arm. It was Bill. "He's taken it hard. Give him…time." The oldest Weasley son's voice cracked a bit and he avoided Percy's eyes. As he ran his other hand through his long hair, the dust rose in a thick white cloud.

Percy stifled his response, the urge to say "I've taken it hard as well!" He wasn't sure that Bill would understand that. After all, wasn't he Percy, the one most cut-off from his family? Wouldn't he be least affected, the one who wouldn't care…

Turning back to the huge piece of stone he was working on, Percy gritted his teeth against the wave of sorrow, the emotion that threatened to choke him worse than the dust ever could. Crying, sobbing, wailing would do no good now. Not when there was work to be done. Not when there was a chance someone could be alive.

He still wanted to cry though. He hadn't yet. He hadn't had the chance.

It was a bright, sunny day. Blue sky, chirping birds, and all that sentimental rot. Percy had settled at his small desk, preparing to work on his latest report against the dangers of sketchy Cushioning Charms on brooms. The list had gotten as far as dangerous chafing when someone had burst into his tiny office.

"Percy! It's…oh…horrible…come now!"

Frowning that his work had been disturbed, Percy got up, report clutched in hand. "Calm down Terrence. What has happened exactly? Is it the Daily Prophet again?"

"Oh…no…come…"

Terry grabbed Percy's arm and dragged him out from behind his desk and into the main office of the Department for International Magical Cooperation. It seemed as if most the office staff were there, gazing at the News Fireplace with glazed looks on their faces.

"What is this? Why is everyone…"

"Shhh!" Several of the people, with tears plain in their eyes, glared at him. Realizing that something dire had indeed happened, Percy focused all his attention on the flickering flames where a NewsWizard's head floated.

"We don't know much yet, only that a large smoke cloud was spied over where the Hogwarts School is situated. There is no need for panic. No Dark Marks have been sighted in the sky. The guess is that a fire has started in the school, one that cannot be fought by magical means. No need for alarm, we expect to get…wait…wait…I'm getting word…oh no…"

Percy gripped his report tighter in his hand as the NewsWizard's face fell.

"This is official word from Officials at the Ministry of Magic. It appears that someone has attacked the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We don't know how extensive the damage is or if anyone has survived. We do know that the castle has collapsed and the first hit squad of Aurors on the scene have died due to an undefined lingering Curse…"

Percy's breath caught short, the forgotten papers falling to the floor. One thought was in his head. "Dad…"

Percy pushed through the stunned crowd of wizards and witches, ran out into the hall, and headed for the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. The journey was a blur, all he could think of was that he needed to tell his dad what had happened.

The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office looked like the one he had just left. Everyone was standing in the main office, staring (or weeping) at the NewsFire. Percy burst in and several people turned shocked faces to him.

"My dad…Arthur Weasley…" Percy panted, grabbing one wizard by the arm.

"He's…he's gone already. Apparated…I think…to Hogwarts…"

Gasping out a thank you, Percy turned on his heel and raced out. He had to follow his father. Not stopping for anything and pulling his wand out of his robes, he got out of the Ministry and promptly Apparated.

Percy had to make the jump several times; he didn't have quite enough experience to Apparate straight from the Ministry in London to Hogwarts in Scotland. But thankfully, he had made the journey before. The last jump brought him to at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

It was hard to see through all the dust in the air; it looked as if the entire area had been painted gray. He could however see far enough ahead to make out huge piles of stone rubble. Percy ran forward, coughing at the gray dust. He passed the Whomping Willow - now dead -- up the path to the heaps of stone. He didn't even see the Auror in a mask and goggles until he was grabbed.

"You can't go in there. You need to leave the area now."

"But my brothers! My sister! They went to Hogwarts! And my mother she was…" Percy was nearly hysterical, his voice babbling. Ash rushed into his mouth and he didn't even try to spit it out.

The Auror took a closer look at him. "A Weasley? Your father appeared here not long ago. He's on the other side. You can go to him, but you CANNOT go nearer to the accident site. Here, put on this mask and goggles…"

Percy snatched the proffered items from the Auror's hand and put them on hurriedly. He took off running again, to the other side of the collapsed Hogwarts, all the while thinking "Accident site? Accident? How could this be an accident?"

He spotted his father at once, even through the clouds of dust. For once, it was a blessing that his family had such a distinctive color of hair. He ran forward, grabbing his father's arm. "Da…Father? Have they? What is it? Are they…"

Arthur turned. He had a facemask on and his eyes through the goggles looked flat. "They're still in there. I'm getting them out."

They had been working at just that for nearly three days, along with the Aurors and any wizards or witches that had volunteered to help. It hadn't been long the first day before Bill and Charlie had shown up, eyes wild with fear. His father hadn't been able to speak to them, couldn't speak; it was Percy who had to say that Mum, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny hadn't been found and were under all the rubble. He remembered how their eyes had widened and how they had practically launched themselves, wands in hand, at what was left of Hogwarts.

Percy focused his eyes on his work. Muttering a complex spell under his breath, a silvery burst shot out of his wand, attaching to the rock in front of him. Slowly, oh so slowly, a bit of the spell that was holding the rock firmly downward dissipated. He had nearly half the rock done now, soon he would be able to levitate it out of the way and see what was underneath.

He was scared to find out what was underneath.

Percy stood awkwardly at the Platform Nine and Three Quarters at Kings Cross Station. All the trunks were on the train, the twins had been divested of all their jokespells, and good-byes were now being said.

"…Molly, are you sure about this?"

Mrs. Weasley shot a cheery smile at Arthur. "Certainly. After what has…happened, I want to keep a close eye on everyone. Especially these two," she said, shooting a glare at the twins who scowled back. "No more Canary Custards this year. I'll be making sure they study for their N.E.W.T.s!"

"It's Canary Creams," muttered Fred.

"I don't care if it's Dungbomb Popsicles, you won't be doing any of that! If you're to get into the Ministry, you need to get better scores than you did on your O.W.L.s. Besides, dear," said Molly, turning her attention back to her husband, "Dumbledore said it was perfectly all right. In fact, several other parents are going to Hogwarts with their children as well. After all, it is one of the safest places in the Wizarding World. It's you and Percy I'm worried about, a clear target in the Ministry…"

"You shouldn't, the Ministry's protections are nearly as strong as Hogwarts'." Arthur sighed, clearly upset. "Well I'll visit on weekends and I'll bring Percy. We can only hope that the…troubles will soon subside, and you can come back home." The sadness in his voice was clear.

"I know dear. We can only hope."

Percy had watched the train leave, waving with his father. That had been the last time he had seen the twins, Ron, Ginny, and his mother. On the day that term had started at Hogwarts, someone (presumably Voldemort) had attacked and destroyed the school.

He hadn't even taken that last chance at Kings Cross to hug everyone good-bye.

Rawness welled up in his throat; Percy savagely swallowed it down. He would not give in, not now. Only later, when he was alone, and could cry until his eyes bled. He couldn't now, not when Ginny might be trapped somewhere afraid, or Ron could be barely alive, or the twins could be running out of air, or his mum might be hoping Percy would find her. Not when the monster that had struck the school down was still out there and might try to flatten completely what was left. Not when crying meant that there was no hope, that he would have to admit that they were truly gone, that his family would be permanently halved.

Percy summoned up his shield of indifference and savagely poked his wand at the rock before him. Stolidly he continued to chip away at this monstrous Curse that wouldn't even allow rescuers to rescue those who might be alive and to bury those who had died. Inch by inch they made progress, and simply hoped that they next broken hand found was attached to a living, breathing body.