Work Text:
Kingsley Shacklebolt had come to Percy’s sullied flat himself. He had come to ask Percy about coming back to the ministry and helping clean up the place, to get it running smoothly for the new administration.
It felt like an olive branch. Offering Percy a place back on the good guys' side.
He wasn't sure if he deserved it.
But it was something to do.
So he went to work.
He dressed robotically into his green tweed suit. He thought it clean. And he was sure Kingsley would forgive him for forgoing a tie since he wasn't technically an employee.
The ministry had survived the war. Of course, it had. Very little fighting went on here.
Percy didn't know how he felt being here. He tried to stop having feelings after the Battle of Hogwarts.
Under the gilded arched of the Atrium, a few wizards made their way through the lavish marble hallway. The structure itself was evocative of the undeniable authority the Ministry had over Britain - both wizarding and muggle.
Percy felt so small.
At the end of the Atrium was the statue that had been erected during Thicknesse’s time. An unbothered witch and wizard perched on thrones that crushed a group of muggles underneath. Their carved faces were set in the form of agony.
Not only was the depiction itself painful to look at, but the shine that came off the gold stung Percy’s crusted eyes. He concluded it must have been enchanted. Which seems garish even for the Death Eaters and their dramatics.
Magic is Might it said.
And how mighty they were.