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The bitter truth of the universe is that no good things last.
It is a terrible cycle of life. The sun rotates and the earth revolves around it. It sets at the end of every happy period, plunging the world into perpetual darkness, causing the humans to stumble around, blind and helpless, tearful and miserable, at wit's end, feeling as though the initial happiness will never return. But humans were born to survive, to persevere in the darkest of nights, to punch through obstacles, and come out triumphant, proud and joyful. Before they know it, they get used to the darkness, their eyes adjust, the tears dry up and the pieces of their broken hearts adhere to each other, more fragile than before, but stronger than it had ever been. They are ready to face another day, to face the light that will flood their lives with happiness and success again. It takes time. After the darkness, the light seems too bright, too blinding; they have to squint. But humans are meant to survive. They get used to the sun.
Until, it sets again.
It isn't a regular thing. There is no fixed time during which the sun will remain hidden under the ocean, nor is there a fixed time during which it will stay high in the sky, filled with pride and light that it is so happy to share with mankind. Neither there is a fixed intensity of light, nor of the absence thereof. But it is an inescapable process. It will happen. Sooner or later. Whether for good or for bad. Whether you are going through hard times in school, or whether you are facing such a darkness that you feel like will never fade.
It is inevitable.
And Percy Weasley knows it better than anyone else.
He had felt the sun setting for the first time when he was six. While his older brothers were talking proudly about how they were going to work with dragons, and visit other countries and mingle with wizards and witches from all over the world, learn about their cultures and heritage and share their knowledge, Percy, foolish as he was, had stated that he wanted to work in the Ministry, just like his father. He was met with laughter and mockery, and that was the first time the little ball of sun inside him had sunk, leaving a dark spot in him that he could never quite get rid of. He had learnt to keep his emotions and desires to himself, concealed and protected from his family, even from his parents.
The sun rose again, and began to grow with him. He watched in amazement and wonder as his older brothers went to Hogwarts, charmed their teachers with their talents, became prefects and headboys and quidditch captains, brought happy tears in their parents' eyes, made the Weasley name proud, and Percy wanted to do the same. He worked hard, and studied harder than his brothers had done, for quidditch was never his strong suit and he had to make up for it in other ways. He aced his exams, made his parents proud, and he himself was proud to say that his sun was growing bigger and brighter.
He was made prefect. He was made headboy. The sun inside him glowed brighter, as bright as he was, as he felt. He was so proud.
But the stronger the flames are, the quicker it flickers. The sun began to dim. His achievements were met with unenthusiastic responses. The charm of having a golden son had faded with Charlie and Bill, and Percy was met with mockery, but now from his younger brothers. Being a prefect and headboy wasn't something to be proud of. It made him uncool, geeky, pompous, and as the sun began to dim further, he put all his mind and soul into his studies in order to get a job in the Ministry, something he was sure his father would be proud of.
But the sun had seen enough. It wasn't ready to let its owner be mocked anymore, it glowed brighter than ever before, so bright and so brilliant, that it felt like a star that it really was. It ignored the ocean's pleadings and refused to set, it encouraged Percy to do and be what he wanted to, to ignore his brothers who thought of his ambitions as irrational, as unreal, and Percy listened to it. No sooner, his sun was nothing but a brilliant, red giant. His family was blinded by it, and Percy drifted away from them, cutting off all contact.
With each achievement he made, the sun brightened. He wasn't about to let his family come between him and his dreams anymore. He returned his mother's knitted jumper, he sided with the Ministry when it claimed that Harry Potter was a liar and an attention seeking celebrity, and he allowed the sun to make all decisions for him.
He had never burnt brighter.
When he was promoted to a higher job, his father proclaimed that it was the Ministry's way of getting information from the Weasley family. And, for the first time in years, this hit the sun hard. Instead of brightening as it normally would have done, it shrunk, even if only slightly. Percy could feel that it would set, very soon, and he promised never to return to his family again, and when Cornelius Fudge admitted that the Dark Lord really had returned, Percy remained rooted on his promise, refusing to forgive them.
The Ministry was taken over. Percy was trapped. He had to take biddings from Pius Thicknesse, who was nothing but a puppet of the Dark Lord. He wanted to escape, he could feel his sun shrinking, rapidly, the glow dying and leaving his body in rivulets of red. Before long, it was nothing but a tiny ball - a white dwarf. It stopped asking him to stay away from his family. It set completely, and he didn't know when it would rise again, if ever.
It did, however. Sooner than he had expected. He was tipped off by the barman of the Hog's Head, and swallowing his pride, Percy apparated to Hogsmeade, before walking into the tunnel behind the portrait of a young beautiful girl. It led him to a large room he had never seen at Hogwarts before, milling with people, chattering and talking loudly, excited to fight. He came across his twin brothers.
The old Percy never would have admitted to being a Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power hungry moron. For the old Percy had a sun that glowed brighter than anyone else's. The new Percy, however, did not have a sun. It had shrunk into nothingness, swallowed by the ocean that, unlike the sun, told him words of comfort, love and affection. He had learnt that light was good, but too much of it could blind someone, just as it had done to him.
As his brothers accepted him back into the family with loving graces, he felt the sun inside him rising again. But he was determined to control it now. He wouldn't let it grow and glow more than it should, he would keep it contained, nurture it and make it well behaved, teach it the ways of the ocean, so that it could tell him words that would benefit him, and not make him stray into the path of wrongness.
But Percy had forgotten that the cycle of life was unpredictable. Just because the sun had remained underneath the ocean for a long time, it didn't mean it would stay in the sky for an equal amount of time.
Percy is still haunted by the final laugh of his brother. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the remains of the wall lying over Fred's dead body; every time he sees his mother's tearstained face, he sees the shadow of Fred in her eyes, in the shape of her nose; every time his father hugs him and holds him, neither saying a word, for words aren't enough to express the emotions that are raging inside them, he hears Fred's laughter, loud and clear even amidst the chaos of the battle and the rumble of spells being shot left and right; every time he sees Ron's face, hollow and grief stricken, he sees the reflection of the wall tumbling onto Fred in his eyes, for he was there, and he had witnessed the death of his older brother; every time Ginny comes into his room and hugs him, sniffs into his shoulder, he sees the pain that she feels, for he had never seen her cry since she was four.
Percy hasn't seen George since after the funeral. He hasn't looked at him, for he knows that the reflection of Fred looking back at him would be too much for him to bear. He never goes to the Burrow, or to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and even though George tells him in his letters that he doesn't blame him, and that he wants to see him, to talk to him, Percy doesn't allow himself to be forgiven. He keeps himself locked up, busies himself with his work, writes meaningless words in pages for hours until his fingers start bleeding; he finds no joy in his work, and survives just to survive.
The ocean no longer sends him whispers of comfort, the sun has stopped trying to contact him. He doesn't try to bring it back either, for he knows it would be pointless.
For that night, when the explosion had echoed through the air, and the wall had tumbled down on Fred, the sun didn't set.
