EPILOGUE

20.

If this is what death feels like, it's not so bad. It's dark, but warm. I feel like I'm covered in soft blankets with an even softer bed underneath and I can hear what are sure to be angels fussing over me.

Hold on.

The 'angels' sound like my mum.

Oh, no. I'm in hell! I don't even believe in hell, yet here I am!

My hoarse, cracked voice cuts through the air and all extraneous noises cease. I can still hear something outside that sounds remarkably like… cheering? Slowly – painfully – I open my eyes.

"Where in Merlin's name am I?" I ask, weakly.

"Percy!"

The weight of seven pairs of arms comes crashing down on me, reminding me quite forcibly that I am alive – and in pain.

"Hold on, you pack of wild gits," a voice calls. "He's barely recovered! You'll break all his bones… again."

The pile of freckles and ginger hair part like the Red Sea. Standing in the doorway, leaning against it, scowls Ron, as tall and lanky as ever.

"Gave us a right scare, you did," he says, looking every bit at a loss. I can tell that he doesn't know whether to hug me or hit me. Instead, he gives me a smile and a nod before turning and walking away. For now, I guess, that'll do.

"Where am I?" I ask no one in particular.

It's my mum who answers, teary-eyed and smiling. "St. Mungo's. You've been out for weeks."

"Weeks?" I say, wincing as I try to sit up.

Charlie's hand gently forces me down. "No, you don't – none of that. You still need time to heal."

"It seemed" George begins.

"That you managed" Fred continues.

"To break almost every bone"

"In that wispy li'l body of yours."

"Oh, will you two stop doing that, you unnatural little beasts? I'm dizzy enough as it is!" I bark.

The room erupts in laughter.

"Ahh, he's alright," Ginny concedes, leaning down to kiss me on my forehead. "Good to have you back, brother."

"See ya, Percival!" Fred and George call in unison, following Ginny out of the room.

"Don't call me that," I mumble, very much like a stubborn eleven-year old.

I look over to see my father, who has never looked worse. His hair is thinner than I remember, as is he. Dark circles around his eyes suggest that he hasn't been asleep in quite some time.

"Well, I ah…" he stammers, fighting some urge unknown to me. He has his jacket in his hands, ringing them so tight that his knuckles are white and flared. His mouth forms a straight line, but I can see him trembling, slightly.

"Come on, Dad," Bill offers, giving me a smile. "You owe me a coffee, remember?" He wraps an arm around Dad, who relaxes under the weight. Nodding, the two leave the room.

"Surprised you're alive then?" Charlie asks me.

"Quite," I answer. "How…?"

"Oh, honestly," Mum interrupts, facing the window. Even though her back is to us, I can tell she's folding something. "It's only bones! Not like any first-year resident couldn't mend an entire body of broken limbs."

Charlie leans in to whisper to me. "She's been doing that all week, you know? Unfolding and folding St. Mungo's towels..."

"Well, if they'd do it correctly," she snaps. "I'd hardly have to do it for them."

Charlie rolls his eyes. "Shacklebolt had the know-all to send a team of medics along with the Aurors, just in case there were any fatalities."

"Praeposit…?"

"On suspension pending investigation," Charlie answers. Unfortunately, that's standard when there's a death-via-Unforgivable involved in an Auror raid. It's unlikely anything will come of it.

"He was actually following McNair, apparently on another lead," Charlie continues with a shrugs.

"And McNair was looking for Severus," I add, trying to piece together everything.

Charlie nods. "I doubt he knew the spy was Severus, though, until the Aurors attacked you."

"Where… where is Severus…?"

"He's in Azkaban. Just temporarily, though. He took that jinx for you," he answers.

Mum huffs at this.

"He goes to trial soon. He… ah… wants to see you. When you're able, that is."

It's surprising how good that makes me feel.

"And… You-Know-Who…?" I ask, afraid of the answer.

"Dead. Harry took care of him," Charlie answers and there's almost a sense of pride in his voice, a twinkle in his eyes. "I guess Severus had been poisoning him for months, now."

"I am the resident Potions Master. I have been tainting everything – food, potions, drink…"

"Bloody brilliant," I whisper, not bothering to hide the awe in my voice.

"By the time Harry faced him, You-Know-Who could barely lift his wand," Charlie adds. He stands up and stretches. "Listen, I better get going. Shacklebolt and I have some things to discuss. The word hasn't quite reached everyone that He's dead. His last standing order was to enslave the dragons, so we still need to protect the reservations. You coming, Mum?"

Mother stands folding the towels and her head sinks further down. "Yes… yes, I'd better. Let Percy get some rest."

She turns to face the door, keeping her back away from me.

"Mum," I call; she stops. "I'd like for you to stay… if… if you don't mind. At least… at least until I fall asleep?"

Mother turns to face me, a smile across her wet face. "I'd love to, dear."

As Charlie leaves the room, Mum conjures a chair next to me and takes my hand into hers. She sits there, prattling on about garden gnomes, how infuriating the Twins' behaviour has been, all the various arguments between Ginny and Fleur, and how Gabrielle (my niece) has taken to pranks that have left Fred and George in utter amazement. But we don't talk about the argument that splintered me from the family or the underlining cause of it. That we'll save for another time. For right now, I'm simply Percy Weasley, the third eldest son, who's finally come back home… this time to stay.