Warning(s): Multiple character deaths.
Disclaimer: JKR owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Length: 600 words
Summary: Like in a sped-up photograph, pink clouds race overhead until there is nothing but a vague, hazy blur, like blood diluted by too much milk.
Note: Written for scribbulus_ink's Candy is Dandy challenge. My prompts were Percy and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.
Concrit: Always welcome and appreciated.
The shrill cawing of a bird outside his window causes Percy to start.
He taps the frame of his glasses with a finger and stares at the wall, unable to focus on anything because there is nothing there to see: just a white expanse, perfectly unmarred. The entire room is so pristine that the gods of chaos would surely cease to exist were they to so much as gaze upon it.
Legends say that wizards are descended from the Nephilim of old, great heroes whose names are known to few and spoken by none. Percy read about it once, in a dusty tome with a moth-eaten cover. It was then and there -- in a quiet corner of the Hogwarts library -- that he decided he would become greater than his father.
He didn't mean to sever ties with his family in the process, but even the best plans suffer minor setbacks. Sometimes you try to see someone's eyes, but all you can feel is their look.
Ginny looks surprised, mostly. She is slumped backwards in the sitting room chair, her usually bright brown eyes filled with a kind of dull wonder. An unwrapped piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum is clutched in her hand. It mocks Percy in his dreams.
They find Ron in the basement, his throat cut neatly, as though his executioner wanted to hurt him but didn't want to leave a mess. This is the strongest bit of evidence pointing to Draco Malfoy, as his and Ron's animosity is well-documented. It takes three days to remove the spells that bind Ron's hands.
Fred and George's bodies will never be found, unless someone bothers picking through the remains of the building that used to house their joke shop. They say their screams still echo in the windows of the neighbouring buildings sometimes.
When news comes of devastation at Charlie's dragon reservation, Percy doesn't need to look at the list of the dead. He stares at a stack of documents on his desk and wonders what he's doing there. The sympathetic looks stifle his breathing and cause his quill to shake.
Bill perishes along with Gringotts when the building simply explodes one day. There is a picture of Fleur Delacour in the Daily Prophet, but she doesn't look beautiful anymore. Percy remembers a brightly decorated wedding invitation; they would have been married in less than a week. Over the next month, Percy is too busy with the financial chaos to spare his family a thought.
Mother and Father are in the kitchen. He is clutching a ridiculous Muggle screwdriver. She looks as surprised as Ginny. The words "BLOOD TRAITORS" shine red on the door to the Burrow. Percy walks past a dead chicken and wonders if he's still alive by design or chance.
He has always been so used to the idea of being one of seven children that he is blindsided by the realisation that he is the last surviving descendant of his father.
They say the Dark Mark still hangs over the house. Where are the Nephilim now?
Like in a sped-up photograph, pink clouds race overhead until there is nothing but a vague, hazy blur, like blood diluted by too much milk. Out of the blur, white snow falls, and Gilgamesh rises from the ashes.
In the graveyard, a bluebell-coloured gum bubble floats into the dead whispers above Molly Weasley's headstone. It bursts with a loud pop… or a quiet one. It doesn't matter because no one is there to hear it.
In a room with a white ceiling and a view to the street, Percy looks out the window and watches the autumn leaves trip the light fantastic.