His Last Act

The walls of Hogwarts shook with every blast from the ongoing battle, dust and debris falling from the rafters as spells and curses shot through the air, illuminating the corridors with flashes of deadly light. Amidst the chaos, Fred and George stood side by side, laughing defiantly as they dueled. Even now, in the heart of war, they found a way to make each other smile—a bond forged over years of shared pranks and laughter, only strengthening in the face of danger.

As Fred unleashed a jinx at a masked Death Eater, he spotted a figure rushing toward them through the smoky haze of the corridor. Percy was weaving his way through the tumult, his face streaked with dirt, his glasses askew, and his normally immaculate robes torn and smeared with ash and blood. Gone was the Percy who had once lectured them on Ministry protocol, the Percy who had walked out on their family. In his place was a brother who had thrown aside everything for his family—a Weasley in every sense of the word.

"Percy!" Fred called, arching a brow, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth even as he fought off another Death Eater. "Merlin's beard, you've actually decided to break a rule or two!"

For once, Percy didn't respond with a lecture. Instead, to Fred's surprise, he allowed himself a small, mischievous smile, one that seemed to hold years of unspoken regret and love. In that single smile, Percy said everything he'd never been able to express. He was here. He was with them. He was proud of them, of everything they'd done.

"Seems like now's the time for a bit of rebellion," Percy replied, his voice thick with emotion as he sent a hex at an oncoming Death Eater, the light of the spell glinting off his broken glasses. And then, as Fred opened his mouth to respond, Percy did something that stopped him cold.

With a smirk and a glint in his eye, Percy cracked a joke.

"I was a fool!" Percy proclaimed, his voice rising above the cacophony of the battle. "I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was—" He threw his hands up, his expression caught between mock frustration and sincerity.

Fred's grin widened in sheer disbelief, exchanging a look with George, who looked just as stunned. The two of them laughed in shock, unable to hold it back. George snorted. "You're joking, Perce!" he shot back, his voice tinged with incredulity. "You're actually joking... Percy, I don't think I've heard you joke since... well, since *ever*!"

And just like that, the three of them shared a fleeting, precious moment—a spark of laughter, of light, of love amidst the darkness. For a heartbeat, they were nothing but brothers again, bound by an unbreakable bond.

But as they laughed, the danger crept closer, silent and unseen.

A figure lurked in the shadows of the corridor—a Death Eater who had been watching, his wand trained and ready. He was waiting for the perfect shot, his gaze fixed on Fred, a cold, twisted smile stretching across his face. And in that moment of laughter, he struck.

The green light of the Killing Curse streaked through the air, illuminating the darkness with its sickly glow as it flew toward Fred.

Percy saw it first, the deadly flash of green that seemed to burn into his vision, and in that instant, he realized what was about to happen. Time seemed to slow, each heartbeat pounding louder in his ears as he looked at Fred, his brother, his family. Percy felt a surge of desperation, a single thought drowning out all others—*not Fred. Not him.*

Without a second thought, Percy leapt forward, his arms outstretched, shoving Fred out of the curse's path with a force that came from a place beyond logic, beyond reason. His body twisted mid-air, and he placed himself between the curse and Fred, every fiber of his being willing to shield his brother from harm.

Fred stumbled back, barely catching his balance as Percy collided with him, sending him reeling. He looked up just in time to see the green light hit Percy square in the chest, freezing him mid-motion. The curse cut through him with brutal finality, his face softening as he sank to his knees. For a split second, Percy's gaze met Fred's, filled with a mix of love, pride, and an unspoken farewell.

Percy fell to the ground, his body still, his face frozen in a peaceful expression that seemed at odds with the raging battle around him. He looked almost as if he were asleep, a faint trace of his last smile lingering on his lips, the faint echo of his final joke hanging in the air.

Fred blinked, his heart pounding as he processed what he was seeing. He staggered forward, his legs trembling as he fell to his knees beside Percy, his mind racing as denial fought against the reality before him.

"Percy..." The word slipped from Fred's lips in a broken whisper, his hands reaching out to touch his brother's shoulder, as if his touch alone could wake him. "Percy... no... you... you didn't have to..."

Fred's voice cracked, the weight of what Percy had done crashing over him like a tidal wave. The brother who had once been so distant, so unyielding, had thrown his life aside without hesitation to save him. He had given everything for his family, for the brother he had fought with, laughed with, loved with every fiber of his being.

Beside him, George dropped down, his face pale, his own hands trembling as he took in the sight of Percy lying motionless, the finality of his sacrifice settling over them both. For a long, agonizing moment, the battle around them faded into a distant roar, as if the world itself were holding its breath, honoring Percy's final act of love.

Fred's hand clutched Percy's, his voice a choked murmur. "You... you stubborn git," he whispered, forcing a strained laugh that was more of a sob. "Why'd you have to go and do something so... so noble?"

His voice faltered, a tear slipping down his cheek as he looked at Percy's still face. Memories flooded through his mind—Percy's lectures, his stern looks, his fierce loyalty, and, in those rare moments, his quiet, unwavering love for his family.

Fred's voice broke again, his heart heavy with a grief that felt too vast, too consuming to bear. "You... you saved me, Perce," he whispered, his words thick with sorrow. "You're a hero... Mum's going to be so proud of you."

George, his own face wet with tears, placed a hand on Fred's shoulder, his voice hoarse but steady. "She'll know, Fred," he murmured, his gaze fixed on Percy's peaceful expression. "She'll know he did it for us. And she'll be proud... more than ever."

Fred's gaze remained on Percy's face, his fingers wrapped around his brother's hand as if he could somehow hold onto him, as if he could keep him with them for just a little longer. "But... she's going to kill us, Perce," he whispered, a broken laugh escaping him. "She's going to kill us for letting you go."

But no matter how tightly he held onto Percy's hand, he knew that his brother was gone, that his laughter, his jokes, his sacrifices were all now part of a memory—a memory Fred would carry with him for the rest of his life.

As the battle raged on, Fred and George knelt beside Percy, holding him close, honoring him with their tears, their silence, and their love—a love that would live on, unbroken, even in death.