This story…a brain child that refused to go away. I came up with the original idea for this story as "I want to write a story where Harry's a Squib." I kept running into roadblocks though…so many that I dropped the idea for some time. And then suddenly, while reading one of my favorite HP fanfics for the kabillionth time, I had a sudden idea…

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or any lines from the play Macbeth.

Note About Timeline: This is an alternate universe. I'm just pointing that out again, because I don't want everyone to get confused. Things are going to be different from the canon universe, some things will be similar. Just go with the flow. All will be explained.

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Substance of Things Hoped For

Chapter One

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The wind ruffled the red locks that he had tried so hard to keep neat. It couldn't be helped, could it? It was just one of those days…you got a lot of them when you lived by the seashore. The salty wind clung to his lips and skin. Every time he went to lick his parched lips, all he could taste was the sea.

Percy Weasley didn't live by the sea. He was only passing through. It didn't do any good to stay in one place too long. Voldemort was everywhere, had eyes everywhere, and was just waiting for a chance to strike at whatever unsuspecting victim he had found who'd forgotten just that. He preferred the big cities. He preferred the Ministry of Magic, the hustle and bustle of work always being done…last time he was there, it had been Christmastime. That was two years ago, but if he closed his eyes and recalled for a moment, he could picture the large glowing tree, twinkling with different lights, the color coordinated ornaments…he could recall a gift wrapped in silver paper with a large red velvet bow.

"Merry Christmas."

"I hope you like it."

He frowned a little, opening his eyes, and pushing up his rather severe glasses. It wouldn't do to get off task. You could daydream about the past all you wanted, but if you kept your head there, you were sure to get killed.

It was just too easy to lose people now a days.

He wasn't much help to his side. He tried to be, but the Ministry of Magic was never in the same place for very long and he had lost track of where they were. He had heard of other factions joining together to help in the fight against Voldemort. The fight they were losing.

Even now, Percy wondered if they could ever reclaim the battlefield. If they could ever come back and destroy Voldemort. It seemed impossible. Of course, a lot of people still whispered about the Boy Who Lived. Talk about fairy deals and leprechaun gold! Get your head out of the clouds, that's what Percy wanted to say to them. Oh, it was true, the Boy existed, but Percy had no idea what it had to do with Voldemort now.

Everyone knew the basic outline of the story. Seventeen years ago, the Lord Voldemort, who had been at the height of his powers then, had come to Godric's Hollow, planning to kill all the Potters (some people were shaky on the details, but most people agreed that they were enemies of Lord Voldemort and so didn't really bother to explain why he had singled them out). Unfortunately for him, (and once more, no one really knows what happened) when he had gone to kill Harry James Potter, a babe of one, something went terribly wrong. The spell rebounded onto his own body.

Everyone thought it was the end of Voldemort, no one heard anymore of the wizard who had reigned in terror for so long. There were celebrations, feasts, holidays. People held lavish memorial festivals for the dead and for a time, it was as though the wizarding world was breathing a huge sigh of relief.

And then, just four years ago, he had risen from the grave and began to reclaim his former power. People cried for the Ministry to do something and they had tried…they had tried so hard…

The original headquarters of the Ministry had been destroyed. Now the surviving members were constantly on the run.

His fingers closed around the smooth, crinkled surface of the package. The velvety bow brushed the back of his knuckles and he moved his hands so he could carefully untie the bow.

"I hope you like it."

Percy swallowed hard, trying not to grimace. He glanced to the sea on his left and saw the endless, lapping waves. He had been to the beach when he was younger, with his whole family. He shook his head, he was getting too nostalgic. Why couldn't he keep his mind on this one task? He wasn't the impractical one, he wasn't the insensible one. He kept his wits about him, so why couldn't he all of a sudden?

His eyes swung away from the sea to the houses across the street on his right. Nothing to get swept away about there. Just regular houses. Some of them gray, some of them felt gray, and most of them looked like the sort of houses you would expect to see near the beach. Some just felt empty.

They probably are.

This particular little town didn't have many marks of any battles or attacks. But there were some. Empty houses. So many empty houses now a day.

His eyes traveled along each one until they suddenly stopped. He tried to make it not look obvious that something about this particular house had caught his eye. It would have been something silly to anyone else. In fact, even his kind might think it was silly but to him, it meant something.

On the porch was a bucket. An upside down bucket.

Completely ordinary, not meant to catch anyone's attention. Percy kept walking, right on past the house. He would cross the street at the very end of the road and come back up the other side, just in case anyone was watching. Those houses felt Empty. That didn't mean they couldn't See.

His feet padded against the sidewalk in his sensible walking shoes as his heart thudded irregularly in his chest. Was he really so lonely that the sight of an upside down bucket made him act this way? He had been wandering by himself for so long though…there was something about loneliness that Percy found hard to bear.

Maybe it was growing up in his family. There were so many siblings, always so much noise. And even though he would yell in frustration at those who wouldn't be quiet or snap at those who were purposely annoying him, he missed that noise. He was only able to work under deep amounts of stress. The more worked up he was, the easier he found it to think.

But that was before.

The Burrow was gone. What a funny name for a family's home. The Burrow. He knew some of his siblings might even now be alive. But it had all happened so fast and he hadn't even been there. He just saw the aftermath.

He just saw the dead bodies of his mother and his father.

The bow came undone in his hands and fell away from the package. He hesitantly glanced up to give a quick smile to the giver but their attention had been seized by someone else. He looked down at the still wrapped package, but felt alone.

His siblings and him…none of them had even been particularly close to Percy, which he supposed was probably his fault a little. He had always been too busy to play with them. Too busy with schoolwork, too busy with work, too busy with this, too busy with that. He believed in having fun after all your work was done. The problem was, for Percy, the work never had been done.

There was always a little voice that whispered 'later, we'll play later' in his ears. But there never was a later. There were two funerals and a foundation full of ashes.

He glanced both ways before crossing the street. No cars were coming. It wasn't a very busy place and most people, even Muggles, who didn't technically know about the war, they knew that they were dying. Best to stay out of the way.

Percy stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look like he was just having an afternoon stroll. Part of him wanted to hunch over, but hunching over would only make it seem like he was trying to look smaller. No, he didn't want that. Look at me, I'm just going about my business, no need to be suspicious of me. That's what he wanted them to see. If they were watching.

Then, with a half glance around to see if there was anyone watching, he turned onto the small walk-up that led to the house with the upside down bucket. He wondered if he was just making a mistake. Muggles could over turn buckets just as easily. So could Death Eaters.

He knocked three times, three very deliberate and slow times. He waited for a little bit and he could hear shuffling noises from inside. There were people in there. But were they the right kind of people?

Oh please…please…

Percy was surprised by that. He could manage very well on his own, thank you very much. What was with this desire to be surrounded by people again? The doorknob twisted, rattled, and the door creaked open about a foot. In the darkness of the front hall, a young man was standing. He couldn't be anymore than eighteen years old, and he was glaring at Percy with regular blue eyes, his hair was the color of corn silk.

"Show me, show me." Percy recited hopefully. If it was just a Muggle they'd probably think he was a loony and slam the door in his face. A Death Eater might be equally confused. But…

"Here I have a pilot's thumb, wreck'd as homeward he did come." The blonde-haired boy still looked rather wary but he wasn't glaring anymore. He opened the door wider and let Percy enter. Percy stepped into the dark hallway, hearing the young man close the door behind him.

He could see that it got lighter as you went further into the house, and was about to go further in when the young man stopped him. "Wait a moment, I've got to check you."

"Check me?" Percy cocked his head to one side.

"Yeah, we've had some close calls." The blonde haired boy took out his wand. "Just a quick charm to reveal any scars you have."

"Oh." Percy nodded his head in understanding. Scars. The Dark Mark, the one all Death Eaters wore. That's what he was looking for. Although he could understand, he was slightly perplexed by this. He didn't blame a wizard for safety precautions, but the boy still looked like he was waiting for Percy to pull out his wand and curse him.

The charm only took a moment and though Percy's knee lit up, Percy quickly pulled up his pants leg to show the scar he had gotten when he was going to school. He had fallen down some steps and hurt it pretty bad.

"Let me see."

"Geez Percy, that looks bad."

The young man seemed satisfied and held out a hand, though Percy noted that he still hadn't put his wand away. "Zacharias Smith."

"Percy Weasley." Percy shook his hand.

"Weasley?" Zacharias seemed to be thinking. "I think there was a Weasley in my year…or something like that. Ginny?"

"My little sister." Percy confirmed with a nod.

"Huh. She still alive?" Zacharias asked bluntly.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since our house was attacked. I wasn't there when it happened." Percy decided he wasn't sure he liked Smith already and he'd just met him.

"Sorry." Smith looked apologetic for half a moment. "Come in then." He led the way further down the hall. There was a living room, with a television here. The television was on, but no one was watching it. Percy realized that Smith must have been watching it before.

"Hey, Zach!" Another young man, with pale hair and pale eyes came into the room. "Who is it?"

"Percy Weasley." Smith pointed absently to Percy. "He's just come in."

"Did you remember to check for scars?" This young man looked the same age as Smith but had drawn himself up with an air of superiority.

"Yes, Ernie." Smith's tone was borderline exasperated.

"Excuse me." Percy held up a hand. The two turned to him. "Who's in charge here?" The two turned to look at each other, sharing a secret glance. "I would like to be informed of any news that might have passed through here as well. I don't imagine you get much but…"

"You have a wand?" The one called Ernie held out his hand sternly. He rather reminded Percy of himself when he was younger. The red-headed man pulled out his wand and held it out, wand end pointed towards himself. "You can't go see the person in charge with a wand. It's one of the rules. Special protection, you see."

"I understand." Percy nodded his head once more. The two were faintly annoying in their presumption. He was older, and he had been a member of the Ministry of Magic. These two looked like they were just out of school. Maybe they were. Ernie took his wand and tucked it into the jacket he was wearing.

The two led him out of the living room and down the hallway, to where a set of stairs going to the second floor were located. They went up the stairs, Zach in front, Ernie behind him. Percy couldn't help but think it was because they still suspected he would attack, even without a wand. This hallway was lined with closed doors.

"That's my room." Ernie pointed to the first door on their right. He began explaining where each of the doors led. There was a guest bedroom, a bathroom, Smith's room at the very end of the hallway. They reached a door in the middle of the hallway and Ernie knocked twice on it. Percy heard a voice answer, but couldn't quite make it out.

When they led him inside, Percy saw that it was another bedroom. This one had a small bed, plain wooden floors, a vanity, and a dresser. The person was sitting on the bed, looking out the window and watching the sea. They turned their head, but even before that, Percy had been surprised. It was clearly a girl. She had dark hair that was pulled into a long braid. There was nothing wrong with a girl being in charge, he just hadn't expected it.

When she turned to face them, Percy was taken aback by her features. They were normal enough and she was even sort of pretty, but that wasn't what surprised him. It was the familiarity of them. Her sharp chin, her arched eyebrows, and the way she seemed to be studying him with her eyes.

He had worked with someone very similar to that. Well, he had worked for them. But they had died, and it was small wonder. Almost the entire family was dead, and the last member had gone into hiding, although most people would be shocked to hear that she was still alive.

"It can't be…" Percy gasped. "You…you're…" She smiled sadly, lowering her eyes as she did a quick bow of her head. "Susan Bones."

"Unfortunately." It was bitter, even though her voice was soft.

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Cliffhanger? Er…maybe. Sort of. I really like doing this whole, 'use completely secondary characters thing'. That's not to say that some main characters won't be showing up soon. I don't think Susan's ever described in the books so I've taken some liberties. For some reason I always picture her with dark hair…couldn't really say why. This isn't very happy go lucky so far…but there's no earthly way of knowing which direction this fic is going…I know you guys have lots of questions, but just keep reading…