Savior of Darkness

Chapter 3: The Blame Game

Gravity seemed to be playing tricks. On the outside, he felt dragged down to the ground, unable for even the slightest inclinations. Yet internally, everything felt airy, risen above comprehension. Rage, grief, frustration, guilt, terror, stabs of pain and waves of trembles that had started low and steady had been violently expelled from him by now. An unsteady voidness now inflated him, keeping him from collapsing within as he leaned over to say goodbye.

Poised above her still form on the bed in the infirmary, he noticed a slight imperfection that he couldn't have in his memory. He knew she would be cold and hard to touch, rigid from death that had filled her being. Even still he bravely reached out and pushed the stray lock out of her face where it had strewn itself across her left cheek. Even matted with dirt and sweat, her hair was still as supple as he had remembered his mother's being, that long time ago when he had curled his fingers round the soft locks while being carried.

His lungs felt on fire - he had to remember to breath. The air around her seemed toxic, for it burned his nostrils, contracted his throat and brought tears to his eyes. She hadn't gone peacefully. No matter what comfort that lie brought his family, he knew it not to be true. Her clothing was torn, her hair ragged and dirty, her posed arms blue from more than death.

A hand clasped his shoulder, and instinctively his muscles contracted. Pulling himself together, he whispered softly, "Goodnight, Ginny." Saying that would be easier on his mother than saying goodbye. It was easier on him, as well.

He backed away, as the hand slid down and his mother came from behind him to stand beside Ginny. In her still form, she reminded him of Penny these past few weeks. His throat constricted again. Yes, Penny was still alive, but she was hurt. And Ginny would never be cured... and he'd done nothing to help prevent either situation. His mind mercilessly battered him about these facts until he felt his mother shaking beside him. She was sobbing quietly. That sight was more disturbing than most things he had seen. Yes, Molly Weasley cried easily, as easily as she laughed and yelled. But one thing she almost never was, was quiet.

Ron was following their mother's suite. He was sitting on the ground, shaking as he blamed himself. It was a sight that tore him apart as well. It embarrassed him and filled him with envy, the ease with which his brother expressed his sorrow. How he just let the others know his feelings so crudely, yet so simply and uncompromisingly. Percy's heart twinged, and his desire to protect his fragile and unseeming family filled a bit of the emptiness.

"Ron, stop." He said it a bit brusquely. He felt too raw to explain to Ron how useless his actions were, too tired to tell him that he needed one of his brothers to be strong with him, to care for everyone else.

Ron glared at him. "I won't stop, you unfeeling prat. Maybe you don't care enough to cry over our sister, but I do, you bloody git!"

"And don't talk like that in front of Mum."

"Oh, right, we must follow the bloody rules all the time, because that's all that's important, right?" But Ron did stand up and reign himself in a bit.

Charlie and Bill arrived just then, stumbling through the narrow door together and followed by Dumbledore. They stood silent for a moment, before sweeping past Percy with a shoulder clasp and solemn nod. They each enveloped Ron in hugs, and gave a few words and shakes to George and Fred, who had been in an uncharacteristic silent freeze since last night. Finally, they turned to Arthur and Molly - and Ginny. Percy told himself he didn't smart at this slight of attention. He knew that outwardly he was in much better condition than the rest of his family. That had been his goal, for him not to be a burden and one more thing for them to think about. It also gave him a sick sort of pleasure, to know that in even the most extreme circumstances he could remain calm. He could hold his own, and not need others. He could remain in control.

Percy turned away, feeling he should give them privacy even though they were his family. In doing so, he found himself facing Dumbledore. Percy hadn't seen him since last night, when Dumbledore had spent hours with them before leaving to give them privacy with Ginny. He looked awful, much worse than Percy had ever seen him. He was pale and fatigued - and even worse, he appeared uncertain. Straining his memory as hard as he could, Percy could never remember Dumbledore looking like that. He must have looked stricken, for Dumbledore quickly composed himself and smiled at Percy.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired in his gravelly voice.

Percy considered that. It had been a long time since anyone asked him that. His family had gotten so used to his abrupt answer of "fine" each time that they stopped inquiring. "Fine," he finally answered, as the rest of the Weasleys became aware of Dumbledore's presence.

~*~

Albus smiled a gentle smile at Percy's response, in on the family joke. Gently shifting him aside, Albus passed over to where McGonagall stood with the adult Weasleys. He let them raise their eyes to his before he spoke. "Arthor, Molly, I hope I am not intruding."

Arthur shook his head, his voice trembling slightly. "You're always welcomed, Headmaster."

Albus gave him a gentle smile. "I cannot think of a place I'd rather be than with your family. Though I know there are no words right now, so I will not offer them needlessly." Molly gripped his hand, giving him a watery smile that somehow reminded him of her as one of his pupils countless years ago. Stripped to her core, she was still recognizable. But barely.

Silence came again, and Albus let it. He waited until he had something more to offer than his presence. Molly was fingering Ginny's red and gold striped tie. Sparked, Albus quietly offered, "As you know, Ginny displayed remarkable qualities befitting a Gryffindor. I wish she had gone for help -"

"But she did go for help," Ron burst in. A bit bitterly at himself he added, "She went to that Tom."

Tom Riddle. Albus had, of course, told the Weasleys about Ginny's demise, and said that Tom was unavailable for them to thank. It would have been useless not to, since Ron knew the story. He didn't know how much history Arthur and Molly knew of the Chamber, and of Riddle. He was almost positive they didn't connect young Riddle with Voldemort, but he certainly didn't want them focusing on either notion or drawing connections. But it wasn't right to brush past Ron's comment either.

Instead, Albus walked over and put a hand on Ron's shoulder. Nothing needed to be said.

Arthur gave him a weak smile. The man looked green, and the only way he and Molly were still standing was by holding each other up. Yet his voice didn't waver, and his hand still caressed his daughter. "Thank you, Albus. We will take her with us, immediately. The funeral should be tomorrow, or - or the day after."

Albus then went and clasped Arthur's hand that rested on Ginny. It was solid and dry, a comforting touch. "Never fear. Make the arrangements suitable for you. Until then, perhaps your family," he gestured behind him, to the Weasley children, "would go home with you?"

Molly nodded firmly. "We already thought that. If they can just pack up, now -"

"I think I should stay here." Percy's voice cut through, like a scalpel. All eyes snapped down on him. Albus saw his hands clenched, either from tension or to quell fear. He looked nauseous and his eyes were locked on Ginny.

"What the -" Every one of the Weasley children began to barge down on him when Molly overtook them all.

"Silence!" Her brood calmed only in vocal terms. "Percy, what in blazes are you talking about?"

Percy didn't stir. "Not for the funeral, of course," he answered. "But until then, I think I should stay here. I can be more use here, to get Ron's and Fred and George's work, and to help smooth things here. Or help Professor Sprout with the Mandrake potions to cure the petrification."

"Work?" The twins finally stirred. Fred turned to George and asked scathingly, "Are we really sure he's not one of those House Elves, with the attention he gives to work?"

"Nah," George answered. "He doesn't have enough heart. Could be the Minister, though."

"Percy." Albus drew his gaze away from Ginny. "Why do you really wish to stay here?"

Nothing came out the first time Percy's mouth opened. Albus was worried he might be having a fit of hysteria, but Percy gained control enough to respond to his brothers' jibes with an air of confidence, "I just don't think I'd be of use at home. I want to stay here." His eyes dropped back to Ginny. "It's not like I'd see her between now and the funeral. I just don't feel I should be there."

His brothers turned away in disgust, and Albus sighed. He loved the Weasleys, but most of them had the same character flaw. They were too quick to fly off the handle, to give in to anger rather than to think clearly first. Percy was the only one who seemed immune to this trait. And Ginny... Albus hadn't known her well enough to tell about her. But Percy didn't seem anywhere near as confident as his family was, accepting in their hurt and fury.

Dumbledore turned to Arthur and Molly and said softly, "People react to despair in different ways. If he feels he must be useful, I would let him."

"His family could use him," Molly said angrily, but hushed enough so none of the children overheard. It was even too quiet for Ginny to have heard, had she been able to.

Albus nodded slowly. "True as that may be, he might feel he is doing something for his family in this. The human being is a complex thing. Sometimes, too frustrating than one is up to figuring out." He knew Arthur and Molly couldn't begin to comprehend any of this right now. But they deferred their judgment to him. Once again, he was a pillar of reason and etiquette for someone.

"If you think we should let him be, we will," Arthur said. He looked at Percy, with a mixture of confusion and guilt. He obviously didn't understand his son, and therefore felt guilt that some part of that was his fault. Raising his voice, he called, "Boys - those of you coming with us - get your things. We're leaving in fifteen minutes."

Fred, George and Ron piled out of the room, none looking at Percy. Charlie and Bill stared at him, trying to understand, but gave up in frustration after a few minutes. They followed their younger brothers to help them pack. At the door, Bill paused and looked at Percy until he got a glance. "See you at the funeral," he said carefully. Percy nodded, and Bill disappeared out the door.

Taking a deep breath, Percy turned back to face his parents. They were silent for a moment, before Arthur started pushing the magicked floating bed toward the door. Pausing next to Percy, he took a deep breath and said, "Owl us if you need anything."

"Or if you change your mind." Molly looked like she said that harsher than she had planned. Percy blanched but was immobile, even when his mother added with greater gentleness, "And... we love you."

Percy had trouble forcing himself to look at them, apparently. His gaze kept returning to the bland floor pattern. "Love you, too." His parents started toward the door, when Percy rang out, "And ..."

They turned, expectantly. Percy only went slightly red, and finished, "And - I'll take care of things here." An unsure moment past, before the Weasleys simply nodded and left. Left alone with Albus, it was evident the boy was turning into his own private thoughts.

~*~

He didn't deserve their saying they loved him. Much, in the same way, he felt they didn't deserve his. Percy felt ashamed. He had almost lost it back there. But seeing his sister, his only little sister, lying there from a courage he didn't know even existed within him, and listening to Dumbledore praise her and lament her - he simply couldn't take it. He would not have been able to hold it together back at the house, with his family around constantly. The altruistic part didn't want to burden his family with himself. The selfish part didn't, couldn't, give them the support they needed. He didn't have it in him - he hadn't the resolve to find it right then. And that made him lower than anything he could imagine. Lower than Voldemort, even.

And the other part of him felt anger. Unwarranted anger, but anger nonetheless that gripped him from head to toe. He couldn't give support, but he needed it desperately. Even though he couldn't say so, even though he knew he hadn't shown it, had told himself he hadn't wanted his family to pick up on it, part of him wanted it nonetheless. When had he become so disconnected, so good at distancing himself, that his family could no longer read him? Did they even try anymore?

Percy was so wrapped in his thoughts that he almost missed Dumbledore and McGonagall approaching him.

Before they said anything, he said quickly, "I should get to class, then." He couldn't sit by Penny until he'd done some good.

McGonagall shook her head. "I don't think that would be the most prudent idea at the moment."

He turned to Dumbledore. "Sir, I can't just go to my room."

Dumbledore eyed him thoughtfully. "You do not think it would be best if you managed some rest? I doubt classes would be useful to you right now."

Percy shook his head rapidly. "I'm not - I couldn't sleep, sir. I know I couldn't." Dumbledore looked at McGonagall and sighed. Just then a house-elf entered the infirmary carrying a small envelope in her dusty hands. Dumbledore took it and, with a small frown, pulled McGonagall over to read it.

After a few minutes of silence, in which Percy did Arithmacy problems in his head to calm and focus himself, Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped back over to him. Neither looked pleased.

McGonagall spoke. "Percy, there is something that you can do to be...useful. If you are sure you're up to it. It shouldn't take long."

Percy longed to stop feeling so utterly futile and undeserving of being a Gryffindor. "Anything," he replied with firmer confidence than he could feel.

McGonagall sighed, and then waved Dumbledore to continue. He said seriously, "Percy, several members of the Ministry are meeting here soon. I will require certain members of the faculty to be present at that meeting. What I would like from you is - to look after someone."

Percy was puzzled. "Look after someone, sir?"

Dumbledore had that uncertain look about him again, but he continued on with the assurance that always befitted him. "Tom Riddle, actually. You see, Lockhart Obliviated his memory not long ago - yes, I know. Anyway, perhaps you could take him to your classes, so professors would be present - yes, that seems better. Take him with you to classes or the Great Hall, where there will be other people. Show him about a bit. Try not to overload him with information, it will just frustrate him. Simply the basics, and be sensitive to the situation. That should not be too strenuous on either of you, hopefully." Dumbledore's thoughtful tone led Percy to believe that, as usual, there was far more going on in the Headmaster's mind than he was telling.

~*~

And, indeed, Albus was musing. Percy was a capable wizard, he knew. One of the finest students at the moment in ability and experience. Percy also needed something to distract his mind, and Albus knew he would focus in on any task given with a fierce attention to detail. If anything seemed amiss, Percy would report it. And in the presence of the other professors, there was a lesser risk. As much as there could be, until the Ministry and teachers figured out what to do next.

The Ministry had already reinstated him, and was planning on meeting with him now to discuss Riddle. And Hagrid - he must see to Hagrid. Too much to do all at the same moment. He glanced at McGonagall and saw her nod. However reluctant, in the bind they were in this seemed like the best option. And, Albus told himself, Percy was a Gryffindor. The thought was comforting.

Albus looked for Percy's response to his proposal.

Percy nodded solemnly. Pure determination coupled with the haunting memory of his sister would drive him to do exactly what Albus needed of him. And, hopefully help him, along the way.

Dumbledore pulled himself up and said, "Well, see Professor Snape. Tom is with him. And please tell Professor Snape to join me in my office." Percy nodded and began heading for the door. A stab of fear caught Albus and he couldn't help but call out the warning as innocuously as he could, "And do not give any credence to whatever Tom says. In his state, he does not know what he's saying, so try not to take any of it too seriously. And, let me know afterward if anything is amiss, and how he is doing. Understand?"

Percy gave no indication that anything was strange about his orders. In retrospect, the orders made sense in dealing with someone who had just lost their memory after all, Dark Lord or not. But he wasn't a Dark Lord, Dumbledore reminded himself. Tom wasn't Voldemort. Not yet.

~*~

Percy had never been to Snape's private rooms before. He only knew how to get there by asking the Bloody Baron, who was in a good enough humor to tell him since the scare of the Chamber was over. It was difficult to walk down the halls. The glances that people shot over his head, the whispers he heard floating around him and through him put him on edge. He wanted to shout at them, to get them to crawl into a hole that wouldn't keep smacking him in the face with the obviousness of his loss. He had walked these halls for over five years now, Ginny had for only a few months. And yet now, she haunted every step. And the other students weren't letting her spirit rest any easier around him.

Snape's rooms were in the dungeon as well. The whole bottom of the castle seemed to be Slytherin territory, what with Snape's quarters, the Slytherin common rooms, and the Potions classroom.

Percy walked silently around the twisting undergrounds until he came upon the door that led to Snape's rooms. It had the same wood and iron latches that the rest of the doors of the castle had. However, the small sign next to it reading Professor Severus Snape made it much less welcoming.

Taking a deep breath, Percy raised his hand and knocked. Inside, he heard a slight rustling but he couldn't make out the noise. In a few moments the door was flung open and Snape appeared. His hair was as oily as every, and had stiffened into odd angles. His clothing was rumpled enough to make one suspect that they hadn't been changed from the other day. His shadowed eyes gave a guarded glare at Percy.

He proceeded to stand in the doorway, blocking the room as Percy explained in detail Dumbledore's orders. By his look it was hard to discern whether he agreed with Dumbledore's logic or not, but in the end he just gruffly told Percy to wait, before slamming the door.

Percy stood there, chafing a bit. He had respect for Snape's abilities in Potions, but the man often showed pettiness and the emotional maturity of a toddler. Percy had had to fight tooth and nail to receive his strong marks in potions for the simple reason that he was not a Slytherin. He had finally through the years earned a modicum of grudging respect from Snape for his abilities. However, it had been a long haul, and Percy was convinced that Snape would take great pleasure in seeing him slip up somewhere. That had only inspired Percy to devote even more energy into perfecting his performance in Potions, though he doubted that Snape had been trying for the role of motivator.

Finally, the door opened again. This time, Percy could faintly see the bearings of a person standing behind Snape. He craned his neck, but Snape blocked him. Leaning down, he hissed quietly, "Be mindful of what Dumbledore said. Understand?"

Percy nodded and replied, "Yes, sir." There was a beat where they stood staring each other down, before Snape reluctantly moved past them saying, "Very well. Follow me to the Great Hall. I will leave you two there." And after he had swished by, Percy got his first look at Tom Riddle.

Age was hard to discern at times. The figure before him was tall, but had the smooth features of one about Percy's own age. Yet his eyes seemed much older, clouded and impenetrable. In stance he was coiled, arms drawn in protectively and on guard should someone break the imaginary barrier surrounding him. It made sense, considering what he had been through. Percy almost smiled at that. His mother would be proud of him for having empathy at this moment. Percy couldn't give himself that much credit. The empathy must be a defense mechanism, for him not to think about Ginny. Maybe it was heartless to think of others at a time when he should be consumed with his own grief. He couldn't say with confidence where he stood.

Snape was standing impatiently over them. Realizing his haste, Percy hurriedly stuck out his hand in formal greeting. "Nice to meet you. I'm Percy Weasley."

At the mention of his last name, Tom visibly perked. Unlike Snape, Tom seemed to have a natural grace in his bearing, and sensitivity for the situation. "Was the girl your sister? I'm very sorry about your loss. She was well-respected, from what I have heard since then."

Percy nodded, struggling not to choke. "And I wanted to thank you, as well."

Tom looked a bit confused for a second. "For what?"

"For going around with him to keep his mind off the sorrowful day," Snape butted in smoothly. Percy immediately picked up that Ginny was a topic off-limits for now. They probably didn't want to rattle poor Tom, he thought a bit scathingly. It might have been for his own well-being too, but Percy didn't see how he could keep his thoughts off of her.

"Well, we should be going. Some class must be starting soon," Snape said in the same brisk voice he used when unsettled. He motioned for Tom and Percy to lead, and followed close behind them.

Percy swallowed as the started up the dank, moist stairs to civilization as he knew it. It was hard to think of things to converse about with Snape there. The man's mere presence put everyone Percy knew on edge. He was practically salivating with curiosity about Tom. What was it like, to have one's memory obliterated? What was he going to do now? Did he remember anything at all? Percy knew these questions couldn't really be asked in all polite sensitivity, but they clouded his thoughts and prevented shallower inquiries from rising.

~*~

I didn't really know what to make of the Weasley beside me. He seemed an odd mixture of composure and unbridled emotion. It was understandable, I supposed. However, feeling unsure, I decided to let him lead the conversation for awhile.

I heard Snape's rhythmic steps behind us. The other night had been one of discomfort, mostly for him. I did not take it personally, for the man seemed ill at ease with any company. He was brusque and awkward even with the servant, whom he called a house-elf, who had brought food in. Neither one of us had slept much, if at all. Snape had stayed in his chair beside a small, littered desk while I had been placed on an old red couch. It had been ugly and smelled of dust undisturbed for years, but it served it purpose. I had been too terrified to sleep. The mere thought of losing what little consciousness I maintained now was enough to keep my eyes firmly open though burning. And Snape had sat there, making each of us aware of every breath we took and shift we made. Neither one of us seemed willing to be the first to give in, so an unfettered silence had reigned.

It must have been part of the man's character to leave others speechless, for now Percy had joined our silence. Or else, Percy was just like us in that respect. Either way, I would find out soon, for we had apparently reached the Great Hall. It had to be, for those were the only words that came to mind upon staring into the enormous space with a clear sky above and warmly decorated tables buzzing.

After giving us a curt farewell, Snape took off down a left corridor. Percy and I were left staring at each other. Finally remembering that he was the host, Percy offered, "Would you like to eat something? We probably have whatever you could want."

I shrugged. "Not really. You can eat if you want." Percy squinted momentarily. It was an interesting moment, where one could almost feel the tense struggle in the admittance of hunger and the weakness implicit within it.

Finally Percy shrugged as well. "I couldn't be less hungry."

"Well, the Great Hall seems a pretty futile destination for us then."

Looking at a hanging clock, Percy thought for a moment than offered, "The alternative is sitting through Charms." I gave a minute shrug and we heading to the classrooms. Percy added, "It can be fairly entertaining. Flitwick is good, even though some of the kids don't make any effort at all." He sounded as if that were unfathomable to do.

"Are they particularly good at magic?" I asked. He paused a moment as if struggling between tact and honesty before shaking his head. I smiled and added, "Then perhaps its good they don't try it that often."

Percy smiled back and admitted, "I have thought that on occasion."

We rounded a corner and ran into several of the students I had seen the night before. They wore smooth black robes that bore the same Slytherin markings that Snape 's had had. The boy with the pale hair that Snape had called Malfoy was speaking. His tone carried a swagger and his delicate, pointy face was drawn in a scowl. "It would be a stupid Gryffindor to try to go play heroics and get themselves killed without really accomplishing anything. How common."

I stepped aside to study Percy's face as rage overtook it. Barely reigned in through clenched teeth he spat, "Try saying that to my face, Malfoy."

Malfoy turned slowly as if in complete disinterest. Upon seeing Percy and I he raised an eyebrow and said calmly, "I think you heard me, Weasel. Nice, that you're here to defend her now. Bet you she wishes you or one of your kennel was there when she was dying." He stared at Percy's face, a sneer drawing up his lips. He kept a loose hand on his wand, and I thought he stood a good chance of needing to use it when a voice broke the moment.

"Draco, I hope we are playing nicely with the children." The lackadaisical drawl spun me round to see a tall man with features similar to Draco. His perfectly straight hair reached classy black robes tailored to an imposing figure. I caught my breath as his cool gaze paused to rest on me alone.