The Perseus Complex

The Perseus Complex

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Chapter 1- A Day In the Life

-Or-

Ganymede's Bain

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A shrill ring pierced the cold morning air, and Percy cursed himself for coming up with the brilliant idea of putting the alarm clock in the bathroom so he would have to get up to turn it off. He pulled a pillow over his ears and tried to ignore the alarm, but he gave up when it started shrieking: "Get up you lazy idiot!"

He trudged into the bathroom and threw the alarm into the toilet, not even bothering to check the time. It sputtered under the water for a moment before finally shutting down. It had been a joke at first -a gift from the twins- an alarm clock for Perfect Percy who was never late for anything. Perfect Percy would never need an alarm clock to be on time. The only problem was that Perfect Percy seemed to have drifted out of existence recently, leaving a tall young man who had suddenly realized how meaningless his life had become.

Voldemort was back. He had known it before he left home, before he had insisted on getting his own flat; but it hadn’t even registered in his mind until he started to unpack a box of books and realized that if Voldemort attacked him, here in this room, the fact that he owned a first edition of "Prefects Who Gained Power" wouldn’t even delay his death a moment. It wouldn’t matter that he had been Head Boy at Hogwarts. It wouldn’t matter that he’d had top grades. He didn’t even bother saying "You-know-who" anymore. It just didn’t matter.

Percy stared at the blurred reflection in the chipped mirror over the sink and sighed. Two weeks on his own and his life was coming apart at the seams.

What was the use of going to work of going to work to write reports on import standards when a maniacal wizard was on the loose and preparing to make import regulations completely irrelevant?

But he had to go. Dad would know he hadn’t been in to work; mum would worry. And both would come to his flat to check on him and find their son, their Perfect Percy, surrounded by dirty laundry with a hangover to boot.

He was still in his shirt and tie from last night, although the tie was now up over one ear. The shirt hung over his boxers, and he assumed, or rather hoped, that he had simply disapparated himself home last night and fallen asleep before he could take them off.

He tried to remember what had happened the previous night and was hit with a wave of nausea that made him automatically double up and turn to the toilet. He bent over it, bracing his arms on the side and waited for the vomit to come, but it didn’t. There was nothing to vomit; he hadn’t eaten in days. Stomach acid ran up his throat and washed back down, but that was the extent of the qualm.

A shaking hand was thrust into the icy water and pulled out the clock. Squinting so he could make out the glowing red numbers on the clock, he swore loudly. Not enough time to even take a shower. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. He should shave, but again, he didn’t have time.

With one hand pulling the tie off of his head and the other desperately trying to comb his hair, he ran back into the bedroom. He grabbed the nearest pair of pants and pulled them on, feeding the tie through the belt loops as a makeshift belt. He fumbled for his glasses and jammed them on.

Sliding the messenger bag he carried his papers in over his shoulder, he burst out of the flat and into the hallway. He had to leave the building the muggle way so his neighbors didn’t get suspicious. Not that they weren’t already. The general opinion held by the other tenants was that he was a kind but definitely eccentric young man who always got a bit nervous when anyone asked him about his line of work. Of course, old Mrs. Nettle was sure that he was dealing in drugs, but then Mrs. Nettle was also convinced that Bernie the janitor was really the head of a vast spy network. No one paid her much attention.

He apparated to the ministry building from an alley. If he remembered correctly, he had a spare set of ministry robes in his office. If he didn’t, well, it didn’t really matter. He could apparate home now and get them since he’d already made his appearance of walking out of the building.

Home was a funny word now. The flat with all it's dirty laundry hardly felt like home, but neither did the Burrow anymore. It was over and done with as much as his dormitory at Hogwarts; but he could remember both so clearly it was painful, from the smoke that sporadically poured out from under the door to the twins' room to the corner of the dormitory that was always covered in quidditch banners tacked up in a precise and planned arrangement by Oliver at the start of every term.

The room felt strange somehow when he entered. An eagle stirred in the corner of his vision and was gone when he looked for it straight on through the lenses of his glasses. He went a drawer at the bottom of his desk. The robes were inside, but he never had a chance to put them on. Before he could even pick them up, the door creaked open. His heart thundered for a moment before he froze and fell to the floor, but not of his own accord. A levitation spell lifted the stunned body off the ground. Several dark figures now grabbed his body, but one paused for a moment and picked the boy's glasses off the floor with a shaking hand. They disapparated in unison.

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"Is it ready yet?" sneered Lucius as he examined the body on the table. He still didn’t see how this would work, but now he could always throw the blame onto Wormtail if necessary.

"Almost," muttered Avery as he set up charms around the boy’s wrists, ankles, and neck.

"Put one across the waist too."

"Yes, in a moment."

"What- what are those for?" asked Wormtail as he timidly approached the table like a beaten dog approaches its owner.

"Honestly," scoffed Lucius. "We have to bring him out of the stunning spell in order to start the test. That means that he’s going to regain consciousness for several seconds. The charms, if Avery can set them properly, will hold him down until it knocks him out again."

"Done!" said Avery sharply. He stepped back from the table with his wand still pointing at the body.

"Enervate!" Lucius pointed his wand at the table.

Immediately the muscles tensed, the fists clenched. The dark blue eyes shot open and stared in shock at the three men standing over him. He struggled to move, but the spells held him down tight. The charm around his neck cut into his throat like coarse rope as he breathed.

"Why?" he whispered as his eyes ran over the men again. They ignored him, setting the complex charm into motion. He squinted, tried to make out their faces, tried to see where he was while he pulled at the charms on his wrists desperately.

But then the test began, and his body fell limp once more.