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Chapter Text

17 October, 1995

I had not been happy with any of the previous interviews for the Minister's open position for a secretary. The last one wore too much perfume and sent the senior undersecretary into a coughing fit when he came back to the office an hour after the interview was completed. The one before that came recommended by the Head of the Secretarial Department, but she was offered a job in the private sector. Another was five minutes late and then asked why she was being interviewed by a child.

This was getting ridiculous. 

Now I was interviewing a young woman Mrs. Fudge had found, the daughter of an old school friend of hers. I was not excited about engaging in nepotism but this position needed to be filled so I could focus on more important matters and she apparently worked for MACUSA and had no need for the complexities of a visa due to parental citizenship.

If she was not as insipid as the others I had interviewed over the last few weeks, her being American would really be her only black mark.

My intention was to meet her at the lift and escort her to the office for the interview. I closed the office door behind me and double checked the name on the folder and the enclosed work history.

Graves, Audrey Constance

That’s a grim sort of name.

I flipped the page to the recommendation letters, one from a former Senator called Weathers who spoke of her intelligence, speech writing skills and work ethic. 

I summoned a small pack of quills from the supply closet to resupply my desk before I forgot about it. It was always best to be ahead of these little things. 

Returning to the papers in the folder was an easy thing, I would wait by the lift for exactly four minutes and if she decided to be late, as being fifteen minutes early was considered the courtesy for interviewees, then I would interview her as a courtesy to Mrs. Fudge, but she would not get the job. I did not abide tardiness. 

As I turned the corner, something slammed into me from the other side, I grabbed the corner to slow my fall as a storm of papers and quills consumed my vision. 

“I am so sorry!” A rushed foreign accent from the other side of the corner, sounding horrified at what had just transpired. As she should.

I got to my feet with a rush of muttering to gather my papers and my scattered quills with a wave of my wand. I could hear the woman around the corner doing the same thing I was. When I had collected everything I needed, I stepped around the corner to make introductions and froze for a moment.

I thought she would be older, closer to thirty, not some teenager fresh out of the schoolroom. 

She had a pretty face, like the heroines from the fairy tale picture books Ginny liked me to read to her when she was little, the deep blue eyes and ink black hair pulled back in a prim bun were a radical contrast to her round freckled face and flushed cheeks. I noticed she was tall for a woman, the top of her head coming to the centre of my chest, so neither of us had to hurt ourselves to look the other in the eyes. 

“Are you alright?” I broke the momentary silence.

“I’m fine, I’m looking for a Mr. Weasley-”

I felt my shoulders tighten, after a year of being called Weatherby, being referred to as Mr. Weasley was still a bit of a change and something I still associated with my father. 

“-in the Minister’s Support Staff Office? I’m supposed to interview with him in fifteen minutes.”       

“That’s me.”

She stuck out her hand quickly with a smile that was too large and toothy. Her wide, nervous eyes working in tandem to make her look either vaguely insane or incredibly frazzled. 

"I'm Audrey Graves, nice to meet you!"

Oh, this was not going to work.

I shook her warm hand and introduced myself in a brusque, clipped tone that sounded professional and authoritative that seemed to suit the situation and my position.

"Follow me please."

I thought she would be older, not some teenager!

I led her down to the Minister's Support Staff Office, her footsteps muffled and near silent behind me. I held the door open for her and followed her into the office before moving over to my desk and sitting down. I pulled the chair out on the other side of my desk with a flick of my wand, wordlessly inviting her to have a seat so we could begin the interview. It took her a few moments to get herself situated, placing her folder on my desk in a manner that spoke of a highly organized individual. 

I began the interview.

Apparently, Ms. Graves was a dual citizen, she was qualified to work for the Ministry with no extra paperwork required. She was a speechwriter for Senator Weathers last summer, he had written her a glowing recommendation. I learned that Americans call muggles No-Majs, which is a stupid term in my opinion. Mr. Crouch had been careful to warn me that the Americans were particularly unhinged in many cultural and political regards.  

We spoke about her experience with MACUSA. Ms. Graves spoke about the projects she had researched during her internships with regards to infrastructure and magical concealment. She answered every request I had for more detail in a way that was succinct and precise.  

Then I asked her to explain her short employment with Senator Graves, I did not think nepotism should have any place in politics or in a person’s direct employment. I believed it to be unethical.  Ms. Graves explained that he was a third cousin who agreed to take her as a last-minute intern as Senator Weathers had stepped away from his position due to the passing of his wife. Working for Senator Graves was not a family favour, but a political one from the man she was originally going to intern for again. 

I would accept that. Though, I was still weary over such a close familial association.

Ms. Graves also appeared to be an exceptional student according to her final grades from Illvermorny. She earned ten NEWTs, or whatever the equivalent was, apparently dropping astronomy after her fifth year, something I thought was ridiculous because astronomy was a fascinating branch of study, though useless for career prospects and I could see how a clearly sensible woman like Ms. Graves would want to focus on other topics.

“You’ve done very well in school.” Ten NEWTs were incredibly impressive. I knew how hard it was to score well on those final exams.

“Thank you.” 

The conversation drifted off as I found myself more interested in the paperwork qualifications, I had an idea that Ms. Graves was an affable personality. Quiet. Sensible. 

When the clock chimed for eleven, I ended the interview by getting to my feet and offering Ms. Graves my hand to shake. Ms. Graves shook my hand in farewell, her bracelets clinking together in a quiet symphony while I said courtesies and privately noted once more how warm her hands were. I decided the polite thing to do would be to escort her to the lift. She thanked me once more for the opportunity to interview as the lift arrived. Ms. Graves left as quietly as she had arrived and I returned to the office to put my notes on Smith's desk for discussion.

'Polite… Well spoken… Grating accent… Qualified…'

If I added 'too young' that would make me a hypocrite and it was against procedure to discriminate against someone for their age. I left it off and would allow Smith to make the final call and I would send the rejection or acceptance letter at his discretion. 

For once, I had no complaints.

Chapter Text

October 25, 1995

Elizabeth Fudge reminded me of my mum, only Mrs. Fudge was a far more sensible sort of woman, unable to be swayed by the personality cult of Albus Dumbledore. She had a round, sweet face, there was something soft and maternal in it. Her blonde hair was tinged with white and grey. While she was never up in the Minister’s Office very often, she came by enough to know the staff very well. She often brought biscuits, which I tried to refuse out of a sense of propriety. Then she would say I was too skinny and leave them on my desk anyway while Smith had the audacity to giggle! at his desk and the Minister’s wife would turn her attentions to Audrey to inquire about her great-aunt’s health - at least I imagined that would be her plan for this visit.

But Audrey was doing some training with the wider administrative team today regarding filing systems and the Minister was away in a meeting, and had borrowed a clerk from another department. Melinda was getting ready to retire and I had decided this was not threatening to anyone’s position. Namely mine – I tried to insist on going, but until Audrey was fully trained on the internal systems and the like, I was handling some of the general administrative tasks until they could be passed over.

Entertaining the Minister’s wife, who seemed to have a poor sense of when the Minister was out of the office – or maybe she planned it this way to talk to me - was not my job. That did not matter as these social encounters had become a regular affair during my time in this office.

Elizabeth was now standing in front of my desk with the warmest, most pleasant of smiles and I knew I was taking work home tonight. 

“Hello Percy,” she pulled a small bag of homemade biscuits out of her purse and popped them on my desk. “I made too many for the Apothecary meeting again. Please take them. I won’t hear no for an answer.” The look she gave me was wry and Smith was watching from his desk with his usual bemused expression.

I was under the impression that Smith was a bit simple-minded, but that was just my opinion judging by his propensity for simple amusements.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fudge.”

“How many times do I need to ask you to call me Elizabeth?” She has big green eyes that the Minister often says get him to do things he does not want to do. Apparently, they also work on other people – I am doing my best to resist. She’s not my mother, I cannot be manipulated that way!

“A few more Liz, he’s a bit thick.” Smith teased from his desk as he put another folder in his complete drawer.

Elizabeth Fudge was not the kind of woman one envisioned as a political wife. She was an apothecary herbalist, growing mostly medicinal plants. The others I had been exposed too, which I had to admit were very few and from a particular upper-class idea of Pureblood, strictly managed the home. I found talking with them in passing a dull sort of experience, but Mrs. Fudge by comparison was much easier to speak with, despite her claims of being shy and more then content out of the public eye.

“How’s Audrey doing?”

Odd, she’s barely been in due to her training with the wider administrative department.

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth nudged the tin of biscuits closer to me, a wordless bribe. I was not sure the purpose of it – she was on staff due to the papers Elizabeth had put on my desk. I could understand the investment, but there was really nothing to say, be it good or bad. “I just worry so... She’s such a nice girl, I’m just afraid she’ll be lonely in a new country. I worry a bit.”

“We’ll look after her, Liz.” Smith’s voice cut across the office; a bit too loud for the setting. “Right Percy?”

I could do nothing but nod and assure the Minister’s wife, “Of course, Mrs. Fudge.”

“Elizabeth, please.” She leaned closer as Smith snickered at his desk, sounding like a deranged pygmypuff. Her voice was a whisper only for my hearing when she spoke again. “You should come to dinner again; we’d love to have you over again once everything calms down a little.”

She smiled in such a warm, welcoming, maternal sort of way that any efforts to refuse died in my throat. I could only nod in acceptance and accept that there would be no further protest from myself on the matter.

Oo0Oo0

27 October, 1995

Over the next couple of days working with Audrey, I found her to be a perfect administrative assistant, (despite her constant descriptions of being a secretary, her formal title was administrative assistant - it was much more dignified). Audrey was quiet, measured, made herself useful in the office with menial tasks that I did not have time for. 

Her accent got less grating as time went on. Thankfully she defied the usual stereotype of the loud foreigner by being indescribably pleasant. 

She had lovely manners; they were almost English at points. She was very punctual. Always quick with a handshake and a kind inquiry to guests and visitors. She did not wave her hands around as she spoke about things related to the schedule. Mrs. Fudge described Audrey as the kind of girl someone could bring home to their family and have no concerns with. I had heard she was living with her great-aunt who was a good friend of the Minister's wife until she could get on her feet. What a benefit to have connections like hers to start a career on – but I had never needed a leg up that way. My position was earned.

Though I did have some complaints.

She could not spell; she spelled in the American fashion that had the gall to call itself English. Someone had corrected her Curriculum Vitae for her, that much was clear. Maybe that great-aunt she spoke so highly of.

There was also this latest incident where she said the name of, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!

Who does that? It just came out of nowhere! I now had hot tea all over my lap!

'Oh, she's such a nice girl!' I could hear Mrs. Fudge's voice in my head was a kind of pleasant mockery while I dried my trousers with an irate wave of my wand – the memory of her handing over Audrey’s papers was flashing through my memories. Elizabeth Fudge would think much differently if she had heard her schoolmate's daughter say what she had.

Smith hustled Audrey out of the room and I bemoaned the loss of my tea and now my work clothes smelled like Earl Grey. Fantastic. These were new work clothes, a bit of an accomplishment for me to have some for every day of the week, I had started working for the Ministry in some old school robes of my father's that my mother and I had taken the tell-tale school trim off of. I needed to leave my old life behind in every way to succeed. 

Audrey apologised afterwards when she had been chastised by Smith, even for his lackadaisical personality he was sure to find the matter as abhorrent as I had.

There was a sincere softness in her eyes that made it difficult for me to look away or say anything more about the offence. It was rare that anyone apologised to me for anything. It was shocking. I was not sure I had ever heard it sincerely uttered to me in my childhood home in years.

She has pretty eyes.

Get a grip, Weasley

Oo0Oo0

15 November, 1995

Nobby Clark Junior was a pest. I had informed him on multiple occasions that he did not need to be an errand boy for unimportant requests that could be sent in a memo.

Ridiculous!

Then he would insist on monopolising Audrey's time for aimless discussions about whatever drama was going on in the Beast, Being and Spirit Office this week. Honestly, I never need to know those things about Amon Burns, but clearly Clark thought someone else has to share in his amusement and I was not sure why he believed Audrey to be a proper recipient of his aimless stories of the incompetence of ghost management.

I had started moving him towards the lift if I came back from running errands for the Minister to find Clark in the hallway. The Minister's wife caught me one day doing so and giggled on her way to lunch with her husband as if at some private joke. Very embarrassing.

Really, Audrey was a pretty girl but that was no reason to bother her like this. 

Where did that come from?

In any case, this had gone on long enough.

Audrey had been looking for files in the file room across the hall for me so I could finish this project for the Minister, leaving Smith and I alone in the office. Smith to snicker over some senseless report and me to write a statement for the Daily Prophet on the Minister's behalf when there was a knock at the door.

Clark opened the door with Smith's permission, holding a report and I was so tired of this particular song and dance. 

"Hello Junior!" Smith exclaimed, his smile sincere at the promise of news from a more, as Smith described, hands on department. "What news from your office?"

"Same old stuff I'm afraid," he looked over at Audrey's desk. "Is Audrey in?"

"No, Clark, I'm afraid Audrey is running errands to the records office." My tone was clipped and reflected my boredom with this whole situation. 

Clark nodded, his head bobbing like a chicken in thought as he composed a response. "Which one?"

I felt one of my eyebrows rise in an unspoken question. Smith was covering his mouth at his desk, to hide his amusement.

"Why?" I knew why, or I thought I did, I was not sure I wanted to be right.

"Well," Clark dropped his voice to try and sound older and not like he had graduated Hogwarts this July. "I'd like to ask her out."

Smith had changed colour at his desk to a brilliant scarlet as he tried not to laugh.

"Is that why you keep coming up here instead of sending a memo?" 

"She's pretty!"

Merlin's pants! 

This needs to stop. I can't handle this on a regular basis. The thought of Clark coming up here daily to take Audrey to lunch means more time I have to spend in idle chit chat with this strange person.

"It's the one on the third floor."

Clark lit up and I did not even feel bad about it as he turned to leave before I could say anything else. "Thanks!"

I jumped to my feet and peered out the door to see Clark's retreating back heading for the lift. "Clark!"

He stopped and looked back at me with a glowing expression. "Yes?"

"Send the memos for your department's requests."

"Sure!"

He turned the corner to wait on the lift and I returned to the office to find Eddie in peals of laughter.

"He's got gumption! Swinging up here to talk to a girl with any excuse he can find! I was like that once!"

"I do not run a dating service for Nobby Clark Junior. If he wants to pester Audrey, he can do it somewhere else."

Smith was too busy laughing to continue.

I made my way back to my desk to deal with more important things than a lovestruck idiot. I picked up a memo from the Accounting Department to read.

"Audrey! You just missed Nobby!"

Audrey moved from the doorway towards my desk, refusing to dignify Smith's comment with a response, (really the only way to handle Smith) prompting me to look up at her when she put the files on my desk.

"Thank you for handling Nobby."

"You're welcome." I moved my inkwell and folded my hands on my desk before me, hopefully looking every bit the professional I was. "He doesn't need to be up here as much as he is."

Audrey's brilliant smile captured all of my attention and I barely heard her agreement with the sentiment

Chapter Text

December 19, 1995

It was the Minister who told me about my father being in Saint Mungo’s.

He invited me to his office for a quick lunch meeting in his usual jovial tones and asked if I had heard the news after offering me a spot of tea from that morning’s Tea Witch Agatha and a delivery of the day’s special from the House Elves who reportedly worked in the kitchens here. It was not as flavourful as my mother’s cooking, but far better than my own attempts some days.  

“What news?” I had already brought the Minister a copy of the paper and noted the sections the Minister may find interesting. 

“It’s your father,” Minister Fudge’s voice was low, like a parent delivering bad news about the family pet to his children. “He’s been admitted to Saint Mungo’s this morning under… unusual circumstances.”

“Unusual?” I scoffed, a warm anger brewing somewhere in my chest. “Let me guess, some muggle dust bins decided to take a quick stroll along the Thames?”

The Minister seemed to bite back a momentary smile. “No, no, nothing that ridiculous.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together for a moment before folding them primly on the desk in front of him. “In fact, we know nothing about how your father ended up in that state,” he slid me a sheet of parchment with some information by an investigative Healer from Saint Mungo’s with today’s date scribbled at the top and atrocious handwriting as the actual report. I discerned enough to gather that the wounds seemed animal in nature, but were not responding well to magical cures…

I could hear the Minister offering me a chance to go visit Arthur, that I would be paid and nothing would be noted that I was even gone for a couple of hours on a personal matter. The pointed refusals flew out of me without prompting. No, I had too much to do here. No, there was no need for me to go. No, I had no desire to see Arthur in any capacity, ill or not. He brought whatever happened on himself and I had no sympathy for his ongoing, bad decisions.

It was an easy thing to leave the office, Minister Fudge continuing to offer sympathies and reiterating that his offer stood as he had already given a memo to Smith about the matter in case I changed my mind.

Smith tried to convince me next, his words falling on deaf ears as I replayed the fight with my father that had driven me from home. 

“It’s your father, I know he’s a bit mad, but you only get one.”

‘...Do you think you earned this after the enquiry?’

“That’s not any of your business, Smith!”

‘Harry says-’

“Fine. Don’t see him. Do you want to go and at least talk to the hospital clerk?”

‘...You know Harry!’

“No!”

‘...Choosing the Ministry over your family!’

“Fine. I won’t say anything else about it.”

‘...Raised you better than this!’

“See that you don’t!”  

‘No son of mine!’

I sat down at my desk, ignoring Audrey’s returning presence to the office. I could not say for sure when she had come in or how much she had heard of the matter, but she was not a nosy, interfering sort of person and said nothing about anything she had heard. Really, one of her best qualities was that she was not a gossip and why I knew she was perfect for this job after the rocky start.

There was no guilt tied to my decision. Arthur said I was no son of his and to hear that from my father, when I knew I was correct and would come back to grovel when he realized Potter was completely cracked if the reports from Madam Umbridge were anything to go by. 

I found Audrey in a filing room a couple of hours later, scaring her when the door opened with an unintentional clanging noise. 

“Sorry,” my voice was rushed and echoed through the room in a way that sounded obnoxious to my own ears.

“You’re fine.” There were strands of midnight black hair escaping Audrey’s prime bun to frame her face in a manner that made her look softer than she already did. Her high heeled shoes were off and on the floor at the end of the row, unprofessional, but oddly endearing. Like a kind of misplaced faerie creature, a Nymph maybe? 

It took me a minute to collect my thoughts, and what came out of my mouth next was a bit stupid. “It’s quiet in here.” 

I was clearly interrupting some intelligent thoughts for Audrey, because that woman is the last person I would ever believe to not be thinking about something very smart and probably far more interesting than office chatter all the time-

“Yes, files are sensitive to noise.”

The low chuckle that escaped me was sorely needed after the morning I had as I moved towards the cabinet I came in here for, opening it with a quick tap of my wand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see your father?”    

I had drawn Audrey’s name for the office Christmas gift exchange and I had been struggling to find something she would like for the last week. Office supplies maybe? Nice custom ones? Coffee? I needed to make a decision and go to the shops tonight. There was a nice night market in one of the Wizarding streets in London, lots of foreigners and craft makers, I was sure I could find something there. Now it was just going to be a bog issue ink and a quill from a third-rate bird.

“If you want to go to the hospital, I can cover for you with the Minister. If you truly don’t want to go, I’m not going to judge you for it.”

That was…

“What is your family like?”

There was a part of me that knew. A comfortable, middle-class family who had few worries over money, no need to grow their own food and have a mother in a constant state of worry over providing for more children than could reasonably be afforded on the salary of an unambitious Ministry employee with strange interests that slammed doors on opportunities for himself and his children. I was willing to bet ten galleons that Audrey had a picture-perfect family and the life to go along with it. She was too nice, too conventional, for anything unusual, strange or tragic. In fact, I was sure that-

“Messy.”

Huh?

“Most families are, I think.” Her voice was quiet and thoughtful, carefully picking out her words. “My stepmother plays favourites and my father is too focused on his career-”

“Is that a bad thing?” I did not know what I wanted her to say in response, I did not know why I wanted her to say something to affirm her father’s credible stance on how one should conduct their career or if she wanted… I was not sure where any of those thoughts were going.

“My stepmother playing favourites?” She tilted her head slightly. 

Stepmother? I was not sure how a person could play favourites with Audrey in the room, all poise and good manners and sheer politeness that is so strange after growing up in the yelling chaos of the Burrow.

“No, your father and his career. Is it wrong to want something better than what you started with?” 

“What do you mean?”

My children would not have second-hand wands. They would have new shoes and not clothes that had been rendered thin from excessive repairing and lengthening charms. I would have a nice house somewhere with these two or maybe three children, depending on my wife’s opinions. Though I have a preference for girls, there are some things I can’t control and there are too many boys in my family to get my hopes up for a house of daughters in any case - I’ll make my peace with that when the time comes.

“If you start with nothing, or fighting for scraps of what everyone else has, is it wrong to want more from your life?” The question came out quicker and more aggressively to my hearing than I intended. 

“I don’t think so. My father was more interested in my brother when he was home. Carrying on the family business, family name or some other nonsense.” Audrey looked so… resigned to this apparent facet of her life.

That family name nonsense is so strange. I thought Americans were a little more laissez faire about all of those things.

“My father is content with wand regulations and finds me disappointing for wanting something different from my life then what he wants from me." 

Audrey looked so… restrained, as if there was more see thoughts going on behind her eyes on this matter in particular. The slight pressing of her lips offered a delicate sort of thoughtfulness to her countenance, something I was used to seeing, but generally over her work, not at admissions of a complicated family dynamic. It was an easy thing to look at Audrey, I had found myself making a habit of it because she was just so strange. I learned more about the little minutia of her expressions as the days passed. 

“Clearly we both suffer foolish fathers.” Words tended to come out of me without much thought behind them, because I tended to be correct about most things and knew that I was correct in that assessment.

I gathered up the papers I had come for and walked out the door without another word, my mind a whirl.  

Coffee. I was getting her gifts themed around coffee. I think she needs a mug.

Oo0Oo0

December 22, 1995

I had dined with the Fudges before; the Minister’s wife was always so insistent on having me come around for a private dinner if I had worked late a little too often with the Minister or varying matters – that was only if she pieced that together through the Minister. Minister Fudge claimed it was because she thought I was too skinny; I was beginning to suspect Elizabeth Fudge wanted to be... frankly motherly.

The Fudges had not children, the Minister lamented once that that was all Elizabeth has wanted but sometimes life does not happen the way one envisions. They instead turned their attentions to public works, a noble sort of idea, even if Elizabeth was not the kind of person to step out in public as a Minister’s wife. I knew she raised a shocking variety of flowers and medicinal plants; she had taken great pleasure in taking me through her greenhouse on previous visits. It was the sort of collection that could potentially shame the greenhouses at Hogwarts if she was more inclined to dangerous plants. There was a fantastic library, the Minister tended to go through his collection once every six months and allow his staff first pick of his castoffs. I picked up an omnibus of mystery novels and a few books of political theory. Smith had made a beeline for a few travelogues of the European continent. Audrey was more interested in the local history guides, a couple of books of American history and, while using Smith as a cover, a couple of tawdry romance novels Elizabeth Fudge had thrown in for donation.

Gordy, the Fudge’s House Elf, answered the door and escorted me inside. He was a well-cared for creature, no signs of punishment or any of the usual matters that would upset Hermione. If Elizabeth Fudge wanted to mother something that was not a plant, Gordy would probably be her nearest recipient.

I had declined an invitation to a dinner party in November, stating I was getting some work done on my flat. Which was true, there were a few issues with the water pipes that needed a professional, the water sprites that came out of there would never be forgotten. I had gotten a discount on rent until the end of the year for the experience. There was a clause in the contract.

Elizabeth Fudge was setting the table in the small, private dining room she preferred and laying out a nice meal of roast chicken and laying out a few choice salads along with the varying other sides. It would never compare to my mother’s cooking, but the Fudge’s came close enough for me not to make any excuses to avoid dinner invitations when extended.

“Hello Percy!”   

Gordy disappeared as if he had never been there at all.

“Please, have a seat!”

“Thank you.”

“I heard about what happened, how are you holding up?”

“Fine, because it’s not my business.”

Her brow furrowed in concern, but she said nothing else on the matter.

“It must be so exciting to be a young man spreading his wings in the world these days. Anything exciting outside of work? Young people these days are so well-rounded.”

“No, not really. A school friend of mine signed on with Puddlemere United, he’s doing well enough to start offering free tickets.”

“That’s wonderful! Anything else? Pub quizzes? Nice girls maybe?”

My mind conjured an image of Audrey sticking one of her feather quills in her dark hair when she was in a hurry while laughing at something Smith said the other day before I pushed the image away through sheer force of will.

“No, I work all the time and I’ve been doing some work at the flat.”

I don’t understand why Elizabeth Fudge was smiling like that, a smile, secretive, expression that confused me. It was gone in a moment and I hand no opportunity to ponder the matter.

“I knew Audrey’s mother, you know. We went to school together. I still see her great-aunt on a regular basis. Lucinda is a very strong-willed woman and I think she overpowered Lucina’s personality a lot at home. Might explain why she ran off the states.”

"I didn't know you were so close to the family." That was an honest thing to say, I thought arranging an interview for Audrey was more of a passing professional favour, not a personal one to a long dead school friend. I knew she did some work with Audrey's great-aunt, I just thought it was more professional then friendly. 

“Well,” Elizabeth fussed with her sleeves for a moment. “Audrey really reminds me of her mum, I didn’t think I had it in me to say no. Who knows where she would have ended up.” She smiled. “Thank you for looking after her, I think she needs kind people in her life.”

I was not aware I had been, but I did not have the energy to correct Elizabeth in this matter.

I was not going to think about Audrey tonight. Not her smile, not her pretty eyes and way she quietly observed the world around her. That would not cross my mind after this moment.

I did not have to fuss over that for too long as we were soon joined by the Minister. The three of us sat down at the table, engaging a in a friendly sort of amiable chatter. I struggled to admit that I was not having full meals on a regular basis, there was just no need for all the effort as I lived alone. I paid my own rent, but crafting full regular meals more than twice a week to create leftovers was really beyond me. I did not like leftovers, but I did not care to spend the money to eat different things every day, but the rotation made the whole plan less offensive.

The dinner passed in pleasant conversation, where Elizabeth kept the conversation going to topics of local matters. Updates on the internal news of the apothecary community, telling me about people who I did not know and their business practices – I was learning as time passed that Elizabeth Fudge was very much an expert in her field for her herbology and connections to wider community of apothecaries, several of whom were developing new cures and refining old ones. The Minister would nod, smile, offer input on the more economic aspects or new import regulations that may have been affecting those interests

I did not imagine this was a generally accepted topic in political circles, many department heads I had met had housewives who cared for the household affairs. Having a housewife showed I was earning enough, putting the option on the table for someone to run the home, but... Maybe there was something to be said for a partner who has their own interests and outside career.

Maybe I should put some real thought into the idea.

Chapter Text

January 1, 1996

Oliver was engaging in a bit of what I heard referred to growing up as ‘hair of the dog’, meaning he was having more alcohol to try and cure his hangover as he half sat and half laid in a pathetic sprawl on my sofa. I did not know how more alcohol was going to help, or if it would at all. He should have taken my advice and drank water when I told him too, but he was so insistent that he would be fine! He was puking in an alley at two in the morning while claiming he was fine!

I was very impressed with myself for apparating both of us back to my flat with all of our limbs intact. 

Though, I did lose one of Oliver’s eyebrows.

I was not going to tell him. 

I would let him draw his own conclusions on the matter.

He would never know that I slept on the floor next to my bed, too drunk to climb into it by the time we arrived at my flat.

Oliver took another sip of gin and put another darkening charm on the curtain behind him with a groan at the slim shafts of light that peeked through the cloth and the noise of the street beyond.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Oliver shook his head dramatically before realising that was a terrible idea and slumping off the sofa to sit on the floor before puking into the small trash bin I had given him that he had been caressing in his lap the same way one would cuddle a child or a small animal. Or in Oliver's case, a quaffle.

“Honestly Oliver, I warned you about this.”

Oliver pulled himself away from the bin he was retching into, “That match was a farce, Perce!”

“I know. Put your face back in the bin!”

I went to the kitchen to give Oliver some peace and start making some toast in a hot pan while Oliver continued to make sad noises in the living room.

The events of our New Year's Pub Crawl were crystal clear in my memory, in truth, the Leaky Cauldron was our second stop of the night and Oliver had a vast overestimation of his alcohol tolerance. Especially after the trauma Audrey had inflicted upon his person by turning his foot into a flipper while trying to heal it after dropping a frozen pitcher of beer on it.

It took everything I had not to laugh at the memory.

I knew it was poor form, Oliver being a very old friend, but his face, Audrey's drunken apology was a perfect storm. The slowly dawning horror, the continued convinced attempts to correct the mutation inflicted upon his physical person. The drunken, flat voweled American rambling that included thoughts about her thoughts on my hair, calling it pretty of all things. There were worse compliments in the world, but she was definitely very drunk to even think that and drunker still to say it. Alcohol truly did warp one’s perceptions of other people's appearances.

The toast had been carefully covered in butter and placed on a plate that was soon brought down on the small coffee table that one of my elderly neighbours had sold to me after I moved in, stating that the flat was too sparse to impress girls. Which I thought was a ridiculous thing to say, I had some furniture and my dining table matched the chairs, as opposed to the ramshackle collection at the Burr… No. I was not going to think about that. I was better off now. I was moving up in the world.

“So,” Oliver looked at me as I sat down with a contented, teasing expression that a man who had just been puking in my rubbish bin for the last several minutes should not possess as he vanished the contents of his new friend, the bin, and started to nibble a piece of toast. “Who’s the bird?”

My shoulders stiffened. "My co-worker."

"The American one you keep complaining about?"

"I'm not complaining-"

"Oh, she can't spell properly!" Oliver's impression of my voice was borderline offensive. I did not sound like that, high pitched and fussy. My complaints were legitimate. American spelling was hard on the eyes. 

"Really that's not-"

"She's pretty." Oliver looked at me with a self-satisfied expression, cat-like and content before he tore fully into his toast with a happy noise.

The response to that statement flew out of my mouth without pre-emptive thought. “She hates Quidditch.”

I did not know if that was true or not, but if she did not know what the three balls of Quidditch were, she was not going to be Oliver’s type.

Oliver winced, “And you like that?”

I gripped the squirming worm of my composure while I tried to be stoic and unreadable, but that was never a talent I possessed and Oliver understood this for his own amusement.  

The smile on Oliver’s face was one that was teasing and smug. "You carried Bridget Mulligan's books to class for half of second year."

"She was in one of those clunky muggle things!"

"Until she went to the hospital wing two days after term started!"

“She clearly needed more help than what getting that thing off would provide!”

“Lizzie Harbour in fourth year? You offered her Arithmancy tutoring, dated her for two weeks, sang terrible love songs from the wireless in our dorm room after she snogged you and moped for a month when she started dating the Ravenclaw Chaser.”

“That was-”

“And-” Oliver continued, clearly fully reminiscing about my more embarrassing, previous infatuations with the opposite sex. “Don’t even get me started on the Penny-”

“Okay! Alright! I don’t want to hear it!”

"I'm just saying Perce, you get a little…"

"What?"

"Invested. I've watched you lose your head over pretty girls before and then you screw it up by being - a lot!"

“I-I am not invested!” There was warmth creeping up my neck, I hoped it was not obvious. "She's my administrative assistant!” Actually, Audrey was the office administrative assistant, but still it was not a particularly large distinction. “We spend eight hours a day together with Smith! Really, Oliver, if you worked with Smith, you would understand how essential it is to curb his weird habits for the sake of the Minister’s reputation! You would want someone else sane in that office!"

"Aren't you basically the Minister's secretary?"

"Junior Assistant!"

"A girl called your hair pretty once when she was sloshed and now, you're absolutely obsessed."

"I am not obsessed!" My ears were burning with obvious embarrassment. I had not devoted the last several hours of tending Oliver with passing thoughts of the curve of her neck and deep blue of her eyes.

Oliver shrugged a wry smile, "Sure, you're just invested."

"She had too much to drink. She turned your foot into a flipper."

Smart and talented... If she's single we are a lost cause as a species. 

Oliver nodded, "That's true," he wiggled his toes on my table for emphasis. "Thanks for fixing that by the way."

I moved his feet off my side table with a wave of my wand.

I could still feel Audrey's shoulder under my hands as I tried to keep her upright. I doubted she had ever been this drunk in her life, she seemed too prim to drink herself into that state on her own with her sweet idle smiles, her hands folded neatly in her lap and her crossed ankles- get away from that Weasley. Though everything pieced itself together when I saw her friends. I remembered Zara from school, she was a year behind me and was Penny’s preferred partner for Charms homework. I once heard a story that involved her sneaking alcohol onto Hogwarts grounds to celebrate a Quidditch victory- something I had warned her Prefect about and tried to catch her in the act of smuggling with no success.

Misty was a couple of years ahead of me, but she had made a menace of herself practicing goblin magic on various iron implements that she would receive in her parcels from home and enabling them to shock her dormmates. I heard stories I would dare not repeat. Thankfully she was the Slytherin House prefects’ problem and not one of mine. The twins and Ron were a frequent headache and thankfully I was out of school when Ginny began developing an… ugh… interest in… boys. 

There was nothing going on between Audrey and I. 

Nothing would happen.

And we were going to be the best team the Minister's Office had ever seen.

Oo0Oo0

January 15, 1996

The reports of a mass breakout from Azkaban were the first thing to greet me that morning. Along with the massive crowd of reporters who had found their way the Minister’s support staff office – I wondered how they had received this information at the same time we had here at the Ministry, but that was beyond my realm of knowledge. Now, it was strictly in how to move through crowds and snap at people who were trying to storm up to the Minister’s office door – he apparently in a meeting with the Head of the Office of Magical Law Enforcement.

I sat down at my desk and prepared a few other things and began to rearrange the minister’s schedule due to a combination of the chaos in the office and decided which parts of his day could be rearranged and began to draft the bare bones of a statement for the evening Prophet for the Minister.

Audrey arrived shortly afterwards, seeming to struggle slightly through the crowd before coming over to my desk to ask what was going on.

Ten convicted Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban was major news.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch them and their accomplice.”

“Accomplice?”

“Sirius Black.”

“The mass murderer?”

I had done my best to be reassuring and confident... but we had never caught Sirius Black had we?

Chapter Text

February 23, 1996

I had long ago made a habit of arriving half an hour before I was scheduled to begin at the Ministry, I found it far more prudent on be on hand well before office hours and found myself staying late more often than not. Despite with Smith said, it was not a sign of instability. It was a matter of principle. One did not become Minister of Magic by engaging in slacking behaviours, no-! That was a practice that would prove me an able leader, someone trustworthy and stable. I would never ask more of people then I was willing to do myself. Governments and societies did not run themselves.

What greeted me this morning was a note from the Minister hovering over my desk as I entered the office. I could tell it was from the Minister because he always sent his private notes in the form of green bowler hats. He said it added an air of whimsy to quick personal communications, he never wanted anyone to open a note that was unofficial in nature and be nervous. Well, people only needed to be nervous if they were not diligent in performing their duties. I never had any reason to be nervous and this was a matter where the Minister and I diverged in views.

The bowler hat note unfolded itself with a tap of my wand. It did not read itself aloud like a Howler, but the note was spidery and rushed and was shoving itself into my face in urgency. I had to hold it away from me as it kept trying to shove itself up my nose.

Weasley,

I’m taking Elizabeth to Saint Mungo’s. I don’t expect to be in today and please rearrange my schedule as needed, give proper regards. Be nice to people.  I’ll explain what happened when I can.

C. Fudge

Unusual. The Minister always came to work on time, he was prompt, prepared and articulate, all qualities I admired in an employer. It was unusual to receive short notice of anything and Elizabeth was, to be frank, fit and fairly energetic in her manner. All that time outside tending her garden.

As the Minister’s Personal Assistant, I would be giving word of his absence and consulting with Smith to ensure a smooth day. I began the process of going through the schedule and drafting the appropriate notes, keeping the reason for these cancelled meetings vague and setting them aside for Smith’s perusal and Audrey’s... well, personable flair was how Elizabeth described it. Audrey was good at making the dry Ministry notes feel very warm and personal – I imagine it was why she was such a quietly popular presence to our high contact offices and the Minister's particular charities. Smith just said it was her accent. 

I spent the next twenty minutes in a peaceful silence

Smith came into the office next, Audrey on his heels as to two discussed some matter related to pizza... I did not know what a ‘deep dish’ was but Audrey was describing it as an ‘offence to nature and Italians’ and ‘all pizza was to be eaten with hands,’ someone had been run out of a shop in New York for pulling out a fork and a knife per Audrey’s account to Smith. What an uncivilised country!

“Good morning, Percy,” Audrey’s voice pulled me away from my papers and drew my attention to the pair of them in full.

“You went home last night, right?” Smith cut in before I could say anything. “You know you don’t get overtime, right?”

I got Time Off in Lieu under TOIL policies, but only when I stayed late on request. Coming in early, I had been told, was just being a git. People were free to think what they liked and I would reap the rewards of my efforts with financial and professional benefit while my detractors continued to fight for scraps.

“The Minister is out today; his wife is in Saint Mungo's.”

Audrey’s hand flew up to her mouth, covering her pale face. “Is Elizabeth, okay?”

“I don’t know what exactly is happening,” I took a deep breath, “but the important thing is that we keep this office running and remove the Minister from all of his expected duties and appointments for the day as soon as possible.” I handed out the drafts to Smith and Audrey who took them both quietly. “Now, we have discussed this procedure at length and should get these notes away as soon as possible.”

“I’ll handle the big ones,” Smith said, his eyes moving over the list I enclosed with a couple of the drafts. “That meeting can happen without the Minister.”

“I’ll send the letters to the charity groups; do you think the Minister would reschedule this? The Children’s Dragonscale Association really likes him. The kids in long term care always send their drawings with the charity reports.”

I could not bring myself to say anything other than yes.

Oo0Oo0

February 25, 1996

Audrey fussed with the bouquet of flowers in her arms as she made her way into the office. They were an array of lively spring flowers in pinks, white and yellow, precariously balanced in the crook of her arm that also held her usually collection of take home to review files. Audrey was trusted enough to do that, even if I could not trust her to spell word correctly, I realised it was easier to edit her own high-quality work then do it all myself at such a busy time.

I moved forward to help her with the files, she uttered a hurried thank you as she fumbled with and almost dropped before I caught them in my hands.

Smith whistled as he entered the office, catching sight of the bouquet in Audrey’s arms. “Audie, do you have an admirer you want to tell us about?”

Audrey’s face reddened, covering the apples of her cheeks to the tips of her ears in a vibrant pink. 

She’s free to do as she likes, but if she’s seeing someone here at the Ministry there are files she needs to fill out. 

Not that it’s any of my business what is going on in her personal life.  

“The Minister said Elizabeth would be able to take visitors today. I thought these would be nice to bring her.” She moved towards her desk and conjured a simple, but decorated vase, I admired the artistry of the appearance of hand painted flowers that adorned it as Audrey filled it with water with a quick tap of her wand. Audrey is a talented witch, it’s not overt but she is constantly doing nonverbal magic around the office. I was trying very hard to imitate it, but still caught myself whispering more complex spells in my own work when I was being pulled in a hundred different directions. 

“That’s nice of you, Audrey. Right Percy?” Smith’s voice had a tone to it I could not place and I was unwilling to rise to his bait so early in the morning. 

I nodded in agreement, “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the gesture, Audrey.”

“Thank you. I tried to pick flowers that were in season that I thought she would like. I don’t like hospitals, they’re a bit frightening.”

Understandable. The environment serves a purpose, but it always felt cold and unfriendly in that way.

“I don’t want to overwhelm the women with guests,” Smith started drumming his fingers on the desk as he looked over his calendar. “I’ll go tomorrow, bring her some gardening rag, she’d like that.”

“That’s great idea, Eddie, she’d love that!” Audrey’s chipper tones stirred something inside me. She was never that outwardly bouncy with me...

“I’ll try and go when I can,” the words came out of me quickly, “after Smith goes, too much going on for the Minister.”

I tried to ignore Smith’s amused expression; I was far too taken in by the warmth in Audrey’s eyes and her brilliant smile as she looked at me.   

Oo0Oo0

February 27, 1996

My morning began with a floo call from Dolores Umbridge for the Minister, I overheard Minister Fudge’s exclamations and angered shouting through the door and understood enough of what the topic of the call was. Yesterday there had been word and rumours of Potter sitting an interview – we struggled to find out where and who he had been speaking too and had been putting off requests for comment from various small-time papers while we investigated the matter quietly. Audrey was not very familiar with the local small papers, so asking for her help would have been a lost cause. Fortunately, Madam Umbridge has discovered that Harry Potter had been interviewed by a little sham paper called the Quibbler. I winced, remembering how close to my childhood home that paper was printed. The Lovegoods were an odd pair, both the father and the daughter. I had recollections of the Lovegood girl playing with Ginny for a time before they had left for school. She was a little late on that report, but Madam Umbridge would never waste her time with a silly newspaper like the Quibbler with her morning tea. 

This was soon followed by an array of calls and requests from various newspapers, including the Daily Prophet, which stunned me in the fact they clearly had someone on staff who read Quibbler drivel. One had to suppose that word was out and the interview had been located by the other papers after the whispers  

I glanced up to see Audrey enter the room at the same time she always did – a few minutes before the office morning meeting – the light refracting slightly off her dark hair and stray tendrils framing her face in an almost poetic manner.  

Almost the moment Audrey sat down, the Minister came out of his office, worked into a full head of steam. 

“He interviewed with the Quibbler! The Quibbler!” He did not stop to draw breath, “Why are people taking this seriously?”

“It’s just the conspiracy theorists, Minister,” Smith said with his usual stupid grin, “Remember the supposed Rot Fang Conspiracy?”

I had been redirecting letters mentioning that previous Quibbler article in any capacity to the bin – endeavouring not to remind the Minister of that little bit of public amusement. 

“People have been asking for comment since yesterday,” my hand moved towards my booklets of office. “Do you want to set up a rebuttal with the Prophet?” I pulled out my day planner and reinked my quill, ready for any declaration the Minister would make.

“Yes,” The Minister looked at me with a ferocious expression and I understood this latest transgression of Potter’s would not stand. “Let the Daily Prophet know when I am available and as soon as possible and we’ll get this sorted out. Absolutely ridiculous that I have to dedicate time to this- this farce of a lie. You-Know-Who is not back and Potter will be spending the rest of his life in Saint Mungo’s before the year is out!” Minister Fudge paused to collect himself. “If I see a copy of the Quibbler in this office or any other part of the Ministry, make sure the offenders are looking for new positions before the end of the day!”

I glanced over at Audrey who was watching the Minister with an unreadable expression as she quietly moved some of her papers on her desk – sliding a thick tome of a book to someplace behind her in-tray. We had never really spoken of the Potter matter, I was sure she thought of him as a deranged, attention-seeking child as all sensible people did.

The Minister’s voice called my attention away from her. “I’ll meet with the Prophet before the day is out Weasley, just tell me when they arrive.”

“Of course, Minister.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment. “I’m leaving early today to visit Elizabeth at Saint Mungo’s.”

Audrey bit her lower lip and fidgeted in her seat slightly – I tried not to think about Audrey visiting Elizabeth in the hospital the other day, she said that she had not been able to go up and visit, but had left the flowers and card. I made a note to myself to go see Elizabeth tomorrow afternoon. It seemed to be the right thing to do. Despite all of my private thoughts on Elizabeth Fudge being a distraction in the office, I did miss our talks. 

Chapter Text

March 7, 1996

I stepped into the office doorway after lunch, I had come back to the office with Audrey due to meeting her outside the lift. I was pulled aside by a fellow from Magical Maintenance to ask about the weather preference for the week, leaving Audrey to go on ahead. I informed the maintenance man that I would send him a memo regarding the weather before the day was out. When I arrived at the door, I was greeted with an unusual sight; the Minister was standing outside his office door watching some stranger talk to Miss Graves. A stranger who was definitely not here with an appointment. I would know, I handled the Minister’s schedule to the dotted i.

A stranger who was hugging Miss Graves!

Who does he think he is?

I ignored the look I was getting from Smith at his desk – I don’t know why he was looking at me, this was clearly some – some sort of blatant sexual harassment happening in the centre of our office! We have all had that training! Why am I the only one seeing this? Audrey is a very capable witch, but she is not hard headed enough to cause a scandal in the Minister’s Office! 

"It's good to see you! Is this where you've been?" The stranger released Audrey and shook her by the shoulders, his smile crooked and manner light. "I knew you had chutzpah, but not the run across the world kind!"

"I got an offer I couldn't refuse!"

He leaned in closer to Audrey to say something quiet in her ear that was for her alone and my teeth ground together.

"It's a good one, Senator. Don't worry."

"Senator? God, kid, I'm not your boss anymore. Elihu’s fine."

This man was in the early stages of middle age, he had very short dark curly hair, wore glasses and was not much taller than Audrey, a woman who was a bit taller than average. A fairly average looking man by every measure. He wore glasses and had couple of lines at the corner of his eyes. The way he spoke was fast paced and confident – even with what I viewed as a slight hunch in his posture as he finally stepped away from Audrey.

Audrey glanced over at me; I realised I was still standing in the office doorway like a lackwit. My stomach churned uncomfortably as her eyes met mine.

They are so friendly. That is the most I’ve ever seen Audrey smile at work. Is she one of those women who likes older men? Like Isla Fontaine from the Department of International Magical Cooperation, her husband was twenty years older than her. I always thought that was weird, what would they have in common? Wizarding society changes very slowly but we do have pockets of culture and interests between generations, but still! 

I stared at the man. He was too friendly. He smiled too much and I thought he was far too comfortable with Audrey – especially for someone who had been her previous supervisor. 

Do all American wizards know each other?

"My speeches on the floor really dropped after you went back to school. Una is a nice girl but she was more suited for research than punchy speech endings."

Audrey laughed quietly, a sound that reminded me of bells for a moment before I came to my senses and took the opportunity to move towards my desk.

"Ah, Weathers," Minister Fudge’s voice cut through the stranger’s chatter and caused my back straighten. "This is my personal assistant, Percy Weasley. He handles my schedule and if you need a meeting with our office or need a name, you can go through him. Percy, this is the new MACUSA diplomat, Elihu Weathers."

I would be professional. This was an important man, a diplomat from a partnered nation despite his poor manners and monopolizing of Miss Graves valuable time.

I shook his offered hand.

“You all have your entire government hidden under the streets of London, right? How do you get fresh air? No, stupid question, London smells almost as bad as New York, I would not call any of that air fresh.”

I almost laughed, but I remembered him hugging Audrey and schooled myself to an expression of neutrality.   

Our conversation quickly moved from casual to political, Weathers had questions about the structure of the British Ministry explaining that while he did have documentation and research from MACUSA, he knew that things on the ground of government could be a little bit different and wanted to ensure his list of Ministry contacts was up to date. I was not in a position to refuse cross referencing that documentation. I was so absorbed in the conversation that I barely noticed Audrey retreating to her own desk. 

I found myself unwillingly beginning to like the man. Weathers had a steady confidence and a quick wit, offering passive insults with withering observations of the failures of government structure in such quick turns that prodded me to answer back to correct his views in a game of tug of war that was sure to have no real winner until one of us admitted defeat.

“Were you actually a Senator? Or is that another shared title for your country?”

“I was a senator, I thought I could do more good than being a lawyer at that point. Tell me how it works here. It's more of a council system, right? How do you all do elections?"
 
“The head of the party gets the job, more party support then an individual personality.”

“Ah, if you want to know more about our elections, I would ask Audrey, she got her original position with me through an excellent analysis of the system and its flaws.”

I filed that away for later. 

The Minister stepped forward to join us, “I hate to interrupt, but I believe I have some people to introduce you too, Representative. Short meeting, won’t keep you long. Weasley, take some notes for the man.”

“Yes, of course!” I prepared my travel quills and parchment as Audrey and Smith moved to their desks, Audrey shuffling a few papers around and checking her own schedule.

That short meeting became a two-hour affair, Weathers was a figure of curiosity and seemed to thrive in that sort of situation. He learned the names of those who would be his usual contacts at the Ministry, their families, asked questions about Hogwarts and Dumbledore. I would admit to finding Weathers charming, engaging and intelligent beneath his clear propensity for mischief – the Minister seemed to share this opinion.

The Minister and I returned Weathers to the Minister’s Office to give him some books the Minister had been holding for him. While we were there, Weathers had the gall to ask Audrey to join him for coffee to catch up on MACUSA affairs. Audrey was quick to agree to the offer.

I had no retort other than to glare at Weathers back as he departed the office. 

When I told Oliver about Elihu Weathers over drinks, he just looked at me and shook his head before asking if I was jealous. Of all things to accuse me of! No. No, I am not jealous! 

Ridiculous!

I was not jealous. In no way could I be jealous of a man who clearly had some kind of relationship with my office’s administrative assistant.

I could ignore how her eyes had lit up at the sight of him.

If she likes strange older men, with established careers, that was not my business.

Oo0Oo0

March 12, 1996

Visiting Mrs. Fudge had been an effort, the Dragon Pox that had afflicted her was a stronger strain, it has been isolated, so she was officially no longer contagious, but her survival was in question. The Minister had told me as much so I could better arrange his calendar and choose the work that he could best do at home. 

“You’ll understand someday, Weasley.” The Minister said to me as he came into the office after most of the Ministry had left for the day. “The threat of losing the love of your life before you’re ready is beyond description.”

I fussed with the flowers in my hands as I stepped into the Saint Mungo’s waiting room while thinking over the Minister’s words.

Had I ever been in love, or was my time with Penny an intense infatuation? It hurt when she left, but I picked myself up and focused on my career. I missed our friendship and the companionship of it all, I think those were the parts I missed most of the whole affair. Romance does not last on lust alone... but I really missed the excitement of it all. No. I am not lonely. I am fine. I have not been eating breakfast for dinner three times a week because it's easy to cook.

I was not sure I ever would marry, I wanted too. I was sure I wanted children. All of that were the hallmarks of a successful life. Those would be the outward markers of my success, a display of achievement to be seen and not hidden away in a Gringott’s vault. I had time, I was not quite twenty yet, but still... I had ideas about the kind of woman I might like to marry. Kind, encouraging, intelligent, understanding of my work obligations as I moved up in the Ministry. That was really as far as I had gotten on the matter, just the bare minimum requirements of being a decent, sensible, person.

With regards to looks, I have always been partial to women with thick pretty hair. Sometimes blonde can wash people out, but Penn- move away from that! Tall! Tall enough I do not have to fold myself in half to kiss her. That would be nice. I never understood these men who dated women half their size, well, that Dutch diplomat did not have much of a choice, I had to look up at him and that was different. When considering that, Audrey really was the perfect- move away from that Weasley! 

My thoughts came back to the waiting room when a giggling child floated past my head, a result of uncontrolled magic no doubt. Her father looked beside himself. I stepped to the counter.

“I’m here to see Elizabeth Fudge.” I slid a permission card from the Minister to the secretary at the registration window.

She quickly gave me the room number and a flurry of directions that I never would have gotten without the permission card. I thanked the lady and after seeing how full the lift was that I was going to take the stairs.

It was a quiet sort of walk up the staircase, no noise, just the kind of peaceful sort of quiet that allowed for restless ghosts to float past me on the stairwell. People who had never really left the hospital – that sounded like a terrible afterlife. 

I took a door that led me to the appropriate floor, quickly appraising the sign listing the numbers for the rooms nearby and found my down the hall. There was a sign outside that stated ‘Visitor’s Welcome – Please knock.’

I did as instructed and a voice inside welcomed me.

Elizabeth Fudge was propped up in bed, her head resting on three pillows and a book at her side. There was very little colour to her face, but I could see the scales on her hands and a few on her neck, indicating the Dragon Pox disease. I felt my own skin itch at the memory of having it as a young child. I remembered being laid up in bed with the twins causing a fuss nearby on the floor. Mum decided it was easier to make sure her children all got the illness together and orchestrated me to be her source of the illness. I had missed Charlie and Bill’s bout with it.

Getting it as a young child meant we would not catch it as adults, which was more likely to kill even the most gifted of wizards.

As outwardly convinced as Audrey was of Mrs. Fudge’s recovery, I was far less convinced of the matter, but had bit my tongue against Audrey’s apparent optimism. 

“Oh, Percy,” Elizabeth’s smile lit up her face and I forgot about the scales for a time. “I’m so happy to see you. Cornelius left a couple of hours ago I’m afraid.”

“No,” I fumbled with the flowers I was holding, noting the three separate vases of them. One I recognized as Audrey’s spellwork. “I’m here to visit.”

“Wonderful! Come in, have a seat.” She motioned towards a chair next to her bed. Elizabeth had a private room, partially for her condition and partially because of her standing as the Minister of Magic’s wife. “I’m so happy that I’ve been cleared for visitation, the staff has been lovely but it’s so nice to see friends. Oh, those flowers are lovely! Thank you! Please them over there with the others, I’m going to go through a press a few of the nice ones for posterity.”

I did as I was bid before sitting down in the offered chair.

Elizabeth shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable as she looked at me. “I’m very happy to see you.”

“Are you feeling any better?” I tried not to look to closely at the scales forming along her face at her hairline, brown mostly, some catching the light of the room to reflect a pale, sickly green. My eyes followed the trail of them until they disappeared under her hospital gown. I was sure they now covered her chest, which was not a good sign.  

Elizabeth flew past my inquiry by pushing a book of flower meanings into my hands. “Cornelius bought that for me, amazing what a person can create with watercolours these days. I wish I had that sort of talent, a bit romantic to be hold up in a room to paint. I just putter around my greenhouse growing apothecary plants.”

“I’m not creative in any capacity, thought I share your admiration for people who are.”

She waved her hand dismissively, “Understanding political bureaucracy is its own artform, you can make a lot of people very miserable with time consuming nonsense once you know how. Believe me, I know.” She coughed, a nasty rough sound that shook her whole body from the strain of it all. “Sorry... It’s down in my lungs, which is why I am still here.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I hated to have that realisation confirmed for me.

But Elizabeth had never been one to dwell long on topics that did not interest her.

“We wanted a child, Cornelius and I... It was the one thing we wanted in life and could not have. We made our peace of course, we didn’t have any other choice in the matter, and I decided that we could do more good with causes to support children orphaned during the war. Our careers were beginning to take off and it seemed... Well, I did not want a child of ours to feel in second place.”

It was awkward to have people speak to me this way, I was not sure what to say to this... matter that was so adult. In my mind, adulthood was living alone and paying taxes. Working, seeing friends, going to museums on weekends with no other obligations. This was a matter beyond me. 

“Don’t tell Cornelius, but I don’t think I’m going to leave this hospital.”

My breath seemed to stop in my chest. I had never truly grappled with the idea of mortality before, I had when Ginny was stolen by the Heir of Slytherin. I had when Penny was petrified not long before that. But the reality of it, knowing there would be no relief of a rescue or a potion cure, was a different matter that left me feeling cold and numb.

“It’s alright, I’ve had a very good life.” She took my hand and smiled while I tried not to think about what she had just said and focus only on how cold her hand was. She squeezed it quietly and I suddenly felt far more adult in that moment then at any other point in my life thus far. “I like to think if we had managed to have a child, we would have had a son a lot like you. I think you’ve filled some of the hole in what Cornelius and I wanted.”

I... There were very few moments in my life where I was at a loss for words. This was one of them.  

“You’ll look out for Audrey, won’t you? I think she needs a sensible friend.”

What an odd thing to say.

“I assure you that Miss Graves has an abundance of friends.” 

That was quite direct Weasley, she’s in a bloody hospital!

“Let me rephrase.” Elizabeth seemed to ignore my swift almost curtness of my response. “I think she could use more friends her own age, she spends far too much time with Lucinda and I think she needs more young people in her life, much like you do.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You both work too much and need to spend more time with people your own age. It’s good for you – because you carry yourself like middle-aged man.”

“Audrey acts her age.”

“No, she comports herself like she’s a decade older than she is, she’s just a bit awkward.”

I found her oddly graceful, but Elizabeth had just accused me of being middle-aged so I was not sure about the legitimacy of her perceptions.

All I could do in response was smile, “I will do what I can to look after her.”

“Such a darling boy.”    

Oo0Oo0

March 22, 1996

The funeral for Elizabeth Fudge was a quiet, sombre affair. Audrey had been quietly crying on and off in the breakroom for a couple of days, I caught her doing so once at the desk – I brought her a glass of water and some tissues, it was the gentlemanly thing to do. In truth, I was not sure what else to do – we all knew it was going to be a long day at the office.

I greeted the Minister at the entrance, shaking his hand and asking if there was anything he needed from me. He just shook his head and told me I was a guest and everything was handled.  

This was not going to be a governmental affair, Mrs. Fudge was a private citizen, but I had taken care with my hair and dress robes, trying to ignore the memories of the Minister’s wife fixing my tie before the small gatherings the Minister enjoyed with his supporters. Elizabeth tended to slip away from those before the offer to join her husband was made. She had her friends and business partners who often had ways into the Fudges social events. 

The funeral itself was unusually large, granted, the last funeral I had been too was for my uncles, Gideon and Fabian. A double funeral as they entered the world together and left it together. It seemed appropriate for a pair of twins somehow. I remembered my mother getting word of their deaths as Aurors, the way she screamed and collapsed at the front door was soul shattering, a kind of raw terror that could not be explained logically. Mums are not supposed to make that sort of noise. 

I had vague memories of my mum’s brothers. Both very competent wizards and terribly brave men, it took five Death Eaters to kill them. I knew no part of that life; I knew they always brought fun gifts for their numerous nephews. 

In front of me now was an array of people I did not know and a small collection of Ministry officials. I moved closer to them as I recognised a few of them.

“Ah, Weasley!” An older man boomed as he put his hand on my shoulder with enough unintentional force to cause me to stagger. “Good to see you out of the office, wish the circumstances were better.”

“Hi Mr.-“

“No, you’re grown now, Antony is fine.”

Antony Knowles was a large man, stocky and round cheeked with a booming voice and head of grey hair that be laid the fact he was closer to middle-age then retirement, much to his usually complaints. I knew him from International Magical Cooperation, he was the new second in command of the office and sent me a kind note during my enquiry.  

“It’s hard to call a funeral lovely, but this one might qualify.”

I nodded in agreement, there was an array of colourful drapes from the ceiling and several flowers of various types and colours throughout the room, perched on the ends of chairs, in vases around the coffin in the centre of the room. Despite the grimness of the occasion, this was almost an effort to try and forget this was a funeral. 

“I should find my wife; she was going to find us a couple of seats.” He disappeared into the moving crowd and I found myself sucked into it as well as the crowd shifted and moved. I caught a glimpse of a familiar head of black hair in one of the rows near the front and managed to break away for the empty seat next to someone I knew.

“Is anyone sitting here?” My voice was almost too loud for my own hearing, even if I knew I was somewhere over a whisper and what my mother called an inside voice. 

I fixed the black tie at my neck trying not to look to closely at Audrey. Her own black funeral attire and black hair made her look more crow-like then usual.

“No, go right ahead.” She motioned to the empty chair beside her and glanced back at the elderly woman at her other side. “Auntie, this is Percy Weasley, one of my co-workers. Percy, this is my great-aunt, Lucinda Ainsley.”

Lucinda stayed seated and reached her hand towards me, I noted the wrinkled, fragile look of her hands and the sharp, piercing look in her pointed expression. She was thin-faced and hard-eyed. Her hair was a stark grey and she looked at me like an animal stalking its prey as her glasses slid down her nose while we exchanged the polite niceties while she wore the sort of judgmental expression I had long associated with Aunt Muriel. From what Audrey had mentioned at work, Lucinda was the owner of an old family house that took part in more than a few social causes. The sort of busybody my mother had always spoke of and the kind of woman who looked down on my family. I knew the dressing down stare I had received from her very well.

But I was not going to be judged as yet another Weasley. I was going to be the family success story.

We shook hands and it was almost a relief to release myself from her tight, business efficient grip and turn my attentions back to Audrey as I took the empty seat beside her. I watched Lucinda give Audrey a hard stare, Lucinda seemed to forget how to blink, but it was the same look my mother would give the twins when she could not yell at them for some offense. Audrey seemed to understand this silent communication and was unbothered by it, offering only a shrug in response.

The unintentional benefit of annoying a sour old woman with my presence was the one bit of amusement I was getting today. It seemed the sort of thing Elizabeth would have appreciated.

Then the service started and I was surprised to hear a sniffle beside me, well, I should have been less surprised, Audrey had been a mess- no that was the stern looking old woman. Oh, now Audrey’s starting-! Oh! Where is my handkerchief? I pulled it out my pocket and slipped it into Audrey’s hand, trying not to think about how warm the brush of her skin was against mine.

Chapter Text

April 1, 1996

“She’s hugging some American Auror in the middle of the hallway by the Minister’s Office, what was I supposed to think?”

The Auror was close in age to Audrey and I, tall and in uniform and hit every description of what I understood women to like in my limited view of the matter. That vague edge of danger from an exciting career and a singular... earring. Implying a degree of rebellion or a lack of protocols from the division he served. 

“Then he kissed her on the cheek before flouncing off after Weathers! I’m a civil person, her personal life is not my business but we have rules about public fraternising, which I mentioned after seeing this.” The next words tasted like ash and shame in my mouth. “It turns out that MACUSA Auror was her cousin, and I basically just accused her of incest.”

Oliver was howling in laughter on the sofa, by Merlin he was wheezing! 

How was this funny? I’ve insulted Audrey! She’ll never speak to me again. Probably just go back to America to avoid the embarrassment the same way I wanted to crawl under my desk for the rest of the day. 

Honestly, there would be less of these intercultural miscommunications if Americans were not so affectionate and friendly. Mr. Crouch called them the Labradors of international relations and that assessment seemed more accurate by the day. Well, Audrey would never kiss someone in public. Her cousin seemed to be a trouble making sort in the vein of the twins! Really, who would do that to their cousin? What was I supposed to think!

“You put your foot in your mouth once again, Perce! Excellent job!”

“That’s not the point!”

“That’s exactly the point. I’m surprised women aren’t lining up to date you!”

There was never a line for any of that. I blamed my being ginger for some of it. There was a period where I tried to charm my hair brown so I could claim to not be related to the twins, maybe look more my own image of professional, but if it was possible to look discoloured then I managed it entirely and made my peace with being distinctly Weasley and my horrific resemblance to my father.

“They look nothing alike!” Auror Laurent was tall like Audrey but his skin was dark and his hair was in tight braids. He had a look of trouble and mischief about him that Audrey never had in my months of knowing her. She was restrained where her cousin was clearly a gregarious, mannerless, personality. Though, there was something in the way their mouths moved that was eerily similar, a shared sort of crookedness and expression when Audrey was being wry and dry humoured.

Americans. They’re all insane.

Oliver took another drink of butterbeer before giving me a look. 

“Maybe you should ask her out.”

I froze – a sort of cold dread moving through my limbs. 

“No! We have rules about interoffice fraternisation! We would both lose our jobs!” I tried not to think about these images swarming through my mind. Audrey’s hand in mine at a nice restaurant, I was paying of course, I wanted her to know I could take care of her that way with the added benefit of being a gentleman about the matter. I was proving to myself that I had made it in life. Audrey’s face moving closer to mine as she stood on the tips of her toes while I bent down slightly to meet her halfway. I had kissed girls before but a part of me knew that Audrey was (could!) be a different matter and experience entirely, purely based on everything we had to lose through the act.

“I thought you said she doesn’t answer to you and reports to the Senior Undersecretary and the Minister as needed?”

“Yes, but-“

“Really, Perce, you like the girl, maybe you should do something about it or try to start dating again.”

Maybe Oliver had a point, but I was not sure if I was ready to let go of this grip my mind had on Miss Graves.

Oliver left my flat an hour later, he was meeting his team for drinks at a pub not too far away. I had been invited to go with him, but I was worn out from a socially stressful day and was sure I would put my foot in my mouth the next time I spoke to any witch for the next several hours. I needed a night to fully soak in my shame regarding Miss Graves and her relations.

I promised Oliver to go next time and he seemed agreeable to the idea – almost like getting me out to socialise was going to be his only side project that was not Quidditch. 

It was nice to have a flat to myself, a bit of my own space in the world but there was something lonely in it. As much as I disliked the noise and general ruckus of the Burrow, it was always nice to know where other people were knocking about. I found my way to the kitchen where I had stowed a couple tins of biscuits to go with my evening tea and forced myself to think of other things. I would be proven correct in the matter of Potter’s madness and, while I would never return home like a child, I would at last be treated as an adult. Respected. Welcomed. Not harassed or buried in the chaos of a house that had too many mouths to feed.

I popped open the tin and took a small bite of the shortbread inside. I also no longer had to hide my preferred confectionaries. Living alone was worth that much peace of mind.

There was a great noise from the fireplace, almost causing me to choke on my biscuit. 

“Weasley!” The Minister’s voice boomed from the fireplace and my feet slid on the floor tiles of my kitchen floor as I flew to the living room to answer the call.

“Yes, Minister?”

Minister Fudge’s face was alight with joy, I had not seen anything close to that expression since the death of Elizabeth. 

“We’re going to Hogwarts! Immediately! Umbridge has cracked it!”

There was a sudden surge of excitement flowing through me. “I’ll meet you at the Ministry!”

“No need Weasley! We’ve connected your floo to the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, we’ll talk more there.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes!”

I could not recall I time when I had dressed for work so quickly, I gathered my self-inking quills and parchment from my office, stowing them in my pocket. Leaping into the floo network afterwards by expanding the size of my fireplace only took the time I needed to blink.

“Hogwarts School! Headmaster’s Office!”

I managed not to tumble out onto the floor, only managing a slight stagger out onto the carpet into the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts, almost knocking the Minister to the floor in the process. 

“Merlin’s sake, Weasley!”

“Apologies Minister.” I looked around the room and looked for a place to be for whatever was going to happen tonight.  

I had been in here a couple of time for Head Boy matters related to Sirius Black and school safety. It was still cluttered with portraits, who were far more active than I had ever seen them before. Dumbledore was at this desk, smiling in his unbothered matter while Professor McGonagall stood beside him and glared down at me with a perceptible disappointment and scorn in her eyes. I met her eyes as I moved towards the wall.

Yes, I was on the right side of history. I was not so blinded by Dumbledore’s airs that I could not see him for who he really was.  

There were two Aurors already present with the Minister, I recognised one as Kingsley Shacklebolt, a mid-career Auror with a good reputation. He had been put in charge of hunting down Sirius Black and was very astute in chasing down all of the leads that crossed his desk in this task. The second Auror was John Dawlish, an Auror with a reportedly excellent reputation as a tracker and duellist.    

The Minister rocked back and forth from heel to toe near the fireplace while the two Aurors moved towards the door to the office to stand at attention while the portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses moved and shuffled about, whispering to one another. I knew my role in this – I shifted closer to the wall, a quill and parchment in hand, knowing that history would be made in my presence and I could barely contain the excitement of it all. 

Dolores Umbridge came into the room hauling Harry Potter into the office – he yanked himself from her grasp as the door closed behind them. The force with which Potter removed himself from Umbridge would have faltered a slighter, less stubborn woman. Potter always had a temper.

“Well,” Minister Fudge was elated, it was all in the tone of his voice and I did not have to see his face to confirm it. “Well, well, well...”

The sharp, disgusted look that Potter gave the Minister almost made me open my mouth to tell him off, but that was not my place in this.

“He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower,” Umbridge swelled with pride at the success of her capture, the results of her planning for the evening coming to fruition. “The Malfoy boy cornered him.”

I was sure the well-known schoolboy rivalry between Potter and Malfoy played no part in that.

“Did he, did he?” Fudge’s appreciative tones overlapped my scratching quill on the parchment notes I was taking. “I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter... I expect you know why you are here?”

He should. He always did. 

Potter’s mouth was open, as if to speak defiance. “Yeh – no.”

What?

“I beg your pardon?” 

“No.”

“You don’t know why you are here?”

“No, I don’t.”

Fudge was looking between Potter and Umbridge, something incredulous in the gesture. Umbridge was staring at Potter with such abhorrence that I was surprised Potter did not burst into flames. Dawlish and Shacklebolt looked inexpressive and the pair shifted slightly in opposite directions  

“So, you have no idea,” The Minister’s voice dripped with discernible sarcasm, “why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?”

He’s aware – almost gets expelled every year.

“School rules?” Potter’s voice was bland – almost mocking to anyone who knew him and his mad nature. “No.”

“Or Ministry decrees?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Potter’s bland, neutral expression was the true mockery. He knew and spoke lies like he always had. Every wild story, every insane event of his life had a tendency to almost kill one of my siblings. The boy was deranged, dangerous and needed to be handled.

The Minister’s blood pressure was rising visibly, a heated red was creeping up his neck over the collar of his robes.

“It’s news to you it,” The Minister’s anger was a controlled, but clear force, “that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?”

“Yes, it is.” Potter’s feigned look of surprise turned my stomach as I continued to write notes.

Umbridge spoke next in her sweet auntie tones, “I think, Minister, we might make better progress if I fetch our informant.”

The Minister agreed heartily, glancing at Dumbledore with an expression of triumph. “Nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?”

“Nothing at all, Cornelius.” Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, a feign at civility in the circumstances of being caught in the affairs of his favourite mad student.

There were several minutes that passed in silence as I caught up my notations and made the slight corrective edits required of something that could potentially be perused by the Ministry for years to come depending on how the night went. The portraits rustled in their frames, on baited breath to see what would happen next.

The door opened again to reveal Umbridge leading a girl into the office who had a head of long curly hair who was hiding her face in her hands. Unusual, but embarrassment and high emotions were very common in the youth.

“Don’t be scared, dear, don’t be frightened,” Umbridge led the girl further into the room, putt her hand on her back in a warm, maternal matter as her voice lowered to something soft and encouraging. “It’s quite all right now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. He’ll be telling your mother what a good girl you’ve been. Marietta’s mother, Minister,” she looked at the Minister, “is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation. Floo Network Office – she’s been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know.”

Ah, Madam Edgecombe was a woman of sterling reputation in the Ministry. Devoted to her duties and knowledgeable about various matters related to floo powder construction and storage. She wrote a few degrees of policy to safe mass storage of floo powder, which I read the summer after I completed my O.W.L.s and found very educational. Befitting that the daughter had turned out so much like her mother in devotion to Ministry causes.  

“Jolly good, jolly good!” Minister Fudge’s voice was hearty and energetic. “Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well come on, now, dear, look up, don’t be shy, let’s hear what you’ve got to – galloping gargoyles!” The Minister leapt back as Marietta raised her head, his cloak catching the flame and beginning to smoke. Fudge cursed and stamped out the flames as Marietta gave a distressed wail and pulled the neck of her robes up to her eyes to hide her disfigured face where purple pustules had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word ‘SNEAK’.

Merlin’s pants! That was an obscene thing to do to someone!

Umbridge tried to comfort Marietta into speaking further, but the girl was too distressed and wailing in distress to cooperate any further. 

“Oh, very well, you silly girl, I’ll tell him!” Umbridge snapped and began to relay the tale Marietta had given in her office after dinner, her smile returned to her face as she began. A tale about a secret room on the seventh floor of the castle called the Room of Requirement where there was to be a meeting. Then the curse on Marietta had kicked in and the girl was unable to continue due to the distress. 

The Minister’s response to this was compassionate and fatherly, “It is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge, you did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?”

I re-inked my quill, knowing this would be very important, very damaging if the Edgecombe girl’s face was anything to go by as the girl shook her head, her eyes wide in fright.

“Haven’t we got a counterjinx for this?” The Minister’s tone of exasperation matched my own thoughts on the matter. “So she can speak freely?”

Professor Umbridge answered in the negative, stating that she was able to take up the story from there in any case. She began by mentioning a report she had sent to the Minister in October regarding Potter and a group of students meeting in the Hogs Head pub – belaying the interruption from McGonagall demanding evidence of such a meeting, Umbridge clarified the report she received came from one Willy Widdershins, who had seen the whole affair. 

“Oh, so that’s why he wasn’t prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!” McGonagall raised an eyebrow in the way I was long familiar with as one of her students. “What an interesting insight into our justice system!”

“Blatant corruption!” A portrait behind Dumbledore’s desk roared, enraged and red nosed from it. “The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!”

I did not believe crime should be forgotten in deals – rules existed for a reason, but... This was the Minister and a bigger threat from Dumbledore himself surely could be an exception for such a thing. But under that, would we be overrun with petty criminals who were quick to sell information to avoid time in Azkaban? What happens to society under those conditions?

Umbridge continued, capturing my attention before I could think any further on the matter. She stated the purpose of this October meeting was to persuade students to join an illegal society, persuading students to learn spells that the Ministry had deemed inappropriate for school-aged wizards – 

Dumbledore cut in; his tone amiable as he peered over the rims of his glasses. “I think you’ll find you’re quite wrong there Dolores.”

“Oho!” Minister Fudge was bouncing on the balls of his feet in a barely restrained excitement as the matter of Potter’s crimes seemed to grow and clarify. “Yes, do let’s hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on – Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter’s identical twin in the Hog’s Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life, and a couple of invisible dementors?”

I laughed, “Oh, very good Minister, very good!”

Dumbledore continued, his tone quiet and a smile of all things on his face. Potter was finished! Why did he appear so calm?

“Cornelius, I do deny – and nor, I am sure, does Harry – that he was in the Hog’s Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry’s Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at the Hogs Head after all.”

It was like being hit by a bludger. 

Professor Umbridge spoke next and I resumed scratching my quill against the parchment, pressing on with my notes and shorthand.

“That’s all very fine, Headmaster, but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since then most certainly are.”

An excellent point! Six months of meetings make the loss of that first one irrelevant, Potter knew what he was doing! He always did!

Dumbledore looked at Umbridge over his interlocked fingers, “Well, they certainly would be, if they had continued after the decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that these meetings continued?”

“Evidence? Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?”

A valid point, one meeting usually leads to more meetings in fairly rapid succession or a regular basis. It was very unlikely there had not been any other meetings over the last six months.

Umbridge seemed to agree with my line of thought, her attempts to encourage the Edgecombe girl to speak of any meetings from the past six months, but she was refusing to speak, merely continuing to shake her head and keep the neck of her robes pulled upward to cover her nose, leaving only her eyes exposed. 

“What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?” Umbridge’s voice was growing impatient with Marietta’s games.

“I would have thought her meaning was quite clear,” McGonagall’s voice cut through the room. “There have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?”

The girl nodded.

“But there was a meeting tonight!” Umbridge seemed to swell as her tone grew more furious and tightly controlled. “There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter who organised it, Potter – why are you shaking your head girl?”

“Well,” McGonagall’s voice was frigid, “usually when a person shakes their head they mean ‘no.’ So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans-“

There was a sudden movement from Umbridge. She seized Marietta so quickly I had barely register it, and began to shake her roughly by the shoulders, the girl’s head moving back and forth from the suddenness of it. It sent a cold dread through me to see such a thing and my hands shook at the sudden turn to physical violence this had taken. 

Dumbledore was on his feet, coming down from his desk as quickly as the violence against Marietta had begun, I caught a glimpse of Shacklebolt moving forward from his position at the door. McGonagall’s hand was resting on her wand. These actions caused Umbridge to quickly release the girl, moving away from her as if she had been revealed to have a terrible disease. I glanced over at the Minister who looked impassive at this turn of events. 

“I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores.” Dumbledore looked truly angry in that moment, something I had never seen from him before as he moved to stand beside Marietta to ensure she was protected from further abuse, his grip on his wand loose and confident.

“You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,” the deep slow voice of Shacklebolt followed Dumbledore’s declaration with a measured sense of control over the situation at hand. “You don’t want to get yourself into trouble now.”

I had not noticed my hand going for my wand until my hand came off the handle and returned to the quill I had left floating beside me.

“Dolores,” the Minister spoke, his voice quiet as he tried to get this matter back on topic, “the meeting tonight – the one we know definitely happened –“

“Yes. Yes...” Umbridge continued her tale of receiving notice from Miss Edgecombe and gathering a group of trustworthy students to go to the seventh floor to ambush the meeting, but those in attendance had warning due to the fact all of them were running in several different directions. That Miss Pansy Parkinson had gone into the room and retrieved something interesting. A member list, which Umbridge pulled from her pocket and gave to the Minister as I leaned closer for a better look.

“Excellent, Dolores. And... by thunder...” Fudge looked up at Dumbledore, “See what they’ve named themselves? Dumbledore’s Army.”

My quill had never moved so fast before, I could tell by the structure of my letters it was growing dull and I quickly switched it out for my sharpened spare. We got him! We got him for something absolutely insane!

Dumbledore took the paper from Minister Fudge; he was quiet for a moment before turning his gaze from the parchment with a smile. “Well, the game is up. Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius – or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?”

Was he confessing? By Merlin’s wand!

“Statement?” The Minister’s words were pulled slowly from his mouth, “What – I don’t –?”

My quill was moving faster and there were ink splatters on the edges of the parchment but I was moving too quickly to care. 

“Dumbledore’s Army, Cornelius,” Dumbledore continued to smile as he waved the parchment before the Minister’s eyes as if amusing a child with a bauble. “Not Potter’s Army. Dumbledore’s Army.”

Fudge was so taken aback by the good fortune of this confession he took a second step back into the fireplace, yelping as the heat of the flames caught his cloak once more. 

“You?” The Minister’s voice was a whisper as he stamped out the fire on his cloak, bringing it to smoke and smoulder.

“That’s right,” Dumbledore continued to smile.

“You organised this?”

“I did.”

“You recruited these students for – for your army?”

My hand was shaking as I continued to take notes, they were still legible, but I knew the quality would embarrass me later.

“Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting. Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course.”

Marietta nodded in response; a bit unusual but I was not going to give that more thought. Perhaps the spell addled her brain a bit.

The Minister seemed to grow larger, a smile growing on his face as the full realisation of this confession came upon him and the rest of the stunned spectators.

“Then you have been plotting against me!” The Minister’s voice had more energy than I had heard from him in weeks. The speed of my notes had sent droplets of ink onto my face, but I could not stop. This was important. Historic!  

“That’s right,” Dumbledore continued to smile, his tone cheerful as if the confession was merely a walk through the park.

“NO!” Potter’s voice cut through the room. “No – Professor Dumbledore!”

“Be quiet Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice still held a calm serenity to it, “or I am afraid you will have to leave the office.”

“Yes, shut up, Potter!” The Minister barked as he stared at Dumbledore with a sort of fascination, I found hard to describe. It was like all of the holidays had come at once. “Well, well, well – I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead –“

“Instead, you get to arrest me. It’s like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn’t it?”

“Weasley!” I straightened at the call to attention. “Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he’s said, his confession, have you got it?”

“Yes, sir, I think so sir!” My voice was shaking in excitement as I did some small corrective shorthand to my notes.

“The bit about how he’s been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he’s been working to destabilise me?”

“Yes, sir, I’ve got it, yes!” One more slight correction of grammar here and it was still legible.

“Very well, then.” The Minister was shaking in glee. “Duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl, we should make the morning edition!”

I did not need to be given further instruction. I flew out of Dumbledore’s office, my notations in hand as I moved down the stairs two at a time to make my way to the owlery to use one of the school birds. Once I was on flat ground I moved into a run through familiar corridors and past paintings that did not recognise me at all, I did not care to miss more than I had to of Dumbledore’s fall from grace.

This was it! I was holding history in my hands and every person who ever doubted me was going to regret it. I was right about Dumbledore! I was right about this school being dangerous and no one listened. Well, who was wrong now? The apologies would pour in. My career would be secured and I would never have to worry about living my father’s life ever again! 

The doors opened out to the grounds and I barely felt winded, my feet were moving off pure adrenaline and the stitch in my side disappeared from my mind as I resolved to ignore it. All of those morning runs with Oliver had been very good for me. The path to the owlery was barely lit, students were not allowed out this late so I had a clear path towards the tower. I had walked this route enough to know it like the back of my hand even after two years away.

Once I arrived at the stairs to the Owlery, I slowed my pace to take the stairs somewhere between a walk and a jog. It was a beautiful night, but I was too full of purpose to truly take it in. I wondered if that school Great Horned owl was in residence, she was much faster than her contemporaries and prone to pecking Hermes when they were both attending the Gryffindor table. I had half forgotten how many stairs there were to the owlery, but thanks to my morning runs with Oliver, I managed not to lose my breath. It was like I had never left Hogwarts that way.

I reached the top of the stairs and swung open the door, acknowledging that due to the time of day, many of the owls would be out hunting. There was a chorus of hoots and clicking beaks as I entered. Harry Potter’s distinct snowy owl, Hedwig was watching me with fluffed feathers and a judgmental expression. I passed my gaze over her looking for a faster bird to go to a Prophet outpost in Scotland, many of the perches were empty and my gaze found the Great Horned owl I was looking for, her ankle wearing the Hogwarts crest on her ankle. She looked at me and held out her leg after seeing the letter in my hands.

“Just a moment,” I said quickly as I put a sealing charm on the paper and moved to a nearby wall to write better and not end up sitting in owl droppings (I could not wait to get my own assistant to make them to this sort of work) – I embossed the paper with the seal of the Minister of Magic’s Office with a quick spell, before pulling out my quill and addressing it. 

ATTN: Daily Prophet – Scotland Outpost - Hogsmeade
For the Morning Edition front page by decree of the Minister of Magic
 

That would do nicely!

I found a rod of twine in the usual location for student use and tied it to the ankle of the Great Horned owl. “Take this to the Daily Prophet Scotland Outpost immediately. Stay until they read it.”

The owl hooted in acknowledgement before flapping her great wings and departing the tower. I watched her go for a moment, she did a quick loop around the tower to catch a draft and rode it towards Hogsmeade. The Daily Prophet had their own means of communication between their offices, this would make the morning edition across Britain. 

Yes! This had been a very good night. I would return to the office and give the good news to the Minister, perhaps even see Dumbledore on a walk of shame through the school on my return. It seemed fitting for all of his lies.

What I found in Headmaster’s Office upon my return was a scene of chaos.

Dumbledore and his phoenix were missing, McGonagall appeared to have left the office with Potter and the Edgecombe girl. The only people remaining in the office were Madam Umbridge, Minister Fudge and the Aurors. The portraits were mocking the Minister, hooting and hollering in a triumph of some sort.

“Did you get him, Minister?” I asked, genuinely confused at the sight before me that spoke of disarray.

The Minister gave me no answer, turning on his heel with a swish of his cloak and looking at Madam Umbridge. Shacklebolt shook his head solemnly in response to my query – the only one who seemed to hear it in the madness of the room. 

“You’re in charge here, Dolores, as discussed.”

The portraits grew louder in protest.

“Oh, Minister,” Madam Umbridge giggled, a sort of girlish modesty in her expression as she looked up at him. “There are protocols for this sort of thing.”

“You’re right, but McGonagall is clearly loyal to Dumbledore and cannot be trusted.” The room itself seemed to shake with the protest of every item in the room. The Minister, rightfully, ignored it. “This school needs a fresh start away from Dumbledore’s influence, brought back into line with regards to loyalty to the Magical World, not some deluded old crackpot! You will not be the first Headmistress appointed to Hogwarts by the Ministry and I daresay you won’t be the last!”

“Oh, Minister, if you are sure, how can I say no? But it’s been such an eventful night, could I have the night to think about it.”

“Of course, but know that there is not one person I find more qualified for the position then yourself.”

We left the Head’s Office via floo, some parties more battered and frazzled then others, but all filled with a blazing determination to find and end the threat of Albus Dumbledore once and for all.

Oo0Oo0

April 2, 1996

I was not sure I had gotten a wink of sleep the previous night; I knew I had dozed off when the adrenaline of the night. I had a vague memory of waking at my desk, but not feeling rested from the experience, there was an understanding that I needed to get to work and see how the rest of this matter played out. Dumbledore was a dangerous wizard, more so for being deranged in his thinking to overthrow the Minister of Magic. 

Changing into a fresh pair of clothes and going to my apparition point down the street was a small matter. I appeared suddenly outside one of the Ministry staff entrances, well in an alleyway next to the tube station that I would have to descend into to find the appropriate supply closet. It was an intricate system, I preferred this entrance because it was easy to slip away to the Ministry entrance, the others I had tried we too complexly routed to use on a regular basis. I could use a floo connection, but I liked the morning walk if I did not have the time to have a run that morning.

The door closed behind me and the lights revealed a trail of lights that led downstairs where I could see a few robed figures moving downstairs ahead of me. The door at the bottom of the stairs opened to the Atrium where there was a faint collection of early morning noise. I could hear the hawking of the Daily Prophet. I slipped the man selling the paper a couple of sickles and tried to contain my glee at seeing the previous night’s events in print.

Yes. It was going to be a fantastic day!

I tucked the paper under my arm and made my way up to the Minister’s office. I had given myself enough time to read the paper before everyone else arrived.

I wondered what Audrey would think of this whole affair? Surely, she would agree that Dumbledore was dangerous after reading this – she was always carefully neutral in her politics, I had no recollection of her stating anything firmly on either side of the political fence. Well, I knew what her opinions were in any case – she worked for the Minister after all. 

Upon arriving at the Minister’s office, I made myself comfortable and organized a few things the Minister would need before settling in to read the headlines of the Daily Prophet, I had witnessed the event, but it was validating to read the whole affair in print. Smith came into the office holding his own copy of the paper, he barely acknowledged me due to being so absorbed in the headline story.

Then a couple of memos flew to my desk, labelled with the seals of the Canadian Embassy and MACUSA. I had permission to open these, sometimes these were utter nonsense, Weathers was especially prone to sending clips of the New York Ghost to the Minister along with invitations for... coffee. Clearly if I truly had Ministerial ambitions, I would have to learn to enjoy coffee, I was not sure Americans had the capacity to enjoy tea unless it was... iced. Audrey told me that horrible fact last week and it haunted me like a spectre. Terrible!

The notes were related to the request the Minister had sent last night regarding Dumbledore; I would mention the arrival of these responses in the meeting. 

Audrey followed a few minutes later, holding a coffee in her travel mug and moving slowly towards her desk – still looking half asleep. I scrambled to my feet as the Minister stormed into the office, fully ending the peace of the morning. Audrey had not quite made it to her desk, but was able to set down her mug. I doubted she had read the paper this morning and moved a bit closer to her with my own copy under my arm. I wanted to see her expression when she comprehended what had happened in the last twelve hours. Before I could wish her a ‘Good morning!’ and a ‘Have you seen the headlines?’ there was a loud crashing noise from the office door.

"Unbelievable! Where is he hiding?" The Minister demanded as Shacklebolt and Dawlish came into the main staff office holding papers and charts, Shacklebolt with a map that had various marks of his own research on the likely whereabouts of Dumbledore and a list of known associates.

Audrey seemed a bit confused about the presence of Aurors in our morning office meeting. I handed her the copy of the Daily Prophet I had picked up in the Atrium on my way in – I was sure the fellow had sold out by the time Audrey had arrived. I watched her read the headline with widening eyes.

Dumbledore Confesses to Child Army

I leaned down closer to her to get her up to speed on recent events, excited to be the source of information on some world changing event for once. I could not help but smile.

"He confessed to everything," I kept my voice quiet as Audrey stared straight ahead, watching Fudge and Dawlish work through theories of where Dumbledore could have gone while Shacklebolt stood off to the side setting up boards of maps and setting pins in various colours. "Fudge said he was building an army and he was right!"

"An army…” Audrey’s voice was quiet as she glanced in my direction. “Of school children?"

"It's the indoctrination we want to prevent."

Audrey pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend the madness of Dumbledore.

"It's the principle of the thing," I was unable to contain the pride of my tone as I spoke and stepped away from Audrey, putting a respectable distance between us. She was my co-worker and that required a respectful distance. 

"We have already asked Aberforth and he said he's not seen him in months." Auror Dawlish said as he pointed at the list. "We do have reports that he has gone to Albania."

Why Albania? What possible motive could send him to Albania?

"How many more Aurors can we send after him?" Fudge looked at Dawlish, a kind of ferocity of in his eyes at the thrill of the world finally seeing the dangerous power hungry, deranged man Dumbledore truly was. "Scrimgeour has put everyone on high alert for Dumbledore and informed our allies that he is now regarded as an enemy of the state."

I glanced at Audrey, who wore a neutral expression as she watched the proceedings.

"Has there been an offer of an international manhunt?" Dawlish crossed his arms thoughtfully, seemingly assessing the idea of allies in the hunt for Dumbledore.

I chimed in with the most recent updates from the international embassies. "Minister Trembly has said they will keep an eye on the borders, per the CAM embassy representative."

"And the Americans?"

"Representative Weathers has relayed the message that MACUSA is sure we can handle this management of a former Supreme Mugwump." The words had an implicit, sarcasm to them that required no specific tone to get the point across.

I did not like Weathers – his clear disrespect for authority and procedure did not make him a suitable diplomat, but what could one expect of Americans. Audrey was safe from his particular line of accusations; her sensibility clearly came from her British mother.

Fudge rolled his eyes. "Smartarse."

A smile tugged at the corner of Audrey’s mouth for a moment – hinting at a childish sense of humour, the knowledge of which I set aside for later perusal.

No, Weasley. Focus!

"Is Madam Umbridge taking over the running of Hogwarts, Minister?" I asked while Eddie continued his quiet observations of the proceedings from where he leaned against his desk.

"Yes, and she will do a wonderful job regaining control of Hogwarts.” The Minister puffed up with pride over his selection. “McGonagall is too close to Dumbledore to manage effectively, so we have overruled the usual procedures of Hogwarts succession.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, he had begun to cross his arms in front of his chest, looking thoughtful. “Do we really have the right to overrule tradition that way? Deputy Heads are chosen for their teaching experience and management usually.”

"She's said for years she's good with children," Minister Fudge nodded his head over the papers he was holding. “That’s all a teacher needs to be in any case.”

I nodded my head in agreement, I tutored many students as a prefect. I did not just get the position for having excellent grades, I needed to be able to speak with and manage children in various stages of development and ability. Dumbledore had been hiring incompetent professors for Defence Against the Dark Arts every year, Lockhart was a particular blemish on Dumbledore’s hiring, and that was not even mentioning the now famous werewolf, Remus Lupin. In a what my only defence of Snape, he was a beyond competent potioneer, but his clear affection for the Dark Arts was a blemish on Hogwarts reputation. I was surprised to see Neville Longbottom on the list for Dumbledore’s child army, he seemed such a nervous, sensible lad.

“I have given Dolores permission to administer veritaserum to the members of Dumbledore’s Army to get to the bottom of the matter,” Minister Fudge stated clearly for the hearing of the room. “No telling how brainwashed they are.”

I agreed fully with this statement, Dumbledore’s rot had infected Hogwarts for too long and had left scars on the students who thought him a legend rather than an old man who was now grasping at political power by standing on their backs.

"Excuse me,” Audrey’s voice was quiet, “I'm going to go get some water."

"Oh, I need to get some more tea.” I summoned my tea mug from my desk with a flick of my wand, hoping the display was impressive. I was trying to learn how to do it by snapping my fingers with no success. “Long week, you know.”

I wanted to tell Audrey everything that had happened, she was sensible and would see the same issues I saw with Dumbledore’s fragrant manipulation and power grabbing. She was smart and perhaps would have some suggestions on the matter she might not have been able to bring up directly to the Minister for not being directly involved in the matter. I would give her full credit of course, I would never take credit for other people’s ideas.

I began to speak as I closed the door to the Minister’s Office behind us as we made our way to the breakroom.

“He confessed to everything! The child army against the Ministry, planning to overthrow Fudge – all of it was true!”

Audrey nodded slowly, saying nothing and taking in everything I was saying.

“Of course, I was sent off to send an owl to the Daily Prophet, and when I returned, Dumbledore was gone!” I had to catch my breath before finishing, “Rode a phoenix right out of Hogwarts!” I moved my arm for emphasis, “The cheek!”

We arrived at the breakroom and I lit a fire under the kettle, which always had water refilled in the morning by Agatha the Tea Witch.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Audrey.” The gentlemanly thing to do was reassure Audrey that this Dumbledore matter was just a flash in the pan. He was an old man who was clearly not particularly dangerous. “We’ll find Dumbledore and bring him to justice; he can’t run forever.”

Audrey was getting her glass of water from the tap.

“How many places could he possibly go where we can’t find him?” I continued as the kettle began to boil. “Not many, I assure you.”

She was far too impressed by the whole matter to speak – I could tell that much. It was a very intense way to start a day at work, but the business of governance was, as the Minister said, a constant cycle of change. Audrey had been in this office long enough to know that much, even if Britain was a less chaotic, more harmonious, country then America. 

“Let me get this straight,” Audrey finally spoke, her voice was quiet and calm, soothing to my ears for reasons I was not sure I could grasp at the moment, but low so I had to lean a little closer to hear her better. 

I smiled and nodded for Audrey to continue to speak for the mere pleasure of getting to hear her opinions on the matter – I was hoping for praise and acclaim that I was sure Audrey would provide. She’s measured and sensible, really cannot ask for better qualities in an administrative assistant. She really is a pinnacle of good sense. 

I added a teabag to the mug along with a couple spoonfuls of sugar before finally stirring in the hot water that would make something refreshing.

"Did you really think that you would waltz into the home of the most powerful wizard of the modern age, and arrest him?" 

The world seemed to stop with that statement. My teeth ground together and my jaw set itself defensively as my brain tried to fully understand what she had just said, even if I already knew what she meant. 

Audrey continued; her tone cold like a late autumn breeze. "That two Aurors, two career bureaucrats and a teenager could hold him off and arrest him as if your public enemy number two was some common Dust dealer?"

“I hardly think that’s an apt description of the matter!”

Dumbledore was not dealing drugs – he was a political insurgent.

“Really? I think it’s perfectly apt, because that is what happened!”

What in the world is happening?

“Dawlish and Shacklebolt are two of the most skilled Aurors in the Ministry’s employ.” I scoffed at the notion of Audrey’s comparison. “Dumbledore’s skills are greatly exaggerated.”

He was an old man who fled the scene at Hogwarts. Anything he was before was lost to the matter of his age and mental facilities in thinking he could stage a revolt against the Ministry.

"The man defeated Grindelwald!” Audrey’s voice was rising in some capacity, the calm tones dissipating

"Forty years ago!"

“Still one more world threat than Dawlish and Shacklebolt have managed.”

“Dumbledore wants to take over the Ministry!”

“If he wants to become Minister, why hasn’t he tried to do it before now?” Audrey snapped, her face red and flushed from temper. A show of temper I was far more comfortable with then her cool judgmental tone. “What sense does it make to ruin his entire reputation at home and abroad before trying to do it? Please explain in what world that makes any sense at all? Because I sure don’t understand the logic!”

I had nothing to say that was not me raising my voice and doing so to a co-worker was unprofessional.

"You have a lot to learn about politics Percy, and until you learn those things, you'll be used by people dumber than you for the rest of your life!"

Audrey stormed out of the breakroom with her shoulders stiff and her nose in the air, a pale imitation of the various strops I had seen from Ginny when something did not go her way.

My ears burned and my temper pounded behind my eyes, all traces of my previous good mood gone with every pointed sentence and criticism that she had lobbed in the course of our argument.

I believed Audrey to be among the most sensible people in my acquaintance, but clearly, she had sympathies for Dumbledore and Potter's wild stories even after the senile headmaster's admittance to his planning an uprising against the Ministry. 

Unbelievable!

Fudge would not like that there was a Dumbledore sympathiser in his office. Duty compels me to inform Smith and begin moving her to another department or encourage her to leave the Ministry. Something in that line of thought made me sick beneath my temper. If I went down that road, I knew I would never see her again, she would never give me her time under any circumstances and that felt far worse.

I would think about this, but Audrey would have to be handled. She did not need to be anything secretive or political. She was unlikely to cause a scandal, but I was not sure she could be trusted entirely for more than just her foreign connections. 

That night I went to bed only to dream of Audrey coming to the office to apologise, her voice soft and borderline sultry despite the quickness of her usual accent as she leaned her hip against my desk, placing her hand on some paperwork I knew was important but had not memory of the hows and whys. The only thing that mattered in that moment was she was telling me I was right.

Her cloak came off her shoulders to reveal her bare shoulders that were also freckles and pretty under the lights of the office. Her robes were a lower cut than I had ever seen her wear. She caressed my face in her hands and kissed me as I caressed her hips to pull her into my lap. I woke up before the dream could go any further, staring at the white ceiling above me trying to put my thoughts in order. 

I had to find the time to see other people, this was very inappropriate.

Chapter Text

April 3 - 18, 1996

The pursuit of Dumbledore from the Minister’s office proved itself to be a relentless endeavour. There was a constant stream of people coming in and out of the Minister’s office, reporters, officials from various offices and several prominent donors which included Lucius Malfoy. Reports were coming at all times from a variety of different directions and no one was sure where to turn for answers.

During this time, Audrey fully managed to destroy any remnants of that night-time fantasy of mine by not speaking to me for two weeks. We instead communicated through irritated sign language and pointing at things like trolls. I managed to keep our tiff out of the Minister’s view, but Eddie was doing a lot of chuckling and snickering when he thought he was out of my sight. None of this was funny!

Reported sightings of Dumbledore poured in from the tip of the Scottish Highlands to Cornwall in the south of England. Each day, hundreds of new sightings were reported, several pursued by Kingsley Shacklebolt, who claimed he needed to fill some of his time as the Black case had slowed down. His careful noting that perhaps the two were in league with one another due to Black’s previously known presence at Hogwarts, along with the insane story that was told about time travel and Pettigrew not being dead, but living as my former pet rat (an insane story, I would have known if my old pet was grown man!). The Minister found Shacklebolt’s argument to combine the cases for the moment, very agreeable.

Life in the Minister’s Office was a busy affair, made more-so for me by my lack of trust in Audrey as a Dumbledore sympathiser. I had spent nights in bed wondering if leaving her to her own devices was the right thing to do. She put on a good show of political and personal support of the Minister, but if she had bit her tongue since her arrival then she was clearly one of the greatest liars of the age.

Though, I could not recall Audrey stating a full opinion on anything, it was hard to get her choice for an ordered in lunch (“It’s fine. I’m not picky.”) You drew the straw; you get to pick! We have a procedure and I can’t eat anymore tapas! You have a chance to stop Eddie from feeding us more Spanish food – I’ve seen you cringe about it before you tell me about Mexican tacos!

I was not sure Audrey truly had an opinion on politics, given how indecisive she was in her usual dealings. I had been warned early in my career that open opinions were dangerous to have in politics if one wanted to move up the ladder. I thought it made me honest, but I could see the point of such a note of caution – many early careers had been ended by loose tongues or the appearance of such. 

Anyway – returning to topic. Over the course of three weeks, the reports of Dumbledore were steady and all leads were investigated, soon, those began to slow as the public turned their attention to other matters and we were no closer to finding him. Absolutely maddening! 

Life in the Minister’s Support Staff office had been both a very frazzled experience, but the long points of calm normality still showed themselves on a regular basis. I stayed busy taking control of the work I deemed too dangerous to pass to Audrey after her outburst. Eddie gave her more letters to answer to compensate while giving me periodic, questioning stares, asking the question of why I was not giving secretarial work to the administrative assistant? 

I would keep my confrontation with Audrey quiet, even if the office was small, adding kindling to the fire of office gossip was always in poor taste.

Oo0Oo0

April 19, 1996

The Minister had extended an invitation for me to join him at a small party. A private affair held by a well-regarded donor to the Ministry of Magic’s non-profit arm. It seemed a waste of time to me, but I was unable to refuse a direct invitation.

“I think it’s time you learned something of dining room politics,” the Minister said in the privacy of his office. “I know it’s trite and silly, but you’ll be surprised what gets done at these things if you pay attention. Wear your best dress robes. Don’t talk about policy, people outside the government find it dull.”

Which is how I found myself standing outside the iron gates of Malfoy Manner with the Minister of Magic – peering to the ground beyond to see high green hedges that shifted in shape to take the shapes of mystical creatures while displaying glimmering lights within the branches.

Were those... albino peacocks? On the lawn?

The yew hedges moved forward to encase the gravel driveway as a large tunnel to protect guest from the rain or keep them on the path to the manor I had only caught a glimpse of in the distance as the iron gate swung open.

It had a tower. 

I had a sudden realisation I may be in over my head – no! I was invited. This was an invitation to the Minister to encourage more donations to the non-profit sections of the government from people with deep pockets. I wondered why we were not funding these things ourselves as a stable government? I would bring that up later depending on how this night went. 

“Eddie said he had plans, I get the impression this might be his last post with the Ministry, he keeps talking to me about Spain.”

The small talk as we went up the long path seemed designed for purpose.

“I don’t know about that – seems silly to leave to be honest.”

“Not a traveller, Weasley?” The Minister smiled. 

“No, I like a holiday, but going to a whole other country to live seems mad to me.”

“You must think Audrey’s completely around the bend.”

“A bit.” We had barely spoken since the fight, well, disagreement. A fight implied more yelling. It had been peaceful for a couple of days, but I was beginning to realize how lonely I was from those lack of interactions. 

That earned a chuckle from the Minister, which did make me relax slightly. I could be social. People liked me, not a lot of people, but enough to where I could have a career. I needed to widen my circle and make some friends who I did not meet at work.

As we moved closer to the handsome manor house, what appeared to be small diamonds seemed to glimmer in the window. I tried not to think about how ostentatious I found that little detail. It was not my business – but the slightest sensation of being out of my depth crept into my mind as we arrived at the front door. The door swung open with an ominous creaking noise.

The inside of the manor was impressive, not quite the imposing structure of Hogwarts, but it was clearly an old family house. The stone floor was covered by a long, thick rug that led towards a room at the end of the hall where we could hear voices ahead. My eyes roamed over the portraits of the numerous, blonde, Malfoy relatives on the wall. They looked down at us, some more pointedly at me before whispering to a neighbouring portrait. 

I got the distinct impression I was the first Weasley to grace these hallowed halls. 

As the Minister and I moved closer to the party at the end of the hall, the noise grew louder. Not an obnoxious pitched chaos, but a soothing tone of harp music interlaced with the sound of conversation. I took in the size of the heavy wooden doors that had been cast open, the reached from the floor to ceiling and were clearly very old and very well-tended with no signs of scrapes or scruff marks from use.

I steadied myself quietly. I was here by invitation. I was here to assist the Minister. There was work to be done here.

“Minister! Such a pleasure to see you.” Narcissa Malfoy was a woman I only briefly recalled seeing at the Quidditch World Cup in passing – her snooty look as she looked at us all left an impression on me. She was trim, clad in green robes that brought out the grey in in her eyes and her cornflower blonde hair. At least, that seemed the proper descriptor for it. Minister Fudge shook her hand warmly as he removed his green bowler hat, holding it to his chest in a sort of gentlemanly finesse. I took note of it all and filed in a way for my own later use the next time I wore a hat to a formal event. It was the little things that created an image of a person. 

Narcissa Malfoy turned her attentions to me, a smile tugging at the corner of her ruby mouth. “You must be the young Mr. Weasley.”

“Yes, Percy is fine. It’s nice to meet you.” I held out my hand quickly, expecting a familiar, traditional handshake, but instead she held out her gloved hand, palm down. The sort of thing that reminded me of kissing a woman’s hand, a form of greeting from over one-hundred years ago. I was not kissing a Malfoy’s hand. I don’t know this woman. My confusion must have been evident on my face because she put her hand in mine, still palm down and moved them up and down in the slightest manner with a look in her eyes that was very amused.

Message received.

“Charming boy you’ve brought along Minister. A breath of fresh air.” She motioned her hand slightly to the rest of the room, where a crowd of colourfully dressed wizards and witches moved around the floor in colourful robes. Champagne glasses refilled themselves on a nearby table near a door and another table nearby was refilling itself with small, fancy looking snacks, this party was clearly well attended.    

“Yes, yes, brilliant mind, I think a bit of society would be good for him.”

“Yes, that I can see.” She smiled, but I was not sure it reached her eyes. “Champagne is over by the gallery door, Minister. My husband and some of his friends are inside, he’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“We’ll pay a visit to our esteemed host before dinner then.”

After these introductions, I was allowed to moment to take in the room as I followed the Minister. It was a very long room with dark purple walls lined with even more portraits than the hallway entrance had implied. The walls climbed high to reveal and revel in a pair of delicate chandeliers that hung from the ceiling above, reflecting more light into the room from the lit mage lights hidden within its crystals. The space was ambient and welcoming, suitably bright to get by, but still dim enough to allow people to look up at the chandeliers. I could see a top of a pipe organ off in the corner, hidden by a large velvet curtain that offered a backdrop for a self-playing harp on a small stage in front of it.

There was also a marble fireplace with a gilded mirror above it which reflected light around the room from the chandelier.   

The long table was set with small plates and elegantly arranged with multiple forks and spoons for a multicourse meal and I rattled through every etiquette lesson my mother had instilled in her rowdy children. Deep breath Percy, you’ll manage.

I had grown up with hand-me-downs, clothes that had been well worn, patch and regifted once they no longer fit my elder brothers. Charlie was rough on clothes and mum had done her best, his clothes soon went towards the twins once he began to fill out from the combination of Quidditch and animal handling with Professor Kettleburn, the old Magical Creatures professor. Kettleburn was missing several limbs from his misadventures and Charlie wanted a recommendation letter for a Dragon Reserve. The arrangement was mutually beneficial. My clothes came from Bill at that point, who lived a slightly more scholarly life, but the various duels from his Defence Against the Dark Arts class had left many places for repair.

There was a difference between hand-me-downs and inheritance. Inherited items, like what I was seeing in the Malfoy Manor, had financial value. Not scuffed, not worn from use. Quality items that were preserved for future enjoyment.

Cheap goods never equated to quality – they were designed to get a person to come back and buy another cheap replacement instead of paying more for something that would last triple the time. It was like cauldron quality, a cheap cauldron would melt after the first potion went wrong, but a good quality pewter cauldron, gently used, could last an adult wizard ten years. We could not afford a nice cauldron for mum, so her second-hand cauldrons lasted on average two years instead of the usual ten, despite her talent for homemade potion remedies. By my maths, we would have spent less over the years if we had bought her a nice one once the twins were at Hogwarts, but nobody listened to me about cauldron economics. It was a cheaper expense and that was all they could see. 

It’s part of a design to keep people poor and struggling – not investing their way out of a flawed system. More purchases, more money for the company itself and they continue to cut costs to pocket more while skirting around safety regulations. I became interested in this economic theory during my cauldron bottom report for Crouch, it really opened my eyes to what exactly the crushing wheel of the rich could do to the poor to save a Knut. This is why I wanted to work for the Ministry, I want to help people and protect them from people who do not care for their suffering in pursuit of money, one of the ways we can do that is through strict regulations about what international products were allow into the country and how we set high standards at home. 

I was not going to climb out of poverty without understanding the economics that kept my family there beyond having too many children.

The Minister motioned me off to the champagne table as he was pulled into a conversation with an elderly couple about Saint Mungo’s new program for children with long-term illnesses. Not quite my area of expertise. 

I lifted a glass of champagne to my lips. I was used to drinking cheap swill with Oliver and I could tell immediately by comparison that this was very expensive. A bit sweet at first, but instead of being met with the bitter dryness of a cheap drink, this one was only dry by comparison. I made a note to start keeping a nice wine in the flat for special occasions, something for celebrations or impressing girls. The Minister would be back in a few minutes, I stayed close to the table and did my best to ignore the creeping sensation that I did not belong here.  

“It’s a shame the Ainsley’s have fallen from society; they were always such fun at parties.” The grey-haired woman at the other end of the table sipped her champagne as she held council with her two equally elderly friends. I had noticed the women had mostly congregated here in the Drawing Room, I was very sure I was the youngest person in attendance.  

“Oh, they have no real heirs at this point,” her friend countered as she reached up to brush back a few loose hairs from her black and white streaked hair, “the girl does not count. Best to forget the families who could not hold on.”

“Madam Ainsley has been put forward as the host for the Ministry’s private events. I heard she signed the contract not too long ago. Completely undercut the Malfoys, they’ve been hosting for years.”  

“Really? That must be a real slap for Mrs. Malfoy. I still think about those silver robes that Lucinda wore at her coming out party, what a showstopper!” The grey-haired witch sighed. “Such lovely auburn hair. She’ll do splendidly!”

“I wish we still had someone in this circle willing to be so fashionable,” the dark-haired witch sighed, “This younger crop is not doing their job to give us something to talk about.”

“Oh hush, daring these days is Muggle clothes, I shudder to think about what the youth would think appropriate to wear in society without us to guide them.”

I quite liked my jumpers. 

“Yes, but it would be so exciting!” A small white-haired witch in blue robes chirped. “We should have had more children in our youth, not a lot of young purebloods these days like it was when we were young. Less options for a respectable marriage, I worry over my grandchildren’s prospects. What if they have to marry Americans?”

“Americans have money to go with their blood status, more than what many of us without the name of Malfoy can say. It might be more advantageous even with the terrible accent in your house.”

Audrey did not have a terrible accent. I had heard worse accents from the MACUSA Embassy, I would describe Audrey’s as on the low end of moderate. Thick, spoke a bit too fast, but hit most of her words in a really pleasing manner. 

“You have granddaughters, Maeve, more likely they leave for America or marry a Weasley.”

The champagne no longer tasted so sweet.

The Minister returned from his conversation and picked up his own glass, “Right then, let’s go see Lucius.” 

I followed the Minister away from the champagne table towards where the men had gathered in a side room. This room had a card table and smelled slightly of too much cologne while being far too warm from the fireplace. Practicing the usual bits of sex segregation, I had seen at parties at Hogwarts and the formal dance of the Triwizard Tournament, perhaps we never grew out of that adolescent awkwardness. There was a blond man sitting in a highbacked chair and my thoughts stopped when I realized who exactly seemed to be leading this little group.

I knew Lucius Malfoy, more of him then anything else. Even when he visited the Ministry, to visit the Minister and make a donation to a Ministry cause of some nature relating to the support of some cause or another related to the non-profit arm of the Ministry. He was direct, always speaking of the good that could be done for this cause or another with the Minister and how he was often encouraging those with the means to follow his altruistic example to do so for these good causes of supporting children.

“Ah, Minister.” Malfoy rose from his chair to shake the Minister’s hand in a warm, familiar greeting. “Always such a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise, Lucius,” Minister Fudge gestured towards me. “You’re met Percy of course, my personal assistant.”

“Yes, we have met indeed.” 

I hoped he was referencing that introduction we had in the Minister’s Office after I had begun working for Fudge and not the disastrous brawl with my father in the bookshop. Malfoy had made the comment in the Minister’s Office that I looked just like my father and I was not sure I could forgive him for it. 

Malfoy looked at me with a condescending smile and reached out his hand. I took it, politely, knowing where I was, who I was with and who I was representing. I tried not to think about how cold his hand was and offered my most professional adult smile. 

“Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Malfoy.”

He drew back his hand and continued to smile, “How have you been Weasley? What does a young salary man do for fun these days.”

I tried to ignore the sudden skin prickling sensation of knowing I was being watched and judged. “I’m in London, so I go to museums on my days off. I just saw an exhibit on Ancient Greece.”

“Ah, such an exciting experience. I’m sure that was a big change for you. Life in the city is good for a young man on his way up in the world.”

I tried to ignore his condescending tone as he smiled in a way that did not reach his eyes. I knew I had not impressed Malfoy; he would never allow himself to be impressed by a Weasley, we were on very different sections of the economic ladder.

The conversation shifted towards the Minister and I was allowed to see who else was in the room. There were Crabbe and Goyle, the fathers of Draco Malfoy’s schoolyard henchmen – both massive, brick shaped men twice the width of me talking or grunting to each other in the corner. The apples had not fallen far from their trees. I tried not to think about their rumoured actions during the war, the Imperious Curse was a scourge to many during the war.

I recognised a man named Corvus Avery, making his way towards Malfoy and the Minister. Avery had been making donations to several charity programs that were essentially in their infancy, the sort of money that could get interesting gardening projects and conservation groups off the ground and into the public eye. He generally mingled around the Magical Creature Offices to support those causes. Corvus Avery had a head of stark white hair, a beaky, hooked nose and generally reminded me of some sort of bird with the way his eyes moved around the room. He was an old man, somewhere in his seventies perhaps and had the lines at his eyes to show as much. His wand had a carving of a bird of some sort at the end of it with wings and claws extended, I could see it poking out of the holster at his hip.

The final man in the room was a plain faced young man with a beaky nose, weak chin and dark eyes. His hair was a listless brown colour that reminded me of dried clay. He was an unremarkable looking person, the kind who could be passed over in a room if he did not make himself known there. He looked at me from top to bottom and smirked, placing met immediately as part of the large brood of Weasley offspring. In looking around this room, this person was probably the closest to me in age, everyone else was old enough to be in a different phase of life at least.

I moved away from the Minister, Malfoy and old Corvus Avery, leaving them to chat so I could admire a tapestry nearby depicting some piece of history I was hoping to theorise over until we were called for dinner. 

Those plans were ruined when the young man made his way over and took a place beside me. Out of the dim lights and their cast shadows, I reassessed my opinion of his age. He was older than me, maybe by about a decade if I was any good at guessing ages.

“Don’t worry about the old timers, they’re still stuck in the past.” His voice was oddly appropriate leaving his mouth, he sounded as calm and warm toned as he spoke. He looked over the room with an appraising eye, “Not all of us get to rot in luxury and generational estate homes.”

Wait, does this bloke have a job? Is there a chance I can have a normal conversation tonight?

“Some of us get to rot away in rental townhouses.”

I was fighting to keep my mouth shut and losing badly, “At least I get to do something interesting with my time instead of rotting away in it.” 

“Touché, Weasley.”

He held out his hand. “Harrow Avery, the old man talking to Malfoy and the Minister is my father.” Harrow Avery must have been able to tell I was a bit confused by the turn this conversation had taken, there was a slight smile on his face that I was not sure I could place.

“Percy Weasley.” I took his hand and tried to ignore that is was very clammy.

“Good handshake, a bit feisty. I think you’ll do alright here.”

I was not sure I wanted too. I knew I was not going to have anything in common with anyone in this house, this was not a night that would help my career, this was night to kiss up to people who never worked, never struggled and had nothing to offer the world except empty platitudes and deep pockets.

The remainder of the evening was spent in Harrow Avery’s company, he seemed to make it his mission to make sure I did not wander off or steal silverware or whatever nonsense he had crafted in his mind that I was capable of. He told me about previous dinner faux pas by other attendees. How someone had used a wrong fork or drank too much wine and I had to tune him out so I did not second guess which fork to use with which course.

There is a lot to be said for living just over the line of government support programs, the Ministry would hate for even the lowest department head to have to apply for such services. It would look terrible and send more candidates to the private sector if they did not believe they could make a living in government service.

Was this all I had fought for? A seat at a table for people who would never see me as an equal for not having generational wealth? For the inability to buy my way into power? I worked for a living. I enjoy it! I get to make a difference in the world. I get to see it happen under my hands instead of engaging in backdoor dealings for funds for social causes. Anything I have in life; I have earned by my own hand!

I did not want to be rich – I was not convinced I liked these people. What I want is to be comfortable in life and mostly free of the financial struggles that come from a large family. My children will not wear second-hand clothes, they will not have second-hand wands and wonder at night if we had enough money for the required schoolbooks. Lockhart requiring his whole collection for students was a strain on my mother’s budget – he got enough from the students purchases to fund his long-term stay in Saint Mungo’s and it was a well-deserved one in my mind.

Ridiculous nonsense. 

Chapter Text

May 7, 1996

Watching Audrey move through the world was enough to almost make me forget our disagreement for a few moments. We communicated now through more than troll noises, now it was human conversation – even if it was a stilted, bare minimum regarding the business of work. I ignored my baser impulse to try and pull a genuine opinion out of her through senseless conversation. I was not sure if this was something worth salvaging, it really seemed too dangerous to do so when I was unconvinced of her loyalties. 

But watching her move a few stray hairs from in front of her eyes was something that fully captured my attention for far longer than it should have. Admiring the thoughtful expression of her mouth while she was reading some legal documentation to summarise for Smith could make me lose all train of thought and honestly - I was now making tea to try and focus on other things. Like her numerous personal flaws, both real and whatever I could imagine.  

“You two still not talking?” Smith’s voice cut through the peace of the breakroom as I loomed over a kettle.

“What do you think?”

“I miss the occasional youthful chatter to be honest.”

“Well, it’s occasional now.”

“You know what I mean.” Smith came into the room and started riffling through the cabinet for some of his emergency snacks that I knew he hid in the back inside of a biscuit tin with an owl on it. He put the tin on the counter and popped it open, carefully looking over the biscuits inside for his selection. “I assume you two had a fight but I’m not sure over what.”

The kettle stopped boiling and I allowed it to cool for a few moments while I set up my tea properly. “There was not a fight.”

“Really? News to me since this office has been so chilly lately.”

“The warming spells have been removed, put on a jumper.”

“Don’t be cheap, Weasley, and you know what I mean. What happened?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“It’s affecting what little enjoyment I get out of this job,” Smith’s voice was cool and he clearly was giving thought to leaving the Ministry like the Minister suspected. Smith must have seen the shock on my face at his admission and his expression softened. “There’s more to life than money, Weasley. When you start to feel secure in life, you’ll understand.”

I knew Smith made good money, he was higher than me on the pay tier and seniority raises, and I was not sure what would push him out the door.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Smith shrugged, “You’ve saving your money, right? Tossing what you don’t need into your Gringotts vault?”

I nodded.

“You should make that money work for you instead of just sitting there gathering dust. Invest a bit, put some in bonds or some business venture stock. It’s better for you in the long run for retirement or expensive future investments like a girlfriend.” 

I ignored the girlfriend comment and filed the rest of Smith’s ramblings away for my next Gringotts visit. My savings had recovered after the expense of leaving home with some extra and I had more money sitting in Gringotts then I ever thought I would have before I was twenty. My life was pretty stable and it might be worth taking that advice. 

“Anyway, I think the parts of my job I enjoy can be done better in other places; government work has changed a lot in the last few years. It’s... There is a lot of money changing hands and going into pockets under the guise of public service and goodwill – but the donors get favours that I don’t think they deserve. They’re buying the power to whisper in the ears of the people who run this country and it has never felt so overt as it has in the last couple of years.”

“Everything at the Ministry is fine! The rest of the world is what’s gone mad.”

“Including Audrey?”

A part of me knew I was being baited, but I was talking before that part of me that realised it could stop me. 

“I don’t think she’s committed to the Ministry’s cause.”

“Of course, she’s not, she’s American, it’s not her problem and they usually aren’t interested in international problems until the spells start flying. Their Aurors are a force of nature by all accounts.”

“No, I mean, she is here! She has no right to dismiss the work we did to try and arrest Dumbledore and essentially call us idiots for trying! At least we tried to do something to tell the world who he really is! Not bury our heads in the sand over because the delusional old man has a reputation!”

Smith nodded along as I spoke, listening and I felt the almost uncomfortable feeling of being respected by my peers and superiors wash over me. It was still a strange sensation, even with the last year, but I was moving up in the world and needed to adapt to being someone in the orbit of important people.

“She never says anything of substance – I can’t get her opinion on lunch and she comes out with that anti-Ministry rhetoric?” I reached for the milk to put a dash of it in my tea. “I expect better sense from the people who work here.”

“Perce, you wouldn’t care so much about Audrey’s opinions if you didn’t put any value on them.”

I almost dropped the container of milk in my tea. That would have been a disaster.

“I don’t think either of us know Audrey as well as we should, and if she’s on the fence about the Ministry’s handling of Dumbledore, well, like you said, she’s American and it is not her circus.”

“This Ministry is a functioning government body. It is not a circus!” I managed not to make my departure from the room as dramatic as Audrey had in the weeks before as I tried to ignore Smith’s efforts to muffle his snickering as I took my tea back to the office. 

Oo0Oo0

May 23 – May 30, 1996

Minister Fudge stormed out of his office, waving a newspaper over his head before slamming it on Smith’s desk with such force it shook. "Who is writing this trite?"

Audrey tilted her head slightly to look at the headline while caressing her mug of coffee. I had a clear view of the paper while standing at the Minister’s side.

Government Corruption Starts with Leadership

I was not familiar with this paper. I preferred the Daily Prophet for its respectability and even-handed approach. Independent news sources like the Quibbler were prone to bias and extremist views.

“I have no idea Minister, but I will find out.” I scribbled the request onto my ever-growing list of things that need to be handled by me because everyone else in this office is a lunatic.

“No, Weasley, I need you to take notes at this meeting. Audrey!”

What?!

“Yes Minister?” Audrey fumbled with her mug slightly, her grip loosening in surprise at the address. 

“Find out who is running this paper and report back.”

I ignored Smith’s amused glance in my direction, I was too busy staring at Miss Graves, hoping to convey my dislike of the request through glare alone.

“Of course, sir.” 

Audrey took the offered newspaper from the Minister as I followed him out the door to the meeting with the Auror Department to get some sign of an update on the whereabouts of Dumbledore. New leads in the manhunt had taken a good portion of the Minister’s time and attention, taking mine along with it by extension as I followed him to every meeting, took extensive notes I needed to sort and clarify post-meeting. There were more meetings in the coming days that consumed a large portion of my time – and there was no word from Audrey regarding the Minister’s request over the following days, granted, the Minister had not been asking, he was too busy with other matters.

I like to think I’m a generous sort of man, I donate to good causes when asked, mostly related to education and other matters I view as important, and as such, gave Audrey more than enough time to conduct her Minister requested investigation before I decided to go find some information for myself on a particularly slow day in the office almost a week after the Minister’s request to Miss Graves.

Getting to the wider record office was no issue, finding out where to start in this was a different sort of challenge. It felt a bit like a puzzle and I did enjoy my morning crossword.

My mother had schooled her children in the family tree, a bid to make sure we knew who the wider cousins were and how exactly they were all related. The wider Weasley family was simple, we were notorious for boys and the only differentiation of names were the wives and Matilda Weasley, the last girl born to the family who never married and instead had an esteemed career as a Hogwarts professor. 

In turn, the Prewetts were a small family who were able to have daughters, but our mother had no surviving siblings so there were no close relatives, aside from the squib cousin who we never spoke of. I had no recollection of the name Talbot in attachment to my relatives... Then she had to be a Muggle-born or... a foreigner perhaps? From the continent maybe? Which group would be smaller to check here at the Ministry... Foreign visa registration was kept in a pair of cabinets for International Magical Cooperation – they kept those files in particular for several years in case of crimes and general record keeping.

I walked past the collection of small filing cabinets; my old department kept their minor records in a particular corner. I had sorted through the old files when I joined the Ministry, throwing out the ones that were past keeping and making sure everything was in order, reportedly a task completed every two years per Mr. Crouch. I was in here for over a week, pulling stuff that was missed in previous record cleaning.

I cracked a likely cabinet open and began to go through it manually so I did not miss anything. 

Sosa...

Soucy...

I like the rhythm of this – it’s comfortable.

Stevenson...

Tabbs...

Talbot!

I pulled the file and opened it quickly. Valencia Talbot was a tall, red-headed woman with glasses and stare that, even in the photograph, seemed perceptive. She had a work permit on file to start her own printing business for a newspaper! This was far too easy! And she had an address too. So, she’s established in the country, no spouse but that did not preclude her having a partner who was local.

Turning the page showed me more of her background. Ilvermorny graduate. Originally from the city of Albany in New York (That sounded familiar). She was only about nine years older than Audrey, reasonable they would not know each other from school. She was born in a place called... Illinois? These state names were very silly.

I quickly made a copy of the file with a duplication spell and put the original back in its proper place. Audrey was smart enough to find these things on her own, but in case she had her own ulterior motives to motivate her to compliance in supporting a rogue newspaper, I would have a resource to not allow the wool to be pulled over my eyes.    

The clock would start when the Minister remembered the request – I tried to think about that merely being a poor excuse to put off interviewing replacement Administrative Assistants. Yes, that was all it was. 

Oo0Oo0

June 13, 1996

"Any leads on that newspaper, Audrey?" 

Fudge’s voice echoed across the room as he left his office, the door swinging closed behind him and the noise pulled my attention away from the work I was doing organising the Minister’s schedule, marking times he was free for meetings with departments that were not at the forefront of the hunt for Dumbledore. 

"I'm afraid not, Minister. It may just be a penname." Audrey’s expression was very neutral, betraying no reason for the Minister to question her further, but I knew she was lying, or had done nothing on the matter at all and I was leaning towards the former because lazy was the last word I would use to describe Audrey.

The Minister nodded, “I see, carry on, Audrey.”

Audrey nodded in acknowledgement.

“Percy, don’t forget to leave Friday afternoon free, I may have a meeting with the Law Enforcement Office about changing tactics to find Dumbledore’s allies.”

“Of course, Minister.” My eyes drifted towards Audrey who was quietly watching the exchange, our eyes met and she broke contact first to look at the inkwell on her desk.

“Smith, I need an update on that project you’re managing to locate any sympathisers within the Ministry.”

“On my way, boss.” Smith gathered up his papers and documentations to follow the Minister into his private office, the door closing behind them with a click.

Audrey’s eyes moved off the inkwell and met mine once more. I tried to ignore the shivering sensation that shot through me, I was still angry and disappointed about her apparent sympathies and what I had just witnessed transpire between her and the Minister. I took no time to gather my thoughts, instead I stood from my chair, taking the manilla folder of information I had accrued in my hands and walked across the office to Audrey’s desk. 

“I took a trip to the records office,” I put the folder on the desk in front of a cool-eyed Audrey, ensuring the name in bold print on the tab was facing her. “Look what I found.”

Talbot, Valencia Marie

Her eyes focused on the name, her lips tightening for a fraction of a moment before she resumed her usual façade.

“Oh...” Her voice was low, “How silly of me!”

I did not believe a word of this. My only response was to coolly raise an eyebrow as she looked up at me.

“I never learned how to read; the state of American education really is abysmal.” She smiled in her usually self-deprecating manner that I did not find charming at this moment. “I’m surprised I made it this far in life.”

Audrey was far too smart to ever sell me on a lie that bold-faced or stupid – let alone both.

"Somehow I doubt that." I tapped Valencia's name on the folder, bringing Audrey’s attention back to it like a student. "She was in the immigration section. You’ve been looking in the London listings.”

"I didn't think she was American, I mean, Valencia is a pretty fancy name, too fancy for an American wix.” I really disliked wix as a term. “We're simple people."

I adjusted my glasses, trying not to look smug in victory. “See, I read the file.” I hoped whatever face I was making was not giving away everything I found before I could have the satisfaction of saying it. “She’s from the same town you are according to her visa application.”

I had not memorised a collection of general facts about Audrey – that would be insane behaviour.

“Hm, I wasn’t aware I knew everyone in Albany. We must be smaller than the census says.”

Sarcasm, even disguised under a tone of disbelief, was not attractive. I was not going to take the bait.

I looked down at Audrey, ignoring the sheer gumption of her direct eye contact in this moment. I never broke her gaze as I reached for the file and opened it to reveal Valencia’s photograph and visa application. 

“You’re welcome.”

I turned away from Audrey and returned to my desk, allowing myself a moment to bask in my victory before I resumed my usual affairs of office. I would give Audrey time to decide if she was to come clean with the Minister, there was no rush and Smith needed her administrative skills for his own project – but when the lies had gone on long enough, I was ready to make a clean break by telling the Minister the truth of the matter.

In the coming days I would potentially be fully breaking ties with Audrey Graves once and for all. 

Chapter Text

June 21, 1996

“WEASLEY!” 

I jumped at the table, my scone bouncing off my plate when I dropped it while standing from my chair to go to the living room a few steps away. The Minister’s face greeted me from the fireplace, he looked both deranged and horrified.

“Get to the Ministry! Now!”

“Yes, sir!”

I rushed back to my bedroom, taking off my housecoat and throwing it in the bathroom as I passed by. My work clothes were hanging on the door hook of my bedroom and I had not moved so quickly to get dressed since I had to study for my N.E.W.T.s on a very strict regimen with Penny. The speed which I had removed my housecoat left me running through the final quarter of the hallway in my pants, and socks but that was life. My clock showed five in the morning, it was not quite dawn yet and I was not supposed to be at the Ministry for another couple of hours. I was just could not sleep and saw no point in going back to bed.

I got dressed, missing three buttons on my outer robes and only managing to fix them before running out the door of my flat and taking the lift down the lobby where the shift was switching over for the doormen. They paid me no mind as I ran out the front door to the apparition point near my building. The cool morning air made me more grateful I had not decided to go for a short run this morning to deal with my insomnia.

I turned down the alley half a block from my building. The purple rat graffiti on the wall was a familiar site, marking this as an approved apparition point. Other such locations had different animals in other colours, it made it easier for wizards to focus on the one unusual thing about these approved alleyways for apparition instead of one of hundreds of identical ones throughout London. Anti-Muggle charms kept the markers from being painted over or putting their garbage in designated arrival spots. It was an efficient system; one I never had an issue with.

Disappearing with absolute silence was a skill I had worked to perfection. When I opened my eyes again, I was right outside one of the Ministry apparition entrances and slipped quickly inside. I closed the door behind me and felt myself descend deeper beneath London on a lift that stopped in a side entrance to the Atrium where I stepped out and followed the sound of silence to the grand expanse of the Atrium. There were people about, but they were clad in crimson Auror robes and in discussion. The statue of the Fountain of Magical Brethren had been destroyed, the pieces lay scattered throughout the Atrium and I froze for a moment, wondering what had transpired.

I flashed my Minister Office badge to the approaching Auror, who quickly motioned me down a preapproved path away from the destruction. I walked quickly away from the investigation, glancing back to watch the Aurors work spells and listen to theories. The Head of the Department, Rufus Scrimgeour was quickly recognizable as he was quietly and firmly directed his team. I made it to the lift and began my ascent to the Minister’s Office as I tried to control my racing thoughts.

What had I just walked into?

The ride was much shorter than usual, given the mostly empty Ministry. Once the doors opened, I ran out of the lift and down the dark hall to the office where I could see light from under the door. The door was flung open by my own hand and for some reason, I was less surprised by what I saw before me then I should have been.

Minister Fudge was there, of course, his green pinstripe pyjamas peeking out under his robes as he had apparently just rolled out of bed at receiving word of the situation. He looked shaken and not the firm leader whom I had started working for at the end of the summer, a part of him seemed much older. 

Across from him stood Albus Dumbledore. 

My hand moved to my wand as quietly took in the scene before me. 

“He’s back, Weasley.” The Minister spoke, his voice quiet with a slight tremor behind it. “You-Know-Who.”

My eyes moved away from the Minister and back to Dumbledore who was looking at me with a serious, but almost pitying expression. With the Minister’s words and the presence of Dumbledore, I had no choice but to believe it was true.

“What happened?” My mouth was dry from the horror of it all. This was not happening. It was not happening! If I closed my eyes, it would all be over – revealed to be some terrible nightmare. He was not back! The dead do not come back!

“I’ll tell you the full details when Smith gets here, but Potter broke into the Ministry with a group of school children. There are currently accused Death Eaters being held in the Department of Mysteries.” The Minister took a deep breath. “You should know that whichever two of the Weasley boogle are closest to Potter are reported to have been in attendance. Both are fine, considering the circumstances.”

I knew exactly which two he was talking about, it would not be the twins after their embarrassing departure from Hogwarts, which left Ron and Ginny as the only suspects. 

The Minister adjusted the collar of his robes. “I need to get the Department Heads to their offices; it’s going to be a long day.” He laughed dryly. “One of my final acts as Minister I should think.” The Minister ambled off, half in a daze, to his private office and closed the door to make the appropriate floo calls. Leaving me alone with Albus Dumbledore.  

I had never been alone with Dumbledore before – there had always been someone else around and now I was confronted by the towering presence of a wizard who had been sending the Ministry on a wild goose chase to find and arrest him for nearly two months. A man who allowed an ongoing array of nonsense at Hogwarts for decades. The bit of dust and debris in his beard was the only thing I could focus on that made him appear human. 

“Ah, Mr. Weasley,” I managed not to cringe at the overt tone of familiarity. “It’s been some time, how have you been?”

Dumbledore peered at me with his bright blue eyes wearing an all-knowing sort of expression over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. My mouth was dry and I struggled to find the words I wanted to say. Did you orchestrate this? Pick your soldiers and send them along with your blessing? Those children are safer away from you!

“Alright.” My natural accent slipped out for a moment, reminding me distinctly of Ron for a moment to my own ears before I shoved the thought away.

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment as I waited for him to say something else as the silence seemed to grow like vast canyon between us.

“Was this all you hoped it would be?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dumbledore gestured slightly with a couple of his fingers and before he could explain himself or I could say something cutting and rude there was a ruckus at the entry door.

Eddie Smith flew into the office, half out of breath wearing his nightshirt, Muggle trousers and a housecoat that he had thrown on in a hurry – his ash brown hair flying wildly around his head. I could not even be smug about taking the two minutes to get dressed because I laid out my work clothes the night before – I was still far too shocked at everything. Smith’s whole demeaner reflected the moment we were in. He took a drink from the flask he pulled out of the pocket of his housecoat, taking two deep drinks of the contents. I had nothing to say to that.

“What the fuck is going on?” Smith made eye contact with Dumbledore and stiffened nervously in the doorway. “Mate, I am not as dumb as those other idiots who tried to arrest you – I’m a higher class or moron.”

An amused smile tugged at the corner of Dumbledore’s mouth. I was less amused.

I did not have it in me to even protest Smith’s comments. I was suddenly back in the Burrow watching my mother receive word that her brothers had been murdered by Death Eaters. I pushed the memory away and tried to focus on what was happening in the present.

“As delightful as this morning has been, I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this conversation another time. Besides, you both are sure to have an eventful day.” As Dumbledore left the office, he gave Smith and I polite smiles that I knew I had not earned and he seemed so comfortable with this war on our doorstep as he left the office with no further fuss.

I gave Smith the short version of events as I currently understood them, to Smith’s credit, he kept his composure, only cursing the Minister twice.

The hour that followed fulfilled Dumbledore’s words as more people arrived at the Ministry, including Audrey who was the last staff member to arrive holding a mug of coffee because of course she made time for that when the world was falling apart around us. And she was fully dressed - her hair being pulled back in a ponytail instead of its usual bun was the only implication she had rushed out of the house. 

“What’s going on?” Audrey’s brisk American tones cut through the room like a knife.

I decided it Smith would be far better at delivering this news then I would be.

“Potter was right... He’s back.”

“What!”

My grip on my desk tightened, it was the only thing keeping me upright as Smith got Audrey up to speed. You-Know-Who's followers had broken into the Ministry of Magic, fought a group of Hogwarts students led by Harry Potter (Ron, Hermione and Ginny following his lead!) and that Dumbledore had shown up in the Ministry, duelling Voldemort and had a whole conversation on the matter with the Minister of Magic.

Merlin, hearing this again was worse than the first time!

The day passed in a blur as the early stages of a change of leadership for the Ministry began and the hurried flurry of announcements and debate over Fudge’s successor began quietly in the corridors. The Minister stayed in his office, contemplating the extent of his failures.

That evening, I returned home to my empty flat, lighting my wand to look around the room as I was suddenly engulfed by a wave of terror at the darkness around me. The sudden noise from Hermes made me grab my chest to try and still my racing heart. Hermes was sitting on his perch in the living room and staring at me with his large yellow eyes, watching me collect myself.

“It’s just you,” I muttered as I lit the lamps with a flick of my wand.

Hermes tilted his head, his large yellow eyes watching me as I kicked off my shoes.

I was looking at my couch, there was a book on the table I had been working through, but I never made it to my destination. The world gave out beneath my feet and blood rushed to my ears as I sat down on the floor – when had it gotten so hard to breathe? I could not breathe! 

My heart raced. Bouncing erratically through my chest like a bludger in a storage chest, banging and rattling and – Breathe! Not again!

The events of the days flew through my head. The concern. -Breathe! - The sudden change of demeanour within the Ministry as word got out -Try harder! - all of the memos and requests from every office demanding explanations that we could not provide. – Get a bloody grip, Weasley! - 

I found myself on the floor next to my couch – I am too young for a heart attack! - unable to climb into it as the world around me grew smaller. Great! I’m going to die on the floor with my owl as a witness!

Breathe! There were shadows at the edge of my vision as I struggled to take in air. It was like drowning. Drowning in air. Breathe! Calm down! 

I remembered my mother’s voice when she received word her brothers had been murdered. The way she crumpled in the doorway and screamed. The sort of horror a child remembers. Don’t go back there!

But that was where we were going. More deaths. More loss and – Count to ten! Focus on something! 

I did not know how much time had passed. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been an hour but when I came out of whatever that was, I felt like I had run several miles in a full sprint. Breathless, exhausted, despite having physically done nothing more than sit on the floor and give into the worst thoughts I had about the past and future. 

The passing thought to go to my mother flashed through my mind, but going home would be the equivalent of admitting I had done something wrong when I had done nothing more than make the rational choice to not take part in whatever shadow politics Dumbledore was involved in. I was right not to trust him, look where that has lead Ron and Ginny, fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry with a teenage gang! 

I leaned back against the couch, my head resting against the arm. I did nothing wrong. It was sensible to not believe the word of a boy who was clearly trying to kill my youngest siblings with shenanigans. Dumbledore was not a trustworthy figure in any case, a man who did nothing when presented the opportunity today to finish You-Know-Who. The Ministry would handle this. We had Aurors and an incoming Minister from the Law Enforcement Office. We could do this. 

He's worked in the shadows for a year...

That does not matter! My hands were tightly clenched, a white-knuckle grip on nothing except the sensation of my fingernails cutting into my hand. I took a deep breath that I felt move through my body, reminding me of every ache and pain as a sense of exhaustion fell over me in its entirety. I was going to open the window for Hermes and go to bed... No, I do not think I’m going to make it to bed. I will just sleep on the couch. 

Chapter Text

June 22 – 28, 1996

In the immediate aftermath of the revelation of You-Know-Who's return to Wizarding Britain, the whole state of my world changed immediately. Fudge was in the early stages of being removed from office, voted out in a rapid vote of no confidence but would maintain the office to handle the affairs of state in house while his successor was formally approved in the coming days and allowed time to find his own replacement. The Head Auror Scrimgeour was truly one of the only candidates under these conditions, Amelia Bones as the Head of the Law Enforcement Office was another option for the job, but there was a checklist of things that needed to be handled before anyone assumed office – such as the sudden surging number of dementors being reported across the country and ensuring there were no internal protests or those of higher Law Enforcement position who would want the job.

Myself and the Minister's direct staff worked straight through the weekend. Audrey drank what I believed to be an obscene amount of coffee and seemed far too calm about this whole affair. It made me wonder about the state of her sanity. She remained as pleasant as ever despite the chaos around us.

By comparison, Eddie Smith grumbled and muttered through the whole weekend and into the workweek proper, giving hard stares to Fudge's back as he passed by his desk and refused to speak to the Minister at various points, unless he was asked something directly and even that was begrudging and quick – not the model of efficiency or politeness one wanted in the Minister's Office.

During the week proper, the sudden influx of prominent officials from the Embassy Offices throughout London had begun to gather and petition for information and clarity. The most vocal amongst them was MACUSA's Elihu Weathers – who performed his most difficult courtesy of curbing the edges of bluntness for the sake of international relations, but he was clearly biting his tongue through every meeting, perhaps saving it all for the next Minister of Magic. At several points, I was aware of Weathers trying to slink out of the office during one of Audrey's coffee trips.

It would not take a genius to be correct about the nature of the discussion. Returning to the states would be the smartest thing Audrey could do under these circumstances.

When he stopped trying to sneak away when Audrey was out of the office, I realised that he had managed to have the talk he so desperately wanted with her.

It was none of my business in any case, I was too tired to care.

Seven days straight of work was enough to drive me to the edge of reason and it did the same to the rest of the office.

Oo0Oo0

July 9, 1996

By the first week of July, the period of adjustment and remaining doubts came to a sudden, inevitable end by the reports of political assassination. Amelia Bones, the Head of the Law Enforcement Office, was found murdered in her home, news that sent shockwaves through Magical Britain as word inevitably got out that there was no sign of a break in and there were reasonable suspicions that You-Know-Who had killed her personally. Madam Bones was regarded as powerful, gifted, witch and was mentioned as a candidate for Minister for her high rank in the Law Enforcement Offices. It would be enough to make her a target.

Meaning that Head Auror Scrimgeour officially had no real competition for the role in the eyes of the public, he was made Minister of Magic less than two days after Amelia Bones' murder.

Security for powerful members of the wider Law Enforcement Offices were increased per Scrimgeour's orders, as he stepped in to help handle the crisis as he was not inclined to keep replacing staff once he formally assumed office. I knew there was shuffling in the lower offices within Magical Law Enforcement as well, which was part of the reason Scrimgeour had not made an immediate move upstairs.

A reasonable man, despite Smith's muttering about this whole transfer of power taking too long.

Then came a second suspicious death. Emmaline Vance was found dead outside the Muggle Prime Minister's residence during the first week of July and questions were raised about why she was even there to begin with. I had my own suspicions and had no one to voice them too with Fudge now away doing the minor diplomacy that Scrimgeour did not have time for. This would not be how I would run this office when I became Minister, no, a well-oiled machine with contingency plans, not this frazzled mess. Why were we not blatantly chasing down these people?

A question that more firmly solidified Scrimgeour's position in the final debates for who would fill Fudge's position, effectively removing any remaining dissenters. As terror swept through the streets, the whispers of pro-Scrimgeour sentiment grew within the Ministry's walls and the murder of Amelia Bones only allowed it to grow.

I did not know Scrimgeour well, I had seen him in passing and never dealt with him beyond shadowing Fudge for Ministry matters, but an active Head Auror seemed a strong choice under these conditions as two high profile deaths happened in the span of two weeks.

That was not even mentioning the kidnapping of Garrick Ollivander in the early evening hours from his shop – where there were witnesses!

All I could do was continue to make sure this office was ready for the full transition of power.

None of this was what I expected from my life.

Audrey, meanwhile, had been keeping up with the news from America, tending to skim the articles and mutter to herself over polling results and political analysis when she was taking her breaks. If anyone had walked in, they would have perceived her as insane or merely treating life-threatening politics as blood sport in the American manner.

I wondered if Audrey was considering a return to America now that we had a dark wizard running rampant through the country. Surely, she was? Audrey was too sensible to stay when she could go somewhere else and not have to deal with this nonsense. She probably wanted to wait until Scrimgeour graced us with his presence and hand in her notice in person. It was both a sensible and respectable option, the kind of thing I admired about her.

I looked up from my desk to find her standing in the centre of the room, her blue eyes wide over the paper in her hands.

"Oh no." Her voice was somewhere over a whisper and tinged with rage. "Oh, hell no."

I quietly got up from my desk to get a better look – swearing in the office was not normal behaviour for Audrey, (She was not Smith!). I was curious about what news I had missed with You-Know-Who causing chaos within the Ministry.

Jack Graves Victory: New MACUSA President Decided

"Oh, well, that was an upset."

She jumped at the sound of my voice and I took a half-step back, trying not to be amused as Audrey quickly collected herself to nod in agreement.

"I take it you didn't vote for him?"

"He owes me money." Audrey's tone was dry and direct as she continued to stare at the newspaper.

"He's your cousin, right?" I generally assumed one should not be inclined to mess with wider family members' finances, but I was not sure about the general standing of American family politics under capitalism.

Audrey nodded, her eyes moving over the details of the article quickly, her lips moving silently when she encountered something particularly offensive. I could see enough of the article from my vantage point to catch some highlights, but not enough to enjoy them in detail. There was a picture of Jack Graves under the headline, newspaper photos were generally a poor representation, but it showed Graves' strong nose, potentially grey hair and lined jaw before he turned away to raise his fist in victory to the crowd behind him.

I found myself a bit curious. "What's he like?"

"An unmitigated ass."

There was a rush of silent laughter from me that was gone as soon as it started. I took another half-step away from Audrey, another question forming to try and engage in some matter of conversation.

"I didn't realise you shared a name with his daughter," I moved towards my desk to return to work while complimenting myself on this being a safe comment under the circumstances. "I'm sure that was confusing at family reunions."

"Yes, our great-great grandmother was very influential in the New York social scene." Audrey responded quickly. "I can't say I know Jack's daughter very well, she's a sad kind of girl, a hermit really." That's a grim way to describe someone. "I haven't seen her in years, though I heard she's in Canada researching ancient burial sites thanks to her dad's connections." Audrey paused for a moment, her mouth tightening slightly as she seemed to collect her final thoughts. "The rich, successful side of the family doesn't want to see my side unless there is an obligation to do so. It can be embarrassing for them."

I nodded, there were relatives who did not care to interact with my family either, granted, they tended to lean more towards blood purity, but there were other cousins who were financially better off – several of my mother's wider family for example. They were outspoken about her marrying down – something we would overhear at wider Prewett family functions when people forget we were in attendance until the twins set something on fire.

We stopped going to Prewett family reunions after the fire – only seeing a select few relatives, like Auntie Muriel, mum seemed to view afternoons under her close supervision as a sort of family obligation and collective punishment for every six months of unhinged chaos.

Maybe Audrey and I were not so different in the category of being part of families that were looked down upon by more successful relations. It was an odd thing to see in another person so openly, but I had to suppose that American bluntness moved to all matters, including familial perceptions.

I was unsure if Americans understood the matter and definition of private family matters.

When I returned home to my flat that evening, I found a tawny owl sitting outside of my kitchen window giving me a hard stare as I hung up my cloak and put my work papers on the couch. It seemed disappointed I was not moving faster to alleviate the owl of its burden; Hermes was making noises of displeasure at having to witness another owl staring into his home. I was not sure if Hermes could live with another bird, but that was a problem for later. He'll calm down after I let him out to go sit on the roof of the neighbouring building and look into the streets like the king he believes himself to be.

I opened the window; the tawny owl dropped the package it was holding on the table with a thud before it flew over to Hermes' perch to pick at his leftovers and have a quick drink of water. The package was square and wrapped in nondescript brown paper and artfully tied with twine.

Clearly no response was expected.

The tawny owl flew back out the window with Hermes in pursuit, seeing his opportunity to stretch his wings and left me alone with the mysterious package. I poked it with my wand, muttering spells before turning it over to see if there was anything on it. There was just a white envelope which I took in hand and examined slowly, half expecting the thing to set itself aflame as I turned the envelope to reveal a single line on the envelope lip.

Do not open this package until July 12, 1996

I had the level of self-control, but under the current circumstances at the Ministry, adhering to such a request seemed stupid.

I settled for opening the letter first – it was the polite thing to do when one received a package.

Hey Percy!

By the time you read this, I will be out of Britain and well beyond your grasp. We're past due for a bit of a man to man talk and this is my final bit of advice as your supervisor.

I had a lot of talks with Elizabeth Fudge before she died, she always liked me for some reason and had quite a bit of pull with her husband that I wish she exercised a bit more. She was always very fond of you, seemed to be the reason Fudge kept you on after you broke it off with your folks. The fact that you are an excellent clerk came second to that connection Percy, I assure you of that, so I would take Fudge off whatever pedestal you have him on.

I wanted to personally thank you for the hours of entertainment you provided myself and Elizabeth Fudge. A solid 85% of Elizabeth and I's conversations were related to gossip and that woman was hellbent on finding you a nice girl.

I paused and put the letter down for a moment, collecting my thoughts as I stared into the corner of my kitchen.

Liz always thought herself a bit of a matchmaker.

Now, to get to the point, bragging about your job is not how you pick up women – they are far more discerning than that and the women you want in life are not going to be swayed by money and job status. Hence why I have included a very special book. I'm going to take a moment to let you open the package. Go on. I'll be here when you're done.

I was not doing that.

Glad you're back!

I do not apologize for sending you the book. You're a bit much, kind of messy honestly. And it's my last favour to Elizabeth to make sure that you get your shit together. Elizabeth thought you and Audrey might be a balancing combination. You have too much confidence, Audrey barely has enough to function. Audrey has actual social skills and political acumen; you have very little of both. Oh, don't let that get to you! Our job as men is to convince superior women that we're functional.

Keep me posted on anything you can talk about – Pearl and I love Ministry gossip!

Come see us in Spain if it gets too bad there!

Warm Regards,

Eddie Smith

Deciding I could not leave this potentially nefarious item in my possession for a stated span of time merely on Smith's word, I used every spell I could think of to check for dangerous magic in case this had come from an imposter. There were no responses from any of my spells. I took a deep breath and began to open the package.

It was a book.

I turned the book around to see the title and cover.

Elaborate gold writing was the first thing to greet me and it was the only thing I needed to see – the title alone sent a wave of heat up my neck and through the tips of my ears.

Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches

What?

Merlin's beard! The wands on the cover were sparking! Some abstract feminine shape seemed to be swooning!

What was Smith thinking!

I was horrified to open the book and also, admittedly, intrigued. Surely, this was some sort of prank? Yes! An illusion charm, specifically to amuse Smith with the idea of it from a distance!

I opened the front cover, hoping that would be the right thing to break the illusion on the book, only to find the continued sensation of a thick tome and the smell of a brand-new book (not the sort of thing one would enchant) filling my senses. There was even an inscription on the inside cover.

Oh, Merlin's pants!

Percy,

I'm not saying it's not a grey area to date in the office, but I am telling you that she doesn't answer to you. If you decide to pursue this, I think this will be a great help.

Helped me with Pearl.

Keep in touch, tell me how it goes!

Eddie

I slid the book across the kitchen table like it was on fire, watching it come to rest in the centre of the table like a disturbing mockery of a centrepiece.

The audacity! I've had a girlfriend. I'm not some thirteen-year-old who's convinced he's in love for the first time in his life because someone gave him a smile while loaning him a quill or is too dumb to know that his best friend is pining after him.

I'm not Ron for Merlin's sake!

The book sat on the table and judged me with something akin to mockery that I may have been imagining. The book was new and the letters glittered with shimmer charms in white-gold for the wands on the cover in the moonlight from the window.

Stupid. Everything we thought we knew turned out to be wrong and Eddie's worried about my love life.

Audrey had been right. She had a much clearer view of the Ministry's shortcomings than I did.

No. This was one mistake. This was one thing I had misjudged. I was right about the rest of it. Dumbledore was not trustworthy; I would not follow the word of a traumatised boy and the Ministry had the most resources to stamp out the threat of You-Know-Who once and for all.

The book mocked me from where it sat in the table centre.

I can't even put this on my bookshelf!

Oo0Oo0

July 10, 1996

I never got to confront Smith over his audacious mail. When morning arrived, he was not in the office and came sauntering into said office late, attired in casual attire more fit for an afternoon at a nice pub I was too cheap to go to alone. Smith proceeded to announce that he had quit the Ministry, effective immediately, to marry his girlfriend, a pub owner named Pearl whom he was very taken with. They were running off to Spain, Pearl's home country and essentially Smith was going to spend the war on a Spanish beach.

He left the ring with Audrey and I to admire the artistry of the set pearl as he invited us both to the wedding immediately after work and ran off to presumably invite a few people from the other offices he was friendly with.

Some people...

That afternoon, Audrey and I left the Ministry together to attend Smith's wedding. The affair was casual so he had told us to come in our work clothes, they were nice enough for a quick pub wedding and I guess it really set the timing of the affair as a wartime wedding. Eternal photos of moments of joy in the chaos.

The wedding itself was fairly not very crowded, maybe thirty people or so though there was not an empty seat in the pub that was decorated in an array of colourful roses at each table. These tables were pushed aside after the ceremony to clear space for the first dance in the centre of the pub. Audrey and I stuck together through the ceremony, we did not know anyone except Smith and we had both met Pearl when Eddie decided we needed to leave the Ministry for lunch. She was a nice woman, warm, friendly and honestly out of Smith's league after that stunt with the book.

Also, I was sure Audrey and I were the youngest people in attendance.

Even Smith's mother seemed to view him as being a bit too lucky for his own good with regards to both the woman and his job. Mostly the latter. Simone Smith had clearly noticed Audrey and I were a bit lost in this wedding business and were clearly not relatives of either side of the union; she had elected to take the pair of us under her wing for the duration. Inviting us to her table and entertaining us with gossip and her opinions on quick weddings, she clearly wanted a larger affair for her son, and sang Pearl's praises for taking him off her hands.

I found myself caressing a glass of firewhiskey while Audrey and Simone engaged in small-talk. Audrey was always good at the push and pull of meaningless conversation, she was apparently very popular in a few of the Ministry departments who dealt with the Minister's Office directly, despite her generally staying in the confines of the office. I was often asked how she was doing by the other department assistants when we were all at the same meetings.

She had a nice accent, which I'm sure was a boost.

You would not have thought that six months ago. When did it stop annoying you?

Simone admitted to wishing her Muggle relatives could have attended, but I had to agree with her assessment that the political situation was unsafe for such full relations to be enjoyed at the moment. It was not safe.

I was surprised at Audrey's admission she had never met a Muggle though – she often said America did try to blend in with the majority populace, but I guess even that had its limits. She did sing Smith's praises as a Ministry employee though – I knew enough to not say my opinions in front of Smith's mother, even if it was likely she would agree with my assessment. Though, apparently, Smith thought very highly of Audrey and I – not surprising.

"In any case, Weasley, you'll know more about this, what exactly is going on in the Ministry regarding wartime policy?" Simone was brusque and to the point.

"I know the Ministry is working to prepare several self-defence pamphlets and security guides to the wider public. I'm sure the details of the contents are being discussed in the Law Enforcement Offices."

I could not tell her the truth of the contents I had seen in those pamphlets. They contained a level of spellcraft that would not save anyone's life.

Simone scoffed, "That didn't help us last time. You think we have a chance?"

I... I did not know what to say to that. It was all too new and felt so unstable. I settled for the Ministry by-line. "We are doing everything in our power to achieve a final victory."

I needed that to be true.

Something in Simone's expression seemed to sense my moment of doubt and she pressed no further as the happy couple finally made it to the dance floor to the sound of a waltz and thunderous applause from the crowd. I risked a glance at Audrey who was watching the pair with a wide-eyed, romantic sort of expression. She looks soft and happy, ready to sigh at a moment's notice and – bloody hell Weasley!

"A shame these days," Simone's voice took my eyes from Audrey.

"What would that be?" Audrey had returned to looking at the dancers moving on the floor.

"That young people would rather sit with an old woman than dance."

Ah, I was obtuse, but not that slow on the uptake. I quickly drank the rest of my firewhiskey, letting it burn its way down my throat as I got my courage together and pretended that Simone's comment had not gotten to me and that I had not flipped through two chapters of that filthy book Smith sent me.

"Audrey, would you like to dance?"

She turned to look at me and because I could not sit still and my mind was running kilometers per second, I was already out of my chair with my hand extended to help her up. Her blue eyes moved from Simone to the empty glass of firewhiskey and then to me.

"Uh... Sure!" She slid her heels back onto her feet before taking my hand and allowing me to lead her out to the dancefloor.

I don't know what possessed me to ask Audrey to dance. It was not sensible. Maybe it was the recent chaos and shock of finding out that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really had returned. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the wedding as a bit of light in the slowly encroaching darkness outside of the pub? Or maybe it was just the wistful look in her eyes as she watched the couples on the dance floor?

Or the glass of fire whiskey I quickly drank to try and pull my courage together.

Either way, she agreed and my reasoning ceased to matter very quickly.

Audrey's hand fit so perfectly in my own, I rested my other hand on her upper back respectfully, she's still a co-worker. This is the closest we've ever been to one another and- I was not sure I ever noticed the freckles that ran across her nose before- have those always been there? Heh, her eyes are very blue, like the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean.

Get a grip, Weasley.

She's stiff and tense, as if she's never danced before. Surely, she's spent her life with a line of potential dance partners. Audrey's attractive, intelligent, warm, - except for those cold hands! - clearly there should have been a line of people wanting her time and attention. Well, I did scare off Nobby Clark, but Clark is an idiot with a dumb name and she's better off.

I led her through a few easy steps, feeling her relax slightly under my hands, but looking around the room and avoiding my eyes.

"You're very tense." The observation fell from my mouth with no prompting.

"Sorry," She loosened her tight grip on my hand and settled her attention on me, her face flushed as I led her through the steps. "Where did you learn to dance? Hogwarts?"

Audrey's skill for small talk took full control of our conversation from that moment. Soon we fell into the sort of conversation that filled in our gaps of knowledge of the other and erased assumptions. Audrey thought I was the eldest Weasley child – not awkwardly in the middle as the truth turned out to be. I found out that Audrey was a middle child with a much older brother and much younger sister.

Every word Audrey spoke made me feel as if I could listen to her cadence for hours or days and I wish she would speak more about anything. Stupid topics, politics, her childhood, anything at all. I would be content to hear any senseless silly thing she has to say. No, she's talking now, focus!

We spoke of the potential replacements for Smith.

"I would like the position," I said firmly, "but I don't have the experience yet and am content as a Junior Assistant for the moment. I'm learning a lot."

"Good, I would hate to see you go." Audrey replied as I led her through a slightly more complicated part of the dance.

Our conversations are so easy. She never pries into my family, I don't think she has a good relationship with her own, she never talks about her family in anything other than generalities. Being close to her is so calming, and she smells of plants, lavender I think -is it her soap or a perfume? No. Doesn't matter. You like it. You'll probably never know for sure and it's best to drop that line of thought before she thinks you're a freak- mother always had some lavender in her flower garden - Get it together, Weasley!

The song ended and I led Audrey back to our table where the dinner menus were appearing in puffs of smoke. The two of us resumed our seats ignoring Simone's amused expression, Audrey through engaging Simone in a conversation about the variety of foods on the menu. I was sure it was just going to be pub foods, but this was a really nice selection of fish, meat and an assortment of pies if one was not interested in wedding cake. I had met a few people who were not fond of wedding cakes – something about frosting texture.

Dinner passed in a companionable chatter as the happy couple made their rounds to visit all of their guests. Smith seemed convinced his mother was more than Audrey and I could handle, but Simone took this teasing with a haughty sort of amusement, reminding him that he was a menace and he got that from her.

Audrey left for the loo while I helped myself to another glass of firewhiskey. We had lost sight of Pearl and Smith in the crowd somewhere and it was nice to forget about the war for a few minutes while listening to the band.

A few hours later when the clock struck midnight, Audrey and I left the wedding together. She protested a bit at the idea of my escorting her to the apparition point before I could explain that it was safer to go in pairs. Which was true, I at least wanted to make sure she arrived safely to the apparition point, which should drop her right in front of her great-aunt's home. Smith ruffled my hair during our farewell.

I could feel his eyes on me as I handed Audrey her cloak, our fingers brushed in the action. As Audrey fumbled with her clasp, I risked a glance back and Smith had the audacity to wink at me! I turned my attention to my own cloak and held the door open for Audrey so we could leave Smith and his prying gaze behind.

The night was pleasingly cool and atmospheric, and we needed a topic of conversation.

"Did you see the drafts of the spell combat pamphlets the Ministry are preparing?" Great topic, Weasley. She'll be falling all over herself for that! "Fourth year level spellcraft at best."

You are committed. Just lean into it.

"I did, and agree, but most people don't study defensive magic after the fifth-year level. A lot of people don't even use it after graduation."

"Have you ever duelled anyone before?"

She's American, it's a reasonable question to ask.

"A bit. I'm not very good though."

I saw her grades on her job application.

"Didn't you get an O in your Defence class?"

"Yes, but…" Audrey paused for a moment. "You can get a good grade for understanding theory because they don't judge the practice of the thing."

"I'm sure you're more than adequate," The woman's brilliant after all. "I… I owe you an apology."

"Hm?"

"I was…" Blind? Ignorant? A list of words from a thesaurus I cannot remember right now. "You had a better read on Dumbledore and Fudge than I did. You were right that none of the political motives made sense, I didn't want to see it."

Audrey smiled at me encouragingly while I glanced around, not wanting to stare at her in a way I knew was going to be seen as very creepy. Also, someone needed to stay alert for Death Eaters. We turned a corner and I slowed my pace to better match Audrey's and lowered my voice as I began to speak again.

"The Ministry will have this… situation well in hand with Scrimgeour as Minister. I don't believe this war will last long with the head Auror in charge.

"I agree. Therefore, there is no reason for me to return to the states."

Plenty of reasons! A whole list of reasons!

"I disagree-"

"I'm not sure why you are so concerned about it, Percy."

My ears were turning red from the sheer effort of not stating my full opinion and letting Audrey speak first.

"I'm not scared."

"That's not the point." The point had been so missed it was off in France!

She looked at me with her big blue eyes wielding a questioning tilt to her mouth. "What is the point then?"

How do I say this? How do I say exactly the right thing to get my point across? I fussed with the sleeves of my robes before putting my hands in my pockets.

"I remember the first war."

Far too well.

"People disappeared. The dark mark would just appear over people's homes and law enforcement would know what was inside."

Whole families murdered in their beds.

"You have an opportunity to live safely by going home. I don't understand why you are not taking it!"

Aside from being insane. She is clearly off in her own little world and cannot comprehend what sort of danger we are all in.

"Lucinda needs me here, she's frail and needs extra help with things."

The old woman! From the way Audrey spoke of the lady, I was convinced that the old battle-axe would be absolutely fine.

"I'm sure you could find someone to help your aunt."

If she survived the last war, I'm sure she will manage this one.

"I'm sure Lucinda would prefer you were safe than possibly losing your life for tending to her."

Like a reasonable person.

"I would prefer to tend to Lucinda here then worry over her from America!"

Audrey's stubborn set to her mouth and the ferocity in her gaze was enough to convince me I would not be able to convince her to even consider leaving. At least not tonight.

We stopped at the alleyway, I glanced up and down the street to make sure we were not being watched before looking at Audrey again. This was the apparition alleyway; it had the pink cat graffiti that marked the location for wizards.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Get home safe."

I hoped she had a blind spot in her perceptive gaze to allow us to pretend that I did not want to kiss her and damn the consequences. That came out of nowhere! Smith was playing a long game in my head apparently! Gotten into it to place ideas that had no reason to be there and – She's smart (I've always liked that in girl), beautiful, her hair is just a crowning achievement (and I really like the freckles on her nose, they make her look less intense, more approachable) and... Audrey is just the nicest person I have met in a long time. An open book of emotion that I do not always feel like I'm having to guess with because her eyes are so expressive.

I must have been staring too long because Audrey's face turned a dusky pink under the lamplight.

"Thank you for the escort! Bye!" She ran down the alley and disappeared with a popping noise.

I stood and stared at the empty alley where Audrey had disappeared with the pink, smirking graffiti cat on the wall and had a horrible thought.

I might be in a little bit of trouble.

Chapter Text

July 23, 1996

With the departure of Smith to the Spanish coast, Audrey and I were left to run the office in his absence. There was not much of a change in our usual office habits aside from the fact that to two of us were completely unsupervised, but we were both responsible adults and made the best of the situation as it stood. 

Scrimgeour was still spending most of his time down with the Aurors and Law Enforcement Office, running the early stages of the war effort from his old office until he felt secure enough in his replacement to come upstairs and assume official control of the Ministry. I had only met the man in short interims and it was enough to decide we would be in good hands moving forward. Frankly, I saw former Minister Fudge more often as he assisted in the general diplomacy with the wider world that Scrimgeour reportedly had no patience for with open war on our doorstep. 

The new Minister had been making a series of adjustments at the ground level of the Ministry, upending who departments to create new ones for what he referred to as the war effort. It was just creating a more extensive filing system for Audrey and I. Through this department dismantling, Arthur Weasley had found himself removed from the Department of Muggle Artifacts and installed as the head of a new department related to detecting and confiscating counterfeit magical objects. Arthur would never come to the Minister’s Office; he knew better. He had long preferred to just send reports and, per what I had heard from Audrey’s friends in the administrative department, invite Scrimgeour down to the department meetings if they found anything interesting during the raids. 

Scrimgeour, ever the Auror, seemed to appreciate these little jaunts down where he got to admire criminal spellwork applied in new ways. Reportedly, he had a lot of questions that Arthur Weasley was happy to answer.

I had no real opinions on my father’s promotion. It was either a long-time coming or he was the only one qualified for the role. Not my business, we had too many silent encounters in the Ministry over the last year for me to give it a passing consideration.

As to the office management, Audrey and I had elected it would be wiser to take our breaks together, lunch at the very least. We were both very busy covering Smith’s workload as well as ours and these lunches were a way to make sure we both got to think about other things for a while. Audrey had a rota of topics to pull from to stop us from discussing work too much. Fun news stories and her search for a flat – which I was happy to offer advice on- and general politics. I noted that Audrey, despite her outward apathy, had a genuine interest in political matters, even if she tended to keep her own opinions on the matter close to the vest.

Except for today.

“I don’t see why Scrimgeour is still down in the Auror Department,” Audrey started during one of our lunches in the break room. The kettle was boiling contentedly on the counter behind her providing a kind of white noise to our encounter. “He should be up here doing more for the wider effort politically.”

I was unwrapping a ham sandwich I had bought from a Muggle shop coming home from work last night. My food supply was a bit trim; it was getting late; I was too tired to go to the shops. Which ended in my decision to spend my money on a frivolous, overstuffed and over-priced sandwich.

“The Aurors are going after the Death Eaters, it’s like you said at the start of this, he wants to keep his hands in the pot.”

Audrey looked both slightly annoyed and impressed that I had quoted back her own verbiage, all of it very much written into her wry expression. “I did say that, but I did not expect him to be there this long, I thought he would have handed it over to his deputy by now, unless the Aurors in this country don’t train their people for leadership.”

“They have standard procedures for training, I promise leadership is in the program.”

“Then his deputy should have been ready to begin within a couple of weeks.” Audrey was unpacking her salad while I finally settled in to try this overpriced-  

Merlin, this sandwich was amazing! 

I’ll go back after my next paycheque for another, take some notes and see what I can do to make this at the flat.

“Did you get another one of those self-defence pamphlets in the mail?”

I had to finish chewing my sandwich before I could respond. It took longer than it should have so I had to settle for nodding and hoping that was not too rude.

“If fourth year level spells are all your government believe your people to be capable of then there is a problem.” Audrey’s tone matched her opinion on the matter, dismissive and affronted on behalf of the wider populace.

“Some of those are O.W.L. level actually.” 

The Nebulus Spell created cloud cover, Oppugno to make small objects or animals attack an opponent, the hex protection spell Salvio Hexia... All of these were included in the latest pamphlet along with the healing spell Vulnera Sanentur. There were others of course for area protections, making a house or flat difficult to find, which was more advanced magic, but should be doable without too much risk to less confident wizards.

Audrey blinked slowly like a cat, trying to wrap her mind around what I just said. “One more time, please?”

Oh no. Maybe this was not normal, but I knew Audrey had a very good education and natural intelligence, so maybe we just looked... Well, maybe it was just the – fine. The erratic Hogwarts education for Defence Against the Dark Arts had gone on far too long, but I was not having that conversation today. I could save that for another day where I could sit down and give Audrey the full version, my personal opinions included, when we were not confined to our break time.

Also, it’s just embarrassing.

“Someone must have heard the complaints on the wireless.” My nightly wireless shows were full of complaints about the pamphlet’s contents. “I agree with you, but not all of us can be from an exceptionally large and dangerous country.”

“America is not overly dangerous,” Audrey scoffed, “We’re just aware that we need to be prepared for anything.”

“Some of the things you say about it sound insane.”

Audrey laughed awkwardly. “Some of those spells in the pamphlet we were teaching at Ilvermorny for third and fourth year. It was the end of the year, but still part of the criteria.”

“They were teaching you all battle-magic? You were children.”

Audrey shrugged. “A lot of Magical America is still very untouched. If you live far away from civilization, it will take time for families to get help from proper authorities. It’s to buy the students time to get somewhere safe.”

I could not imagine living like that.

“I know a few families kept up the spell practice in the summer under state doctrine. There were a few states that allowed ongoing magic practice for kids twelve and older. Some start younger if there was a Auror or licensed Law Enforcement agent in the house – many of them are qualified to teach basics. But for those without that benefit, good wand habits were instilled as first years and enforced through the remainder of school.”

“That’s mad! What about the Statute of Secrecy?”

“Most wix live in the sticks, rural areas in our own communities, not a lot of No-Majs around. They have spells up to keep them from going past the local gas station and into the community. Many of us are very isolated.”

That is completely insane. Suddenly, the comment Audrey made to Simone Smith at the wedding about never meeting a Muggle made perfect sense. I had never known that about American wizarding society, we lived side by side with Muggles, to a point, some of our communities were mixed and famous for it like Godric’s Hollow. Others lived like my family, on the far edge of muggle villages, knowing who our wizard neighbours were and generally associating with other wizards because it was easier. 

“So, what you are saying it you have lived a far more isolated life then I have?” Which was mad, Audrey came across as someone who my mother would describe as a bit cosmopolitan. Exotic and interesting for the foreignness – though I guess even wizards had their own limits on that. 

“Culturally yes. Even after the repeal of Rappaport’s Law, we still don’t really widely socialize with No-Majs. It’s improved in some places, we have more of those cross-cultural marriages now, but we’re so used to living along our own communities, not a lot of people cross over that way, we’re also very strict about what needs to happen to keep that No-Maj in the fold.”

“How so?”

“Well, sometimes, we obliviate the family. They never existed, if memories persist, then they’re labelled as missing by their families.” Audrey shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

There was an accepting tone to Audrey’s explanation that rattled me. That was no way to live, a choice between a family or someone a person loves from literally another world! That is insanity!

She must have seen it on my face, because she spoke again with a settled acceptance of the matter. “It’s not perfect, but we do still have nonmagical groups who are still hunting wizards on American soil. It’s safer for everybody involved, Scourers are still active and dangerous. We have had no real breaches of the statute of secrecy since Rappaport. Maybe we are doing something right.”

“Groups that hunt wizards are so far beyond our comprehension here, we are too busy killing each other.”

The joke (if it even was one) was a bit darker than I meant for it to be, but Audrey was laughing and that was enough to stop me from kicking myself for having no sense of humour. I found myself laughing too because she’s so infectious when she does it. Bright and giggly are the perfect descriptors. I noted Audrey had a dark, sarcastic sense of humour and filed that away for later.   

The laughter stopped and there was a quiet sense of something hanging over us. We turned our attention back to our lunches, enjoying the companionable silence. I was mentally taking notes on this sandwich with each bite while coming up with a new conversation topic. 

“Have you heard from Smith lately?” It seemed a safer topic then continuing to the point where I had to explain the seven different defence teachers I had in school.

Audrey perked up and reached into her bag. “I got one this morning actually! He’s doing well, he’s learning the hospitality business from Pearl’s father and seems really happy.”

Of course, he’s happy, he left the country!

Audrey opened the envelope to pull out a picture of Smith and his wife Pearl that she handed to me. They were standing on a beach, arms around each other and smiling at the camera. The wind in the photograph was blowing Pearl’s loose hair into her face and Smith was squinting in the sunlight. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone and his shorts made him look every part of the beach person I suspected was inside of him. 

I turned the photo over to read the message. 

If it’s too dangerous to stay, come see us!

We have plenty of room.

Pearl and Eddie

Yes. I had received a similar missive in both letter form and photograph from the happy couple, but Eddie had thrown in a lot of personal jibes regarding my... ugh. Office romance. I had no idea what he was on about, Smith had always been a loon. 

This war would be over soon and I needed to think about the future with regards to my job prospects. Seducing the office Administrative Assistant would be a career ending move that would blackmark me and put Audrey in a horrible position where her brilliant career would be snuffed out before it even began under the scarlet woman label.

My letter included an extra page of recommended Muggle pubs where neither of us would be recognized. He had categorised them by city – Merlin, this might be the greatest pub crawler I’ve ever met!

But I can’t mention any of that to Audrey! 

“Have you heard about Florian Fortescue?” Audrey asked quietly. “Kidnapped out of his own shop?” 

I nodded slowly. The pleas of his wife on the wireless in the aftermath were heart-breaking. Begging for the return of her husband – offering anything they wanted. She was a nice woman by all accounts but a part of me knew the man was dead. All of this was far too familiar to the whispered stories of the first war against You-Know-Who.

“I would not hold out any hope for his return, Audrey. This is how it was last time.”

Audrey returned to her salad with a sad, distant look in her eyes and I felt as if I had broken our unspoken lunchtime rule to not speak of the war, or our tacit understanding to try and keep things positive if it came up.

She gets to leave if it becomes too much. Most people do not have that sort of privilege. Audrey is far too American for this to be her country; I’m staying because I do not really have a choice. This is how I am choosing to fight to make this country better, I think we deserve to live in a world that is not ruled by fear and if there’s going to be a target on my back through that action, then so be it. 

I am no coward. 

Our lunch continued and we returned to the empty office and the labours that, given everything going on, seemed to be growing more pointless as time passed.     

Oo0Oo0

August 19, 1996

When I entered the office to begin the day’s work, I was greeted by a sight of a wizard from Magical Maintenance and sweet, grandmotherly voice directing him in the process of installing a small office. Directing them slightly to the left and where precisely to hang the nameplate on the door per regulations. 

Seeing Dolores Umbridge returning to the Minister’s Office was a pleasant start to the morning. 

She stood out against the white walls of the office in her robes in varying shades of violent pink. I had half-forgotten the pink bow she wore in her hair. Well, in any case, it made her easier to find if I needed anything from her, she was a very short woman and being distinctly dressed made her hard to miss in the crowds. Also, I suspected she also very much liked the colour besides.

Umbridge turned towards me, her smile still perfectly in place. “Oh, Mr. Weasley, lovely to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Madam Umbridge. Welcome back.”

I had fond memories of working with Madam Umbridge when I first came up to the Minister’s office. Those three months before she was sent to Hogwarts to teach were very instructional for me. She taught me about the filing system, gave me guidance through new tasks, teaching me how to do them with the most efficiency and made sure I knew who all of the frequent visitors to the Minister’s Office were by sight, internal and international. She frequently tested me on that subject in particular and I engaged in regular reviews at home as the Ministry shifted itself for the war effort. Madam Umbridge took a lot of pleasure in filling in the gaps left by my time in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and dis praise me for how efficiently I had run the department in Crouch’s absence.

If I was inclined to be direct on the matter, Madam Umbridge and Mr. Crouch were the best instructors I could have had for my early career.  

The doorplate was set in place as the Minister emerged from his office to admire the addition of a new separate office. Scrimgeour was leaning on his cane and warmly greeted the workers who were beginning the final spell adjustments for the room addition. I was not sure I could imagine the time this would have taken without magic.

“I’ve read those reports of your time at Hogwarts, Dolores,” Scrimgeour began, “I was wondering if you could tell me more about that.”

“Happily, Minister!” Umbridge seemed to straighten and puff herself up slightly at the opportunity. “The children were defiant, unruly and led by Harry Potter’s example.”

“Yes, yes, I am not surprised after that display in the Department of Mysteries before the end of term.” Scrimgeour grumbled, the sound rumbled through his throat like a growl. “But one cannot deny the boy has leadership skills.”

“With all due respect Minister,” Madam Umbridge began, “those very skills make him a threat to the unity you seek for this nation. Potter is divisive, anti-government and rebellious in a way that makes him dangerous to your efforts. Hogwarts itself is an unmanageable place, a danger to the students and the staff are combative and as under Dumbledore’s sway as Potter.”

I nodded along with Umbridge and glanced over at the door to find Audrey standing in the doorway taking in these sudden changes to these office with a slightly pursed expression and a brow furrowed in a slight confusion.

Scrimgeour made a noise from somewhere in his throat that made Audrey fully snap to attention.

“Audrey, come meet Madam Umbridge,” the Minister’s voice echoed across the room.

Audrey crossed the room in a few quick steps to come stand in front of Umbridge who looked her up and down appraisingly before she spoke. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Madam Umbridge.” Audrey wore a smile of such warmth and friendliness I had to force my gaze back to Scrimgeour who was beginning to speak with me about scheduling. “I’ve heard so many good things about you and all you’ve accomplished in the Improper Use of Magic Office, and what you’ve done at Hogwarts of course.”

Oh, this is off to a grand start! I was sure Madam Umbridge and Audrey would get along perfectly.