Disclaimer: Right. Percy Weasley and the Potterverse belong to JK Rowling. The short little snippets in italics? They are from a song. In the End by Linkin Park.

In my fic, Prefects are named in fourth year. Why? Because I can make it so. Don't mess with me; I'll corrupt your fandom even more.

This seriously needs revision. So here it is: the revised version. Not much has changed (at least I don't think so). Just a few mistakes fixed or a sentence or two added.

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I tried so hard

Honestly, I did.

I remember when I was young, trying to learn everything just to help out mum. Cleaning the dishes, tying my shoelaces myself, sitting quietly. I did all those things just so I wouldn't be a bother. I tried so hard.

And then I grew older. Bill and Charlie were off to Hogwarts and I was left with three younger siblings and another on the way. I faded into the background, neglected for the younger ones. I was nothing special. Fred and George were so full of life and Ron was such a cute baby. No one bothered to look at the small boy with the wistful smile and longing eyes.

I wanted to be someone. Someone they would look at and see. See me, not just look through me.

I discovered books and that was my answer. I would be a genius and they would admire me. So I threw myself into learning. I was hardly seen without my nose in a book. I would stay up late reading. Because of that, I had to get glasses. But that wasn't too bad. I still had books.

My next discovery was writing. No one knows this. Why would they? They don't know me. Oliver may know, but he's off, playing professional Quidditch. I would spend ages holed up in my room writing and reading, lost in a world of my own. It was my escape and a good one too - inspiration always came to me.

And then it was time for me to go to Hogwarts.

There I threw myself even further into studies. My grades were among the top, my behavior was perfect. And yet they weren't proud of me.

And got so far

Perfect grades. No complaints about behavior. This was ignored in favour for my siblings.

Bill was the guy everyone liked, along with Charlie. He had good grades, yet was friendly and out-going. Charlie had a talent with creatures, I cannot deny that. Me? I just had good grades which Bill had already achieved.

I was named Prefect. I got an owl for that and Mum and Dad were proud of me. But, once again, Bill had already achieved that. He had been Head Boy.

Bill was working his way up the ladder at Gringotts with Curse-Breaking. Charlie was had graduated and was doing well with dragons. I was in my fourth year. My achievements were over-looked, once again because of my siblings.

Ginny was a girl. Ron was brilliant at chess and friends with Harry Potter. The twins were loveable. Charlie was excellent with creatures and Bill was...well, Bill. I was no one.

And then I went on to become Head Boy. Like it was with me becoming a Prefect, the twins gave me hell for being Head Boy. The cruelest cut of all is that my parents never did anything about it. They laughed along with the twin's comments, which encouraged them to continue. I just sat there and hoped my mask was strong enough. And as soon as I could I would flee to my room and cry. And then I would write stories and poems, using it to calm me and erase my depression.

Then I graduated and found a job at the Ministry. I got teased for that too, but I could handle it. I was doing something good, I was working well.

But then that whole scandal came along and ruined me.

I remember the pride I felt at my promotion. I was sure that my family would finally have something to say to me, besides those awful taunts.

But it couldn't work that way. Dad was so sure Fudge was just using me to spy on my family. Looking back now, I realize that he was probably right but I wasn't thinking clearly at that time, nor was Dad.

We screamed at each other, each word meant to be a blow to the heart. He told me of his disappointment in me, how I was so blind.

I bet the recollection to Harry and Hermione excluded that. Typical. Make Big Bad Percy evil and poor Arthur Weasley the victim. But no one cares about what he sad to me.

Don't you see! He just wants you to spy on us! He doesn't care about your grades! How can you be so blind! You are a disappointment to me. I feel shame whenever I look at you, shame that I sired such a thing!

That hurt. I bet that wasn't recounted either.

After all, there is only black and white. Yin and Yang. Victim and Tormenter. There is no grey, no blurred area between the two, a huge difference between Tormenter and Tormented. That is the way things are.

But in the end

Yeah, right. There is grey, there is a blurred area between Yin and Yang, and just who is the Tormenter and who is the Tormented...really, you can be both at the same time. I learnt that the hard way.

I'm not trying to make myself look like the poor, innocent victim. That would just make me a hypocrite, especially because of what I wrote above. I did say horrible things to my Father, and hurt my Mother so badly. I just want...I just want people to understand me.

A flash and I'm that sad little boy standing in the shadowed corner with the wistful smile and the longing eyes, t-shirt hanging off a thin shoulder, bear clutched in one hand, watching as people crooned over my siblings. That's who I am inside. I can't hide it.

It doesn't even matter

But, it doesn't matter. Father and I made our mistakes and there is no going back. I am hated by my family and their friends.

And so I sit here is this cramped flat, all alone as my heart slowly breaks into little pieces.

And I'm just a little, over-looked boy, lost in the shadows of my older brother's light and the light forming from my younger siblings. I feel cold. I have always felt it and there is nothing I can do. I feel so helpless, so alone.

I'm just Percy Weasley, over achiever and traitor to his family. It doesn't matter that I have feelings, that I'm not just an emotionless robot. They forgot that.

That's why I joined Voldemort. He saw me. He didn't ignore me in favour of others. He wanted me. I am one of his favorites now. He talks things over with me, explains things.

Some may say that he is using me, but I beg to differ. When I was with Fudge, even as I swallowed his lies, I had the nagging feeling that he was using me. But in Voldemort's eyes I see his likes me. I don't care what they say. Now that I'm with Voldemort, they can't hurt me anymore.

I won't be in this empty flat much longer. Voldemort is coming for me and my heart is mending.

You know, Voldemort and his Death Eaters seem so cold, but you've never seen them without their masks on. And I don't mean their white ones. I have seen them let go. They are my family now. They always will be. You were never my family. Only by blood. You never made an effort to change that. And now you must reap what you've sown.

Look at what you made. Are you proud, Daddy? You made me in every possible way. You should be proud. Or maybe your shame in siring such a thing will finally be justified. Your choice.

Percy Weasley

P.S: Maybe one day we will have to fight each other. And I know you will kill me. You made me, you destroy me. All this could have been different if you remembered I was human.

Think about it.