Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Percy Weasley
Genres:
Angst Drama
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 10/30/2005
Updated: 10/30/2005
Words: 3,295
Chapters: 1
Hits: 325

Because They Think They Can

Lanni Weasley

Story Summary:
One January night in 1981, six year-old Percy Weasley writes a story about a dark and stormy night and the "bad wizards". He has questions about the war that neither of his parents are sure how to answer.

Posted:
10/30/2005
Hits:
325
Author's Note:
I wrote this fic after taking a title from


Because They Think They Can
Lanni Weasley

It was a dark and stormy night, much like every other night during the springtime, but no one really cares about that because this night was even more dark and stormy. Oh, and it was very spooky, too...

Young Percy pushed his glasses back up higher onto the bridge of his noise. The glasses used to belong to his father and were much too big for Percy's small nose, but until next week, when they had enough money saved up for a new (used but better) pair of glasses, he wore his father's old ones without a lick of complaints. He was lucky enough as he was to at least have glasses; he supposed that some children in the Soviet Union didn't have any glasses. There was no way he'd complain because that would just be rude of his parents.

Right now, however, Percy was busy doing the writing work his mother had sent him to do. It was around eight o'clock, right around the time she fed hid baby brother, Ronald. Fred and George had been sent to their bedroom earlier because they wouldn't pay attention when his mother had been trying to teach them how to read. Percy didn't quite understand why the twins had whined so much and messed around; he loved to read and write. He'd have to make sure that Ron grew up to like smart things, like reading, writing, chess, and stuff like that.

His mother walked into the room from the kitchen holding Ron in one arm and a warm bottle of milk in her free hand.

"Mummy," Percy said, as he thought of what to write next, not even bothering to look up at her, "when is Daddy getting home?"

"Coming, Percy, dear, not 'getting'," his mother yawned as she sat down on the couch. He liked it when she gave him corrections because that meant he could always improve. "Your father should be home any time now."

Percy nodded his head and went back to his work obediently. He bent over his paper, squinting his eyes in an attempt to think better, and pressed the top of the quill to the parchment. If he was going to become an author (like his father, who was also an "author"), he'd have to continue practicing his writing skills. He wanted to make his father and mother very proud of him, but the only thing so far he seemed to be good at was reading. He pressed on.

Of course, inside the house, it was warm and cozy. But it was still a dark and stormy night for the people outside the house...

"Mummy," Percy said again, this time raising his head up to look back at her. "What are the bad wizards called?"

"Percy, why on earth would you want to know such a thing?" his mother questioned, a bit of shrillness in her voice. She held onto Ron protectively until he gave a small utter of annoyance; she loosened her hold on him a little. "What are you writing about?"

Percy looked down at his parchment, grinning broadly. "A dark and stormy night!"

His mother sighed and relaxed, making Ron more comfortable. Percy looked at her expectantly. "Well, they're called Death Eaters," she whispered, like she was afraid they'd pop up if she spoke their name too loudly. Percy wrote the name down and a little more to his story. His mother watched him carefully and then looked back down to Ron when he began to make noises again. "Ah, Ronald, do go to sleep some time tonight..."

Percy stood up and yawned as he stretched. He'd finish his story tomorrow so his mother and father could read it together at breakfast when everyone was wide awake. Right now, it was his bedtime, and he was tired. He sat down on the couch next to his mother, snuggling against the warmth of her body and clothing, and peered at the baby Ron with his chin on his mother's arm.

"He doesn't sleep as much as the twins did when they were his age," Percy pointed out while he let Ron grab on of his own small fingers.

His mother sighed. "And now the twins barely sleep at all." She smiled sleepily. "Oh, Ron will come to sleep soon enough."

"But why doesn't he now?"

"Well," his mother began, "babies are very sensitive to what's going on around them - some more than others - and now..." She looked at the large clock that sat across the room, all hands pointing to 'Mortal Peril' like they usually did.

"Is it because of" - Percy lowered his voice - "the war?"

His mother nodded her head. They sat in silence, watching the last embers in the fireplace die out while Ron finished off his bottle and began to coo. His mother began to slide her finger across Ron's small face to try to make him fall asleep.

"Mummy," Percy said once more, "why are they fighting?"

His mother looked over to him, opened her mouth, and then closed it slowly. She pat him on the head and ruffled his red hair. "You're only six, much too young to hear such things," she told him with a dismissive smile. "You wouldn't understand now. I'll tell you when you're older."

"No, I want to know now!" Percy burst. He threw his hands over his mouth and gave his mother a fearful look; he'd never argued or disobeyed her as far as he could remember. That was what the twins were for, in his mind. He was the good child.

However, his mother looked more solemn and tired than anything; she looked read to fall asleep with that faint smile on her face that gave an air of false hope. "I knew you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," she sighed. "Now then, if you really want to know..." She'd sugar-coat everything she possibly could. "Not all wizards and witches are good. A lot of bad wizards are what you call 'pureblood'."

"Aren't we pureblood?" Percy interjected. He'd heard his father talking about that one day.

His mother nodded her head. "Yes, yes we are."

"Are we bad, too?" Percy asked in a whisper.

"No, no, we aren't like that at all!" His mother chuckled.

"Do you mean we aren't following the rules?" Percy thought that if you were a pureblood, then you must be a bad Death Eater, too. He'd heard his father grumble about the Malfoys and Lestranges after coming home from work many of times; and those two families were purebloods, too, according to his father.

"Following the rules?" His mother pat his head again and shook her head amusedly. "My boy, you make his sound like a game." Percy blinked, confused, and pushed his glasses up again. "No, no, there aren't any rules we follow. We are allowed to be good wizards and witches if we want to be."

"Oh, that's good," Percy sighed with relief. "I don't want to be a bad wizard when I grow up!"

His mother smiled sadly. "Oh, child, I know that. Anyways, some purebloods - unlike us - don't like Muggles or Muggle-borns at all. They don't want Muggle-borns to learn magic."

"But Daddy loves Muggles!" Percy exclaimed, horrified with the thought of what his father might say if Muggles disappeared.

"Yes, he does...yes he does."

"If they got rid of the Muggles, where would the bad wizards put them?" Percy asked.

Molly ruffled his red hair once more. "Oh, Percy, you're too much." He blinked, not understanding, and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. He wished they wouldn't keep falling down. "The bad wizards put the Muggles in a place where...where they can't come back anymore."

"Australia?"

"No! Percy, where do you get these ridiculous ideas?"

"Bills said he learned that the Muggles used to send their very bad people to Australia," Percy explained, pink in the face. "He said he learned that in his Muggle Studies class at Hogwarts.

His mother rolled your eyes. "Well, I'm not sure about that, but your father would definitely know if that's true or not."

"Daddy knows everything! He's the shite!"

"Percy Ignatius Weasley!" his mother exclaimed, startling Ron a little. "Where did you hear such language? I never want to hear that again!"

Percy cringed and muttered, "Charlie says it all the time. He head he heard it on a Muggle telly." His mother huffed, apparently affronted by his words. "Remember, when you let him go to his friend's house?"

"Well then, if he's going to bring that type of language home, then I won't be so lenient next time he asks to do something out of the way," his mother said as she shifted a finally sleepy Ron in her arms. The baby blinked his eyes and yawned drowsily. "Honestly, your father brings home the war, and Charlie brings home crude Muggle sayings-"

"And Bill brings home the pretty girls!" Percy beamed until he saw the frowning look on his mother's face; his face fell, and he looked down at his sock-covered foot embarrassedly. "Not a lot, though. Some of them aren't all that pretty..."

"Mmhm, of course," his mother mumbled while she sat Ron's empty bottle down on the coffee table. Percy bit his lip and pushed his glasses up again. He felt bad about accidentally getting his older brothers in trouble, but that's what they got for being bad and breaking the rules. Sometimes, they weren't very good examples or role models for him, the twins, and baby Ron. (He'd heard his mother once tell Bill and Charlie that they should be those things for him and his other three brothers - a good example and role model. They weren't very good at it.)

"Mummy," Percy said quietly, "where do we put the bad wizards?"

"Azkaban, the Wizarding prison," his mother sighed; and she suddenly shivered. "It's a very scary place. It's dark, cold, and awful, filled with nothing but horrible memories left to remember and continuing loneliness..."

"Have you ever been in Azkaban?" Percy blinked curiously behind his glasses.

"No, no," his mother denied earnestly, shaking her head, "I've never been, but I've heard stories about the place, oh yes, many stories." Percy nodded his head in understanding; he knew what stories were. "But let's not talk about that place, shall we? It makes me uncomfortable."

"Okay, Mummy," Percy said flippantly, not caring about it that much. He looked outside through a small window into the darkness of the night. There were never any lights on in the Muggle village of St. Ottery Catch Pole; he used to count the lights and stars with Charlie every night before bed when Charlie was home - to practice his numbers - but they'd all died out a few months ago, much to Percy's displeasure. Charlie had pat him on the head and said something about "tough luck" and that they would come on again...one day.

Ron suddenly began to whimper again. His mother began to whisper soothing words as she stood up and paced around the room, rubbing his small back. Percy watched them from the couch comfortably. He smiled whet Ron looked at him with wide blew eyes over his mother's shoulder.

A sudden click interrupted his mother's sweet lullaby to Ron. Percy and his mother looked at the door. She briskly walked over to Percy and placed Ron carefully in his arms without a word.

"Mummy-" Percy felt confused by the tense look on his mother's normally warm and happy face.

"I want you to take your brother and hide under the stairs in the cupboard," his mother ordered in a voice that left no room for any 'but's. Percy opened his mouth to question her, but she cut him off first: "Just do what I say and keep as silent as possible no matter what you hear or see. Do you understand me, Percy?"

Percy nodded his head fearfully. "Yes, Mummy," he said in a squeaky voice. A thought suddenly came to him. "What about the Twins?"

"They're awake; they'll know if anything happens to me and to hide," his mother told him hastily.

"What-?" But before Percy could get anything more of her, his mother pushed him and Ron into the cupboard under the stairs and locked it. All Percy could do was hold onto Ron awkwardly and watch the scene through a few holes in the cupboard door. His mother walked over to the door, her wand held out. Percy instinctively put a hand over Ron's eyes so he wouldn't see anything, feeling the sinking sensation of the fear he felt when Bill told him scary stories, but he couldn't take his own eyes off what was happening.

His mother moved the curtain with her wand to the left slightly. "Arthur Weasley! Don't you dare scare me like that!"

"Molly, dear," his father's muffled voice came from behind the locked from door. Percy became excited, but remembered that his mother and told him to be stay and stay put no matter what. "How do you know it's me? I could be a Death Eater in disguise, you know, tricking you, waiting for you to open the door so I can-"

Whatever gruesome images his father was about to say were interrupted by his mother's reprimanding him: "Arthur! I doubt a Death Eater would tell me his plans."

"I could be a very new Death Eater - a very stupid one, too."

His mother rolled her eyes. "I doubt he'd degrade him either."

"I have to say it."

"Do we have to do this? We go through this every night almost!" His mother huffed. That was true; Percy heard them do this little banter more often than not.

"Just...let me say the password."

"Oh, honey, couldn't Death Eaters have kidnapped and tortured the password out of you and then one polyjuiced into you?" his mother sighed in a mockingly sweet voice.

There was a pause and then-"Well, yes, of course that's true. We'll have to work on that-"

"Oh, Arthur," his mother snapped, exasperated. She went ahead and wrenched the door open.

"Molly!" His father leapt backwards and put his arms over his head. "You shouldn't!"

"Arthur, it's in the middle of January; the blizzard is starting up again; and you're standing in four feet of snow!" his mother exclaimed, right before she pulled his father inside and helped him brush the snow of his shoulders. "Any longer out there and you would've freezed to death. And I'm sorry, but I can't have a frozen husband since the dead someone bring in very good money to pay bills and buy food for the children."

"Yes, yes," his father grumbled. His mother pointed her wand at the cupboard door and unlocked it. His father turned around as he wriggled out of his big cloak. "What are you doing?"

Percy watched as the cupboard door unlocked and then opened. He wanted to sprint and run into his father's arms, but remembered that he was still carrying Ron. Instead, he waddled clumsily out of the cupboard (since Ron was not that much smaller than him at five years younger) with a great shout of "Daddy, Daddy!"

His father grinned at him; and in three steps, he scooped both Percy and Ron up into his arms since both were rather light-weight. Of course, his father did groan a bit and strain; Ron was a bit chubby, but most babies were.

"Percy, my boy, what are you doing awake at this hour?" his father questioned, smiling.

"I'm doing on my writing work!" Percy explained, swelling up with pride. He really did enjoy it. "Will you read it before you go to work tomorrow morning?"

His father nodded his head immediately. "Of course, I have to read everything my smart, little boy writes."

Percy beamed. "It's a story," he told his father, "about a dark and stormy night and the bad wizards."

"Ah, I see," his father replied slowly, nodding his head in understanding again. He pushed Percy's glasses up for him. "But tell me about it in the morning because I think" - his father glanced at his mother - "it's your bedtime."

His mother smiled at them. His father set Percy and Ron back down carefully, picked up Ron again, and brushed Ron's hair out of his eyes before handing him to his mother. His mother kissed his father on the cheek and then walked into their bedroom, where Ron still slept, whispering the lullaby to him again. Percy watched as she closed the door and saw that Ron was asleep finally.

"C'mon, chap," his father yawned as he picked Percy up again, "let's get you to bed." He started up the stairs to the third floor, where Percy's bedroom was. "Are the twins asleep?" he asked when they were on the second floor, where the twins slept. "I was hoping to tell them goodnight before they went to bed."

Percy shook his head. "Mummy said they were probably still awake. They never go to bed when she tells them to."

"But not you, right?" His father chuckled when Percy nodded his head feverishly. Percy liked the good feeling and happy looks on his parents' faces he got when he obeyed them or did something good; he really liked it when they told him how proud they were or him or how smart he was. (He was sure that Ron would like those things, too, when he got older.) Upon reaching the third floor and walking into his bedroom, his father set him on his bed.

"You should get to sleep soon if you want to be up before I leave for work," his father told him. "I'll tell you a story tomorrow night, all right?"

Percy sighed and slipped under his blanket. "Okay, okay," he mumbled. He was a bit put out because he really enjoyed his father's usual bedtime stories that were filled with Muggle heroes, but tried his best not to complain; he whined and complained in his head instead. His father started to extinguish the lights in the bedroom.

"Daddy," Percy blurted before the last light was blown out. It glowed on his face as he sat up again, making his hair look like a flame.

His father paused and looked over to him, standing up straight. "Yes, Percy?"

"Mummy..." Percy frowned. "Mummy never really told me... Why is there a war? How come people are fighting?"

His father sighed, looking troubled, and sat down at the foot of Percy's bed; he looked more old and worn out than ever before. He took his hat off finally and twisted it in his hands. "Some wizards are good, and some are very bad. We're having a war to see if the world is going to be good or not - like in all the stories I tell you." His father leaned over and hugged Percy tightly with a few unnoticed tears in his eyes. He stood up and walked over to the last candle. "Now get to sleep and have good dreams, son." He blew out the last light and walked to the door, grabbing the handle.

"Dad," Percy whispered, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. His father looked back at him. "Good will win though, like it does in your stories, right? I mean, good always wins, doesn't it?"

His father hesitated and then said, "Yes, of course it does."

"Then why do the bad wizards still fight if they know they can't win since good always does?"

His father merely told him, "Because they think they can," before closing the door to let Percy fall asleep.


Author notes: Thank you for reading.

I think I did an “okay” job at that, yeah? Just to let you know, at the time of the war, 1981, it’s a known fact that the Light side was losing very much, right? It’s very hard to sugar-coat some things, I think.