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“Than- Thank you again! Mr. Minister, Mr. Fudge, sir.” Percy said, quite breathlessly.
Fudge nodded with a smile that almost resembled a grimace and he wandered off in the direction he came from. Percy quickly responded with a bow so low his glasses slipped down his nose and he rushed to catch them before they fell to the ground. He hardly had time to be embarrassed, however, before excitement bubbled in his stomach like a cauldron ready to overflow. Without thinking his legs started walking in circles to let off some steam. His heart pumped vigorously, it often did when he was happy, and a rare wide smile stretched across his face. He must have looked ridiculous, pacing around and around his small desk in the corner grinning like a lunatic, but he couldn’t help any of it.
Finally, some real progress made. All he had to do now was tell his family. They’ll be proud of him, he was sure of it, Percy nodded smugly to himself. Various happy scenes ran through his imagination. His mother’s hug, his father shaking his hand, pride shining in his face, him, years from now, shaking hands with Cornelius Fudge, an old friend. He realized, with a jolt, that the knot that had been twisting at his insides lessened by a notch. Nothing was ruined. Everything is back on track.
It was going to be okay.
Percy clutched onto this sentiment with an iron grip on the journey home. It was evening when he ducked through the door to The Burrow. Dinner was almost ready, and with a warm smile, his mother asked if he could help. He acquiesced, of course, and couldn’t help but smirk at the pointed look that his mum sent towards Fred and George. Clearly, they had refused the job.
He thought it was best to hold out on the tale of his promotion for now, but dropping a few hints couldn’t hurt.
“You know Mother, I’m doing some very important work at the ministry these days,” but not as important as I’ll soon be doing, he thought with glee.
“Oh really dear?” His mother mumbled, half-heartedly, “Would you pass my wand?”
Percy shuffled awkwardly around her to retrieve it, while continuing to ramble on, “Yes, yes. Nothing that would gather press attention, of course, but it really is the paper pushers these days that are the backbone of the ministry—not that I plan on staying in that position for long.” He tacked on slyly.
“Oh that’s very good dear- seven- no, eight , oh I’ll have to have more.” She muttered the second half to herself.
The rest of their cooking went similarly, with Percy subtlety-or at least that was what he was aiming for–bragging about his job performance at every turn only to be sullied with a request to peel more potatoes or something of the like. Fred and George (and Ron, who had joined them) seemed to be immensely enjoying the show from their seats by the fire. Percy resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at them. He was a man now. He was junior assistant to the minister of magic. He couldn’t let his emotions sway him into acting otherwise.
Eventually they finished up and his mother struck a bell, its faint ring is enhanced to bounce up their tower of a home and inform everyone of tea. He swore the foundation shook as the Weasley’s descended upon the table. Percy decided he should properly break the news at mealtime. Everyone broke news at mealtimes, it was only natural. As they were all pulling out their seats Percy frowned upon noticing an extra head among their ranks. Why had no one mentioned he was coming? Still, he shook off confusion quickly and gave his older brother a sensible nod instead. After all, this was his house too. Bill responded with a chuckle and another nod back. Percy shifted uncomfortably from his seat, he was sure Bill was laughing at his greeting. Everyone always told him he was too stuffy with them.
If getting a word in edgewise was difficult earlier, now it was practically impossible. It had been a while since he’d spent dinner at home. He’d been working into the night lately, having meals of coffee and whatever snacks were stuffed in his desk drawers. Somehow, in that short amount of time, the chaos of home seems to have increased tenfold. Or perhaps he’d just lost some resistance to it. Percy had always hated the noise that accompanied his family. It was impossible to think when every boisterous laugh, or teasing insult, clink of china, or scrape of a chair reverberated through his brain at fifty times their usual volume. He could handle it though, he could. Buckling under the pressure of noise is ridiculous. That didn’t mean it was any less infuriating.
He tried to speak up a few times, mainly to his father, with whom he was most excited to share his news. There were a few instances he was able to start a stilted dialogue with him, but each time Fred and George piped up even louder than before, and he was shut down again. It was about halfway through the meal when his patience ran out.
“Excuse me,” He said. A few people glanced at him, but they kept conversing.
“Excuse me!” He exclaimed, this time with more vigor, and finally, the table shut up and the attention was on him.
“I have an announcement.” He puffed out his chest in pride and ignored the twins’ sniggers, “ I was promoted today.”
Soft, but warm congratulations came his way. His mother beamed and reached across the table to squeeze his hand, while his father and Bill both gave him a hearty pat on the back. His younger siblings didn’t particularly react, but he’d be a fool to hope for that.
Percy smiled and hurried to the most exciting part of his news, “Minister Fudge asked for me directly . He said I had made a distinction at the tournament last year and despite my…” He paused, searching for the right word, “mishaps. I am a promising employee. He wants me to become his junior assistant.” Percy’s eyes sparkled with glee.
The room got quiet again, but this time was different, this silence felt wrong. Percy frowned, unsure what had changed.
“Perce.” His father started carefully. The knot pulled tighter. “Fudge… isn’t the man to trust these days.”
Percy couldn’t help but gape at that. Of course, he had heard the whispers of mistrust floating around lately, but he’d tried his best to push them to the side. He had never expected his father to sound so decisive on the issue. “What are you talking about? Cornelius Fudge is the Minister of Magic, the highest power in our society. We elected him.”
Fred and George whispered together at the end of the table, and Percy shot them a scowl on instinct. He couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but he was sure it was nasty. Despite this, they continued to talk in low tones, and Percy had to tear his attention away when he realized his father was speaking again.
“Percy,” He said in the same gentle, infuriating, tone. “Fudge hasn’t earned our trust, not as of late. You know what the ministry is like these days. Everyone’s on edge, people are disappearing or being fired, and Fudge is out there spreading these foul rumors, and acting holier-than-thou about it all.”
Percy felt his anger flare as his father insulted the Minister, the cornerstone in his plans for the future. “Don’t talk about him like that.” He sniffed, indignant.
“Oh come off it Percy, Fudge is a prat, we all know that.” Ron piped up from the end of the table, his mouth still stuffed with chicken regardless of growing tensions.
Color rose in Percy’s cheeks, he truly couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “That is enough Ron, how dare you speak about our minister like that.”
Ron scowled and opened his mouth to respond, but Arthur beat him to it. “No. I would actually tend to agree with Ron here.” He flashed an encouraging smile to his youngest son.
Percy spun around in his chair, outraged, “Well if you believe that you’re as much a fool as he is!” Percy snapped, motioning in Ron’s direction.
The table exploded in shouts, and Percy began to drum his fingers on the table anxiously; the noise pressed in on every side. He took a ragged breath to center himself. This was always a fight that was bound to happen. He was in it now and determined to see it to the end. He needed to make his family see common sense for once.
The table hushed when Arthur began to speak.
“Percy, don’t speak to me like that. Especially not at the table. It’s not proper.” His father said. To Percy his tone seemed almost bored.
Percy ground his teeth, “What would you know about being proper?” he mumbled under his breath, but apparently not quiet enough as everyone started to yell again, somehow louder than before. Percy fought the urge to pin his hands against his ears, as the noise seemed to jumble up into one earsplitting scream of outrage.
“Percival!” His father and mother cried simultaneously. He was in trouble now.
He had expected a lecture right then and there, but his father held up his hand as a sign of placation, and the room quieted once more.
“Percy… I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but you need to know the facts. Fudge suspects me–all of us–of giving our support to Dumbledore, and you know the ministry’s opinion on him.”
Percy certainly did, ‘Dumbledore’ was practically a curse in the office right now. A whiff of his name from your department, and you’re in for an inquiry. It always seemed a bit of an overkill to Percy, but he supposed a generation's most powerful wizard turning out to be a madman is bound to create some chaos.
“You’re a hard worker,” Arthur continued, “but you made a grave mistake last year, and you know it. Fudge wouldn’t offer you this opportunity unless there was something in it for him.”
As his father finished up, Percy stilled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was clear to him now that his father wasn’t proud–no, far from it, he didn’t believe Percy deserved this job at all.
“Me!” Percy hissed, “I’m in it for him. I am what he wants, is that so bloody hard to believe?”
His brain didn’t register standing up, but regardless Percy found himself on his feet, wringing his hands by his sides. Arthur stood up as well, to match him.
“Junior assistant to the Minister is a job for a man twice your age and experience. Merlin himself would be lucky to have the position at 19. Percy, I’m sorry, you are not the reason he hired you.”
“Oh why then? Get to the point.” Percy spat.
Arthur shifted uncomfortably on his feet, “Well he-Fudge–has been looking for a way to get closer to Dumbledore and his people for a long while. A very long while, indeed. And now he’s finally got a way; with you. You’re young, eager to prove yourself, and–most importantly-aligned with Dumbledore. You are being used Percy, I need you to understand this.”
It felt like someone had sucked all the air out of him. For a terrifying moment, he felt the fire in his chest burn out, but then, with a gasping breath, the embers sparked and transformed into a roaring flame.
He took a step closer to his father. He was a few inches taller than the man and used it to his advantage as he glowered down at him.
“You.” He seethed, “Do not understand a modicum of what I have been through to prove myself at the ministry. I have worked day in and day out since I was twelve years old for an opportunity like this. I have poured my soul into my job while you sit out in your shed wasting away your life, and your limited opportunities, on your, might I mention illegal, muggle toys.” He paused for a breath, “You know I am genuinely sorry you can’t seem to comprehend success when it’s right in front of you, but I suppose that would be difficult seeing as you’ve spent most of your life actively avoiding it.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“That’s enough Percy.” Arthur said, his tone fighting to be even.
“You want to know why I have to work so hard in everything I do?” Percy continued on as if his father hadn’t said a word. “It’s because of you. It’s because of everything you do, and everything you stand for. It’s because you sat in an office for years, and never even tried to get a promotion while your seven children sat at home, with a rickety house, and second-hand robes, and having to eat cheap until your next paycheck.”
“How dare you!” His father bellowed, “How dare you stand here and insult me, I have done nothing but my best for you and you know that!”
“Well then your best isn’t bloody good enough, is it?”
“What the hell has gotten into you? Unless you haven’t noticed there is a war on Percy and that comes with picking sides. I’m sorry that you are hurt. I’m sorry the ministry isn’t what you thought, that’s a shock to all of us. But that does not give you the right to throw a tantrum like a spoiled child. There are more important things at stake right now than your career.”
Percy scoffed, and words flew out of his mouth without thought, “Oh war this, war that, I’m sorry, but there is no war. I’ve tried to stay quiet, I’ve tried to be reasonable, but this is just ridiculous. You-Know-Who is dead, the only one to say otherwise is that mad old wizard and a teenage boy. And us , for whatever reason. Just when I thought our family name could be dragged no lower, you start preaching the songs of Dumbledore.” Percy hissed his name like it was something dirty.
“Who do you think you are?! Besermiching the name of the greatest wizard in our lifetimes. I raised you better than this Percy Weasley! He is alive. You-Know-Who is alive. Harry saw him return. We don’t have the time to debate this.” Arthur fumed.
“Harry Potter is a liar.” Percy snarled.
Both Ginny and Ron stood up in outrage after that, their howls of protest overlapping. The rest of them–almost miraculously in Fred and George’s case–were stunned into silence.
“I bit my tongue before for Ronald’s sake, but you’ve read the stories in The Prophet!” Percy said, unable to stop talking now that he’s started, “He’s had the adoration of the world since he before he could talk, it’s no wonder he’s gotten used to the fame. He just wants attention, and you’re all indulging him!”
“Harry doesn’t want this!” Ginny spat.
Percy turned to her, “He told you that, did he? Or can you read his mind now after the years of pining?” He said nastily.
It was the first words of the fight he immediately regretted, but it was impossible to undo them now.
Before anyone could defend her Arthur started to speak in a low hiss, a tone of voice none of his children had ever heard from him before. Percy almost took a step back in sheer surprise.
“You may think otherwise, but you do not know everything Percy. You haven’t a clue of what life was like during the war. You haven’t a clue the fear we had to live in everyday, and the destruction You-Know-Who created.” As he continued to rant Arthur’s voice boomed impossibly louder, making Percy’s head spin. “Dumbledore is giving us a chance. To fight back, to save lives, and anyone in their right minds should take it. I will follow him as far and as long as it takes.”
“Then you are more of an imbecile than I suspected.” Percy snapped. That was the last straw.
“Out!” Arthur roared, finally fed up “Get out of my house!”
Percy stood stock still for a moment as the blood drained from his face.
“I don’t care where you go,” Arthur said in a vaguely calmer tone, “But I do not want to see you here tonight. Take a walk, think about what you have said, and we will talk about it tomorrow.”
Percy. Perfect prefect Percy. Had just been kicked out. He felt sick. For a horrifying moment he truly thought he might throw up, but the nausea soon passed and he was left with nothing but dull shock. Then the anger returned, and this time it was an anger beyond reason. Blood pounded in his ears. They had chosen Dumbledore over him. They had chosen Harry Potter, his mother’s surrogate son, over him. His family had made a choice, and it was time for him to make one too. This was it. He was finished.
“No.” Percy growled.
He yanked back his chair and stalked away. As he passed Bill his older brother tried to grab his arm, Percy didn’t spare him a second glance–missing Bill’s gaze of concern–as he yanked himself out of his grip.
“Percy come back here!” His mother finally entered the conversation, but uncharacteristically he ignored her as well.
He reached the stairs before a nagging feeling in his gut forced him to spin around on the spot, addressing his family once more, “You may all involve yourself in a pretend war if you particularly want to, but I, for one, will not. I have worked too hard to get where I am today to be ruined by my last name. And if you are going to run around with a crackpot bent on chaos then so be it, but I will not be a part of it, and I will make well sure everybody knows that. I am loyal to my ministry, and I will continue to place my trust in them until the day there is any authentic proof against them. A day which is not coming.”
For once in his life the Weasley family was quiet. Percy felt a sick sense of pride that he was the one to cause it. He continued up the stairs and was about three steps up before a stroke of genius hit him, he could apparate, and he with a crack appeared in his childhood bedroom. Now that he was alone, reality started to dawn on him, but he ignored it. Just like he ignored the sting in his eyes, and the funny way his breath sounded, and how the knot in his chest was so tight it felt like it was going to break at any moment. He ignored everything but the stuff he was haphazardly throwing into a suitcase–he’d never been so messy before in his life.
A traitorous part of his soul longed for someone to open his door, to pull him away from his luggage and tell him to stay. No one did.
So, some minutes later he considered himself packed–he could always sneak in for more later if absolutely necessary–and before he could change his mind he was away.
His brain felt hazy and heavy, and when Percy apparated he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d end up. He found himself standing in the sand on the coast of Cornwell. His parents used to bring him here as a child. It only took one whiff of the salty air, one bought of crushing nostalgia, for his tears to fall.
Everything was not okay.