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Chapter Text

Percy stood awkwardly facing a row of lifts, debating whether he could delay his arrival any longer. It was nearing six o’clock, and most of the office workers had departed, leaving an empty foyer in what was usually a bustling Ministry of Magic. A set of golden grilles opened, and a couple of Aurors stepped out. One of them, a young man with shaggy brown hair, waved Percy over. 

“It’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Percy replied, managing a weak smile as he willed his legs to move. He stepped past the Aurors into the now vacant lift. The grilles snapped shut with a distinct click, and he started to descend. 

Percy adjusted his blazer nervously, smoothing the collar in a repetitive motion. His red hair contrasted sharply against his pale skin. After weeks of restless nights, dark circles had developed under his eyes. He removed his horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed his face in a feeble attempt to fend off the tiredness. 

It had been two weeks since the inquiry—a rather blunt series of questions he’d rather forget. 

His ex-boss, Mr. Crouch, had taken a leave of absence since November last year, working from home and only delegating tasks through owls. At that time, Percy had just been promoted to Crouch’s Personal Assistant and was suddenly required to serve as the impromptu Head of the Department. The office was (and still is) a chaotic mess. They had to deal with the aftermath of the World Cup and manage the arrangements for the revived Triwizard Tournament without easy access to their actual Department Head. 

He had tried multiple times to Floo call Mr. Crouch but was consistently rebuffed. Even his longer-standing co-workers attempted to contact him without any success. Percy had repeatedly spoken to his superiors about it, but they brushed him off. Some considered him too junior to take seriously, but most had preconceived notions about him based solely on his association with his father. 

The Weasley name was somewhat of a joke in the Ministry, but he was actively working to change that. There were even days when he didn’t bother correcting others when they mispronounced his surname because, at least then, they were treating him as a separate person. 

Ever since the inquiry, he’d been put on light duties. Percy was getting rather annoyed running office errands and wanted to go back to writing reports or conversing with diplomats. It didn’t help that his co-workers often dumped their work on his desk, leaving him weeks behind schedule. 

His boredom was alleviated when, earlier that afternoon, he received a sealed memo with the insignia of the Minister of Magic stamped in the corner. He’d been scheduled for a meeting with his new Department Head, Mr. Dalloway, and Minister Fudge. It was difficult to push past his nerves about what this would mean for his career at the Ministry. 

His thoughts drifted back to Mr. Crouch. He wondered what happened to him. An internal investigation revealed that his home had been abandoned sometime around the middle of May, but he had been ill for longer than that. 

Initially, Percy thought Mr. Crouch was suffering from exhaustion or that his age was catching up to him. However, as the months passed, it became clear that things were unlikely to improve. He grew concerned that his boss was concealing something—that this mysterious illness might be terminal or that he had experienced a mental breakdown. It was a well-known topic of gossip that Mr. Crouch had been the one to imprison his son for being a Death Eater. Such an event would have undoubtedly impacted his mental well-being. 

The reminder about Crouch Jr. caused his breath to hitch as the unwelcome image of Cedric Diggory invaded his mind. 

Cedric Diggory—what a tragedy. 

Although he had only known him briefly, Cedric made an impact. He first introduced himself during Percy’s final year at Hogwarts; he was Head Boy, of course, and Cedric had just entered his fifth year, becoming a newly elected Prefect. He’d seen him around the school prior to that (especially during Quidditch matches), but it wasn’t until they shared the same responsibility that he got to know him personally. Cedric was kind and helpful and genuinely cared about his fellow classmates. 

His death was unexpected, and Percy couldn’t quite shake the sorrow from his heart. However, now was not the time or place to dwell on such feelings. 

After the debacle at Hogwarts and the failed Triwizard Tournament, it was revealed that Crouch Jr. was not only alive but also responsible for that night’s events. There was much speculation regarding Mr. Crouch's involvement and how accountable he was. However, with the man absent for questioning and Crouch Jr. incapacitated, there wasn’t much evidence to pursue—only unsubstantiated rumours and tall tales, including one from Dumbledore himself. 

Percy frowned. The Headmaster’s claim was outrageous: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned and orchestrated the entire attack. It was difficult to believe, to put it mildly. 

Minister Fudge had made it clear that it couldn’t possibly be true. There was no physical evidence, and the only witness who could talk about it was Harry Potter, who had a reputation for being unreliable and suffering from some kind of head condition.

He’d known Harry for years as his brother’s best friend and a fellow Gryffindor housemate. The boy was nice enough, a little flippant with school rules, but overall, a good kid. However, he was undoubtedly troubled. Too many times, he had caught him out of bed during his Prefect duties. Harry had a bad habit of wandering the dorms when he couldn’t sleep, using the age-old excuse that his scar was bothering him. This was a common occurrence, according to his brother, Ron. 

There was also that one time in his seventh year, during Sirius Black's escape, when Harry fainted. Apparently, the proximity of the dementors severely affected him. Perhaps he didn’t have enough happiness to fend them off? 

Not for the first time, Percy wondered about the kind of home life Harry had experienced. He knew he was raised by Muggles—not particularly nice ones, judging by how the twins described them. Bars on the windows and a padlocked bedroom door? Fred and George were known for exaggerating, but he couldn’t imagine how dreadful his childhood must have been. 

From what he knew, Harry had led a very unfortunate life. First, the death of his parents, followed by the death of a schoolmate. After such a traumatic event, was it any surprise that he would snap like that? Envisioning You-Know-Who as the one who killed Cedric instead of Crouch Jr. The mind played awful tricks under duress. Yet, Dumbledore not only believed his story but shouted it at the top of his lungs. He just couldn’t understand it. 

There was once a time when he idolised Dumbledore, believing him to be the greatest wizard in the world. However, his faith was shaken when his sister, Ginny, was taken into the Chamber of Secrets during his sixth year. Dumbledore had allowed an ancient monster to roam the halls for months, petrifying the students and his girlfriend, Penelope. Ever since then, he could never fully trust the man. 

Now Cedric, another student under the Headmaster’s care, was dead, while his supposed friend, Alastor Moody, had been impersonated by a Death Eater for an entire year. How could the most powerful wizard of the time not realise? How could he have allowed this tragedy to occur? It didn’t make any sense. 

A robotic female voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Level one: Office of the Minister of Magic and support staff.”

The lift grilles opened, and Percy stepped out, quickly schooling his face into an emotionless mask.

He entered a large, ornate room adorned with delicate gold trimmings. Hanging high along the walls were the portraits of previous Ministers. Some of them waved as he passed, while others chatted among themselves.

A circular desk sat squarely in the centre of the room. An assistant sat at it, magicking documents into the surrounding offices. She looked up at Percy as he approached. 

“Hello, Mr. Weasley. Minister Fudge is expecting you. Please have a seat.”

She pointed her wand at a set of oak doors behind her, which sprang open, inviting him in. Percy thanked her and walked into the antechamber, sitting on a plush bench. Sneaking a quick peek at his watch, he noted that it was precisely six o’clock—right on time. 

The door to his left cracked open, and the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Madam Umbridge, peered out at him. She wore a garish pink ensemble and spoke in a sickly, sweet voice.

“Percy Weasley, is it? The Minister is waiting. Close the door behind you.”

Percy followed her instructions and entered the Minister of Magic’s office. It was beautifully decorated. A mahogany desk sat in front of an alcove framed by white marble pillars. To the right, a ceiling-high window stretched across half the room, depicting a magnificent sunset. The Magical Maintenance team had truly outdone themselves with the enchantment. 

To his left sat Fudge, wearing his standard pinstriped cloak, and next to him was his Department Head, Mr. Dalloway, dressed in a deep navy robe. Both sat around an ornate fireplace beside a table filled with refreshments and tea. Umbridge had already taken the seat next to the Minister, leaving only one armchair for him. Its back rested against the flames, casting it in shadow. He supposed that this arrangement was intended to seem cosy and welcoming, but he only felt a sense of foreboding about what they wanted to discuss. 

“Good afternoon, Minister Fudge, Madam Umbridge. It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Dalloway. I hope you are all doing well?” Percy said politely. 

“Yes, indeed, given the circumstances,” replied Fudge, “Absolutely dreadful, what happened to that Diggory boy. His father, Amos—you might know him? He works in Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures—anyway, Amos held the wake a few days ago. My deepest condolences to the family.”

Percy opened his mouth to sympathise, but the words caught in his throat. 

“Terrible tragedy,” said Fudge, not waiting for a response. “It’s a shame that some are using his death to further their own agenda, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Of course, that’s—” Percy began but was interrupted by Fudge. 

“I suppose you’ve heard about the latest rumour Dumbledore’s spreading?”

“Well, I…” started Percy, unsure how to respond. 

“You-Know-Who procuring an army,” Fudge said incredulously. “The audacity! First, it’s befriending giants, then removing the Dementors. What a load of crock!” 

Percy nodded as if it wasn’t the first time he’d heard such gossip. 

“But enough about that,” continued Fudge, “We’re here to talk about you, Percy.”

He felt his hands trembling nervously and slid them discreetly beneath his legs. 

“How can I help? Your memo didn’t mention the topic of today’s meeting,” Percy inquired. 

Mr. Dalloway finally made his presence known by lifting his cup of tea from the table. “Yes, well, we’ve been discussing how we can best utilise you,” he said, “You’re a hard worker and clearly capable. Running a department for half the year at what, nineteen, twenty years old?”

“I’m eighteen, nineteen in August,” replied Percy. 

“Quite impressive,” added Umbridge, although it felt rather inauthentic. 

“I’ve gone through the memos you sent to your supervisors during that period,” continued Mr. Dalloway, “You certainly maintained a comprehensive report. I know how fortunate the department was to have such a dedicated employee.”

Percy brimmed with pride at the compliment but was surprised that anyone had bothered to keep his weekly updates. He’d assumed they were discarded, as he never received any acknowledgement that they had been read. 

Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of dread struck him like a troll. 

“Was?” asked Percy.

“Ah, you’re quick to catch on,” Mr. Dalloway smiled, “Then let me be the first to congratulate you. We’re offering you a promotion to a new position that you’ll find quite enjoyable.”

Before he could inquire about the position, Fudge interrupted. 

“You’ll be appointed Hogwarts’ new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in the upcoming school year.”

Percy was speechless. Among all the positions he thought he would be offered, a professor wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” continued Fudge, “What about Dumbledore? Won’t he appoint his own professor? Normally, you’d be right, but we’re working on adding a new law that’ll bypass that issue. It’s still being drafted, but we have enough votes to pass it. Dolores, do you have a copy?”

Umbridge shuffled through several papers and found what she was looking for. With a smug smile on her face, she read the passage aloud.

“Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two establishes that in the event of the Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry of Magic has the power to appoint an appropriate person.”

“And I’m that person?” queried Percy, hardly believing what he heard. 

“Don’t be so modest,” Mr. Dalloway lightly scolded. “We have your resume right here. You’ve demonstrated tremendous leadership skills over the past year as acting Department Head, and your educational record is pristine. Twelve N.E.W.T.s, Head Boy, and top grades in all your subjects—that’s quite an accomplishment.”

“I mean, that’s true, but—”

Percy was cut off. 

“But nothing,” said Mr. Dalloway. “You only need a Mastery or an Outstanding N.E.W.T. to teach a subject, which you have more than achieved. There’s no age limit for teaching at Hogwarts. Yes, you’d be the youngest professor in the last two hundred-odd years, but there’s no regulation against it.”

His mouth felt dry. 

“I-I’ve never taught before,” Percy offered another excuse. “I mean, I tutored my classmates and some of the younger years when I attended, but not to a professional standard.”

Fudge signalled to Umbridge, who then shuffled through her papers once more, leaning over the refreshment table.  

“If it makes you feel better, we’ll enrol you in a Teaching Course to prepare you before the term begins. We have plenty of resources available at the Ministry. I’m sure the Department of Magical Education can help set you up for success,” said Fudge. 

Percy paused to collect his thoughts. Things were happening too quickly.

“I appreciate that you considered me first for the role, but I cannot, in good faith, accept the position.”

The smile faded from Fudge’s face. “That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.”

“I-I’m sorry, Minister,” said Percy, “Surely, there’s a better candidate?”

“I think you ought to reconsider your answer,” directed Mr. Dalloway. 

Percy felt pressured by his superiors. He desired nothing more than to be back in the Ministry lobby before the meeting even began. 

After noticing his hesitation, Umbridge leaned forward and pushed a tray of sandwiches toward him. “Why don’t you have a sandwich, Percy?” she asked. “It’ll help clear your mind.”

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

“I must insist.”

Percy looked down and noticed a folder tucked beneath the tray. Umbridge must have placed it there earlier. Inside were several photos. He spotted a man with very familiar red hair in the corner of one.

His stomach dropped.

They were of his father at The Burrow. Most showed him tinkering with Muggle devices, including the (now missing) family Ford Anglia. There were more pictures of the car flying over London. 

“Your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, correct?” Fudge didn’t wait for a response. “It would be a shame if he were found breaking the same laws he regulates. That’s quite a serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy. There may even be some Azkaban time involved.”

His breathing quickened. He didn’t know what to do. 

Percy glanced at Mr. Dalloway, searching for any signs of shock at the blatant threat from the Minister. The man was sipping his cup of tea, behaving as if Fudge had simply inquired about the weather instead of revealing a folder filled with blackmail. 

He was screwed. 

“Perhaps you’re right, Minister,” said Percy. “It would be hard to refuse such an offer.” He was able to keep his voice steady despite the tightness in his throat. 

“I’m glad you’ve come around, boy,” a smarmy smile stretched across Fudge’s face, “Now, there are just a couple of caveats we need to work out. You see, Dumbledore has been undermining my position as Minister, and I'm afraid he’s involved his poor students in it. You’ll need to monitor for such activities at Hogwarts. It just so happens that Potter will also be one of your students. I advise keeping a close eye on him and letting me know if he spouts any more of his nonsense.”

Percy’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I understand. Is there anything else?”

“Dolores will provide you with all the necessary information for the job and arrange an appointment tomorrow with the Department of Magical Education. I’m sure I don’t need to emphasise how important your assistance is, Percy. I can tell you’re a proper Ministry man.”

Fudge extended his hand, and Percy shook it reluctantly. 

“We’ll keep in touch,” said Fudge. “And one last thing: congratulations, Percy.” 

Sometime later, Percy had his arms full of documents that Umbridge had handed him, along with a schedule for his training. It was past seven o’clock. His family would be finishing dinner at The Burrow right about now. He knew he should Apparate home, but he needed the extra time to compose himself. Taking a few deep breaths, he let his mind calm before heading towards the fireplaces. 

Stepping out of the green flames, he entered the chaotic whirlwind that was his family. His mother washed the dishes while his siblings scrambled to pack their trunks. 

Oh, he’d almost forgotten. 

They were supposed to leave for a hidden hideaway tonight at Dumbledore's request. He didn’t know all the details, not even the location, only that the Fidelius Charm protected it. In all honesty, he was only tagging along because he was worried about his family’s safety. Who knew what kind of dangers they were being dragged into?

His mother was the first to notice his arrival, rushing to greet him in the lounge room. 

“Percy! Where have you been?!” she shouted, causing the rest of the household to pause their packing and look at him. 

He held the documents tightly against his chest, fearing his hands wouldn't remain steady. Just outside the room, the stairs creaked. His father must’ve heard the commotion.

“You should've been home over an hour ago! They work you too hard in that department of yours. You’ve got to stop agreeing to stay late. It’s not good for your health,” his mother scolded. 

“Mum—” Percy tried to cut in.

“I saved you dinner. You look far too skinny these days. I hope you’re eating enough. They better not be forcing you to work through your break.”

“But Mum, I—”

“You better hurry and eat. We’ll be leaving soon. Have you packed? Remember to take only the essentials and your work supplies. That goes for the lot of you.”

A collective groan arose from his siblings. His father finally stepped over and rested a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. 

“Molly, let the boy breathe. You alright there, son?” 

“Can I speak with both of you privately for a moment?” asked Percy, glancing at his brothers. 

Ron and Ginny snickered as the twins mischievously eyed the paperwork in his hands. He needed to discuss the meeting with his parents without his siblings interfering.  

“Let’s head to the kitchen then,” Arthur directed. 

Not wasting any time, Percy walked from his spot in front of the fireplace and past the half-packed trunks. Unfortunately, he stepped on something round and barely caught himself before stumbling. It was some kind of device that one of the twins had left out. 

“Oi! Watch it!” George yelled. “We don’t need your big feet crushing our merchandise.”

Percy didn’t have the energy to appear affronted. 

“What? No snide comment from Mr. Ministry Big Shot? Must’ve been a real bad day at the office,” Fred teased. 

“That’s enough, boys!” snapped Molly. “Finish your packing, and I’d better not see any more of that junk lying around.”

Percy huffed and swiftly dumped his paperwork onto the kitchen table. His parents followed closely behind, closing the door before the twins could complain. 

“So, what’s this about?” Arthur asked, taking a seat at the table. 

“I had a meeting with the Minister of Magic today,” Percy said hesitantly. 

He watched his father closely, wondering how he’d react. Did he already know? Was he also being blackmailed? His father’s eyes widened in surprise before a thoughtful expression settled on his face. So, he wasn’t aware.

His mother, however, jumped up and immediately wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, Perce,” cried Molly, “You haven’t lost your job, have you?”

“No, worse,” he grimaced, “I’ve been promoted.”

He never thought he would be upset about a promotion. His parents shared the same sentiment, as Molly unexpectedly let him go. 

“A promotion? But isn’t that good news?” she asked.

Percy took a deep breath before explaining his predicament. 

“The Minister no longer trusts Dumbledore. Not after everything he’s been saying since Cedric’s death about You-Know-Who, Potter, and all that. He, um, wants a Ministry employee to take a teaching position at Hogwarts to keep an eye on things.”

“And that’s you?” his father asked incredulously. 

A pinprick of hurt sliced Percy’s heart. 

“Yes… but I didn’t have much of a choice,” he lamented.

“You know why he’s chosen you, right?” said Arthur, his expression darkening. “He wants to use you to spy on Dumbledore and provide him with information about the Order. How could you agree to this?”

Percy’s chest burned with rage.

Agreed? When did he say he agreed?

He stepped toward his father, who stood up just as quickly, causing the wooden chair to fall backwards. 

“If you think I’d willingly agree, then you don’t know me at all!” yelled Percy. 

“Well, didn’t you?!” spat Arthur. 

Before the situation could escalate, Molly stepped between the two. “Stop that! Sit down, Arthur. Let’s talk this out like adults.”

“I’ve always known you were ambitious,” Arthur said, shoving his finger into Percy’s face. “But to sell out your own fam—”

“I DID IT FOR YOU!!” screamed Percy, completely losing control of his temper. “Fudge has a folder filled with incriminating photos of your enchanted Muggle crap. He’s threatened to have you arrested! To send you to Azkaban!” 

His father’s face paled. “You’re mistaken. I-I specifically ensured there was a loophole in the law. The Minister wouldn’t have any authority to… he couldn’t send me to Azkaban.”

“He made it very clear to me what his intentions were.”

“Then you’ve fallen for his bait,” excused Arthur, unwilling to accept blame. “He’s using you, Percy, and you’re too oblivious to realise it.”

“You’re the one who can’t see the truth!” he shouted. Something inside Percy snapped, and years of frustration poured out. “You and your stupid obsession with Muggles ruined us. Why couldn’t you just let it go like Mum asked?!”

“That’s not true!” Arthur denied. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Percy let out a hollow laugh. 

“Oh, I think I do. You were the one who allowed us to suffer—to be poor. All because you lacked the ambition to strive for more. You were content to simply waste away in your little cubicle as long as you could play with your Muggle toys.”

“Please, Percy—” his mother begged. 

He shouted over her. 

“Who cares if Percy doesn’t have robes that fit him? Who cares if Ron doesn’t have a new wand? Who cares if—”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!!” roared his father. “I will not be spoken to like that in my own house!”

“Stop it! Both of you, stop!” cried his mother, tears streaming down her face.

Both men breathed heavily, glaring at each other around his sobbing mother. No one spoke for a moment. Finally, his father broke the silence and turned away from Percy. 

“I’m leaving.”

“Arthur, please! We can still talk about this,” pleaded Molly.

“No, I’m done with him. If he doesn’t want to be my son, then fine, he’s no longer my son. I’ll be at Headquarters.” 

Percy watched as his father yanked open the kitchen door, causing all four of his siblings to tumble out of the way. It shouldn’t have surprised him that they had been listening in on the argument. He wondered how much of the conversation they had heard. 

A brown trunk flew into Arthur’s waiting hand before he stormed out the front door. He paused briefly in the doorway, facing away from Percy.

“And Percy, I better not see you there.” 

And with that, his father Disapparated with a loud crack.

All eyes turned to Percy. He felt a strange, hollow sensation at his father’s departure. It had happened so quickly that his mind hadn’t caught up to reality.  

“What was that about!? What did you do?” Ron demanded. 

“Why’d you yell that stuff about Dad? What’s going on?” asked Ginny, looking from Percy to her mother and feeling conflicted. 

He couldn’t answer them. 

“You must’ve done something wrong,” snapped Ron. “Now Dad’s gone who knows where!? And look, you made Mum cry!”

His brother wrapped an arm around their sobbing mother as she rummaged through her apron for a handkerchief. 

“Mum, where’s Dad gone?” Ginny asked. 

Molly dabbed at her face with a handkerchief, wiping away the tears. 

“He’s at the hideaway we’re going to tonight,” she said, pausing to clear her throat to regain her composure. “Dumbledore’s supposed to arrive soon to take us.”

A loud shout echoed from the kitchen, and then the twins stormed back into the lounge room. 

“You’re going to be our Defence Against the Dark Arts professor!? Like hell, you are!” spat George. 

They had riffled through the paperwork he left on the table. It was enough to snap Percy out of his daze. 

“Don’t touch that.”

“Why don’t you make us?!” yelled Fred. 

Percy flicked his wand, summoning the papers into his free hand. The twins took out their wands to retaliate. 

Before they could cast a spell, Professor Dumbledore knocked on the open front door, announcing his arrival. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

Everyone froze. Percy glanced from his puffy-eyed mother to his furious siblings. The twins quickly tucked their wands away, feigning innocence. 

The Headmaster arrived at the perfect moment. 

“Oh, Albus. I'm sorry. We were just finishing our packing,” Molly lied. “Come on, kids, we’ve got to hurry now.”

“But Mum...” Fred said, glaring daggers at Percy. 

“No buts. We’re supposed to be leaving.”

His siblings reluctantly walked away to continue packing their trunks while the twins whispered a stream of insults under their breath. Dumbledore approached Percy and his mother, his deep orange cloak trailing behind him. 

“We have a bit of a situation,” she told Dumbledore.

“Mum, I don’t think we should involve him,” said Percy. 

He couldn’t trust the man, especially for something personal like this. 

“Nonsense, he’ll help you. Won’t you, Albus?”

“I’ll certainly try,” said Dumbledore. “Why don’t you tell me all about it while your siblings pack?”

“Fine,” Percy huffed, allowing the Headmaster to guide him back into the kitchen. His mother remained behind, watching his siblings closely. 

Once the door closed, Dumbledore cast the Imperturbable Charm to prevent eavesdroppers. Percy kicked himself for not applying it earlier, embarrassed that it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Perhaps his siblings wouldn’t have jumped to the wrong conclusion if they hadn’t overheard him yelling at their father. 

A minute passed, with neither man speaking. The silence was palpable between them. 

“It usually helps if you start from the beginning,” said Dumbledore. 

“I don’t want to make things worse,” Percy hesitated, “I’m in a tricky spot right now.” 

“Nothing said here will be repeated.”

“It’s difficult to trust you,” the truth slipped out before Percy could stop himself. “I-I didn’t mean to say that. You’re not—What I meant to say was that, um…”

“I understand,” said Dumbledore. “You’ve always been well-guarded, even as a student at Hogwarts.”

He didn’t have much of a choice. The Headmaster was the only one who could help him now. With a deep breath, Percy admitted everything: about the meeting with the Minister, his job offer, and how he was coerced into accepting it. 

“And when I told my parents, they didn’t take it well. You’ll probably hear all about it from them. They never give me the benefit of the doubt, always assuming the worst. You know, Dad actually thought I’d betray the family for a promotion,” Percy frowned.

The hurt from his father’s words settled in his chest.

You’re not my son anymore. 

Dumbledore cast a sympathetic glance over his half-moon spectacles.

“It doesn’t matter,” continued Percy. “All this is void if you can hire your own Defence Against the Dark Arts professor before the law passes. Then maybe they’ll abandon this inane plan of theirs to use me to infiltrate Hogwarts. Please, tell me you’ve got someone?”

“I don’t currently have anyone lined up for the post, but don't fret—I’m sure I’ll be able to find a suitable candidate in time,” Dumbledore reassured him. 

“Comforting,” Percy deadpanned. 

“Until then, you’ll need to continue the training they’ve arranged for you. You mustn’t let them know you’ve spoken to me. Do you know how much time we have?” asked Dumbledore. 

“Madam Umbridge didn’t mention any dates, but based on what I've seen, it shouldn’t take more than a week to pass the law. I hope that’s enough for you.”

“It’ll have to do. Now, for the more pressing question: are you coming to Headquarters with your family? You’re not required to join the Order to be there, but it does provide great protection.”

“I can’t,” Percy sighed, “Dad doesn’t want me there.”

“Are you sure? I can speak with Arthur,” suggested Dumbledore. 

“No. I don’t know what the Order does or how it relates to your stories about You-Know-Who, but the less I know, the better. That way, you can be sure I'm not leaking any information to the Minister.”

“Stories?” Dumbledore protested. “You can’t remain ignorant of this, Percy. What Harry witnessed that night is true: Voldemort has returned.”

Percy visibly flinched at the mention of Voldemort. He didn’t want to get into another argument. 

“I believe Harry thinks he was there. I just don’t know why you believe that. He’s been dead for thirteen years, and there’s no tangible proof he’s returned,” argued Percy. 

“There have always been signs if you were looking for them. You’re too young to truly understand what it was like during the war. Tangible proof wasn’t always something we could rely on,” lectured Dumbledore. 

“You’re asking me to take your word against the entirety of the Ministry. They conducted an investigation. They checked out that graveyard you mentioned. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement hasn’t found anything. You’ve given me nothing.”

Percy was getting frustrated with the conversation. He could tell that Dumbledore had expected him to share all the same beliefs as his family, but he needed the facts first—not a story or a feeling, but actual, physical evidence. 

“There’s more happening behind the scenes than you realise,” scolded Dumbledore. “Today, you’ve only caught a small glimpse of the corrupt nature of the Minister and his lackeys. Before long, there will be another war, and this time, you won’t have the benefit of ignorance to shield you.”

Angry red splotches crept up Percy’s neck. “I never wanted to be involved in any of this,” he hissed at Dumbledore. 

“Who said we get a choice?”

Percy took a deep breath, feeling all the fight leave his body. Dumbledore removed the Imperturbable Charm, sensing that the conversation was over. 

“I’ll be taking your family to Headquarters tonight. You’re welcome to join us at any time.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stay here.” 

Percy watched as Dumbledore re-entered the lounge room. His mother had managed the impossible and had all his siblings packed and ready to depart. They were lined up in front of the fireplace, Floo Powder at the ready. After a brief instruction from Dumbledore, his brothers and sister grabbed their trunks and Flooed away in a flash of green flames. None of them said goodbye. 

His mother had stayed behind. She hesitantly approached him but relaxed when he opened his arms to hug her. Guilt pressed on his chest. He never meant to make her cry. 

“Oh, Perce. We’ll get this sorted out; don’t you worry. Your father will have forgotten all about it by morning. He just needed to blow off a bit of steam.”

“Sure, Mum.”

“Make sure to take care of yourself, alright? Floo call me when you can. Has Dumbledore given you the address?” she asked. 

He nodded. Then, with a final goodbye, his mother Flooed away, leaving only Dumbledore behind. He ignored the pointed look the Headmaster gave him—a mixture of pity and wariness. 

“Send me an owl if anything changes,” requested Dumbledore. “Goodnight, Percy.”

Then he was gone. He’d never seen The Burrow so empty before. 

Back in the kitchen, he placed his dinner under a Stasis Charm. He couldn’t stomach any food at the moment.

He observed the Weasley Family Clock on the wall as his mother’s golden hand moved from “travelling” to “lost”, joining the rest of his siblings and father. The Fidelius Charm kept them hidden, even from tracking magic. His own hand stood apart from the others, positioned at “home”. He felt a rising sense of loneliness but squashed the feeling down. 

Chapter Text

Sunlight seeped through the window, casting its rays onto Percy’s face. He could see the bright light through his eyelids, urging him to open his eyes. It was enough of a disturbance to rouse him fully from the meagre sleep he’d managed. He would need to talk to his girlfriend, Penelope, and acquire some Dreamless Sleep Potion. She interned at St. Mungo’s as a Healer and had easy access to such draughts. 

The house was eerily silent for a Friday morning. Usually, at this time, his mother would be up cooking breakfast or feeding the chickens while his father would be reading the Daily Prophet. If his siblings were home (and awake at such an early hour), they’d be happily chatting or making a ruckus. The twins, especially, were always causing some sort of explosion. Now, however, he'd finally gained the peace he’d always wanted. 

While eating at the kitchen table, Hermes, his owl, delivered the mail. He browsed his letters, periodically glancing up at the Weasley Clock, checking if any of his family had left Headquarters. None of them had moved from “lost”. He guessed it was too early for them to leave, especially as his father didn’t start until nine o’clock.

He wondered whether Arthur would treat him differently at work. Surely, he’d want to talk about the argument they had last night or at least discuss the blackmail.

And he’d have the opportunity to do so because today, Percy would officially leave his department to meet his trainer in the Department of Magical Education. Umbridge had assigned a woman named Mrs. Autumn Williams, who was part of the Apprenticeship and Internship Division, otherwise known as A.I.D. This division typically assisted those seeking higher education or specialisation in a particular field.

During his years at Hogwarts, Percy considered pursuing a Transfiguration Mastery, as it was his favourite subject and the magic he felt most attuned to. He would have needed to study under a Master assigned by A.I.D., but ultimately, he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Ministry instead. However, it was days like today when he wondered if he had made the right decision. 

Back in his room, he opened his trunk and changed into the clothes he would’ve brought to Headquarters. Since he was ahead of schedule, he decided to go to the Ministry early. He still needed to clear his desk and collect any belongings he’d left in the office.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into Mr. Dalloway. He had a lot to say to the man who stood by and did nothing while the Minister blackmailed him. During the short time he’d known him, he thought he had more integrity than that. 

With a soft pop, Percy Apparated into the Ministry Atrium on the far side of the fountain. There were hardly any people around, just a few early risers like himself. For a moment, he paused and watched the jets of water shoot from the golden statues. When he first joined the Ministry, his co-workers had told him that tossing a coin in the fountain was good luck. One of them mentioned doing it every time he had a performance review. Right now, he needed all the luck he could get. 

He tossed a single silver Sickle and watched it settle at the bottom of the pool. Then, he turned around and made his way to the fifth level, to the Department of International Magical Cooperation. 

He stepped out of the lift, past the trading centre, and entered the primary office. It had the same layout as the marbled floors on level one but without the extra gold trimmings or extravagant furnishings. Instead, there was a large globe sculpture of the Earth. Each country featured several glowing sections representing its magical populace. Some countries, like the United Kingdom, lit up like a Christmas tree, while others, like Australia, only glowed along the coast where the majority of the population resided. 

Thankfully, the department was empty. He entered his office cubicle, transfigured a blank sheet of parchment into a sturdy cardboard box, and began packing his belongings. He floated his unfinished reports and assignments onto his co-workers’ desks, writing a quick memo apologising for his hasty departure. 

As he opened another drawer in his desk, he felt someone's presence behind him. 

“Mr. Weasley, you’re here early,” said Mr. Dalloway. 

Percy rolled his eyes internally. “I could say the same thing,” he said, unamused.

“Perks of being Department Head. You can set your own hours.”

Percy emptied the drawer's contents into his box, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. 

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Percy asked, growing more tense. 

Mr. Dalloway leaned against the desk, encroaching on his space.

“I wanted to see you off before you left. It might surprise you, but I wasn’t lying when I said you were a good worker. It’s a shame to let you go. You were a real asset.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” Percy spat, his temper flaring. “You could’ve vouched for me or told them I was too invaluable to leave!”

“We each have our role to play, Mr. Weasley, and yours is whatever the Minister wants,” said Mr. Dalloway, stepping away from the door. 

“I thought you were better than this,” scoffed Percy. 

“How’d you think I became Department Head?” Mr. Dalloway laughed. “Minister Fudge is a very generous man. I implore you to do exactly as he asks from now on.”

“And if I don’t?” 

Percy’s body screamed at him to shut up and leave. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as his hands trembled in response. 

Mr. Dalloway tilted his head. “I think you know what will happen.”

His father would be sent to Azkaban. 

All the fight left his body. He couldn’t allow that to happen. So for now, he would play along. At least none of them knew he had spoken to Dumbledore. If the Headmaster kept his promise, he’d quickly find a replacement professor, so Percy would no longer be required. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Dalloway.”

Grabbing his box, Percy exited the office, leaving behind the department he’d known and loved for the past year. His stomach twisted into knots. How many of his co-workers were under the Minister's influence? Were they also being coerced? He wished he knew what was happening. 

Back in the lift, he slowed his breathing as he descended through the levels. 

He hated confrontation. It was never something he was good at. As a Gryffindor, they were expected to stand up for their beliefs, a skill his siblings mastered, but not him. He preferred to be prepared, knowing exactly what he would say before speaking. He was often teased that he was secretly a Slytherin in the lion's den. 

And it was true, in a way. When he was sorted, the hat had said that his ambition would take him far and that Slytherin could nurture that gift. So, he begged to be sorted into Gryffindor. His parents would have been beyond disappointed if he hadn’t joined his brothers there. Thankfully, the hat acknowledged his courage in asking, allowing him to join his family. If only he could have grown up as brave as they were. 

A calm female voice announced the floor as the lift grilles sprang open.

“Level two: Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Department of Magical Education, Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

There was a long hallway filled with doors separating each department. His father also worked on the floor in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. He had visited a couple of times when he first started but quickly learnt that none of the other workers treated his father with much respect. It didn’t seem to bother Arthur when they called his office useless, or when he was “accidentally” uninvited to the Christmas party, or at any other time they outright insulted him. When Percy, too, began to feel weighed down by his father's situation, he kept a greater distance and stuck to his own team. 

Percy walked to the Department of Magical Education and sat in the foyer, knowing his trainer wouldn’t arrive for another hour. Several rows of benches were positioned in the centre of the room, separated by purple velvet ropes. Educational posters about outreach programs, upcoming events, and tutor hiring adorned the walls. From one of the advertisements, his old home-school tutor grinned up at him. Percy wondered if he was still teaching now that his sister and Luna Lovegood, the youngest kids from the village, attended Hogwarts. 

Setting his box down, he sorted through his possessions, separating paperwork from personal belongings. He only had a couple of photos that he’d brought from home. The first was a family portrait from their visit to Egypt, taken just before his seventh year. The second picture was at Hogwarts, capturing him, Penelope, and her friends during a trip to Hogsmeade. He looked so much happier back then, casually draping his arm over her shoulders as they laughed at a joke he could no longer recall. 

To be honest, he didn’t have many friends back at school, at least not from Gryffindor. He got along well with his roommates and attended Quidditch matches together, but they never connected on a deeper level. Thankfully, Penelope's friends welcomed him with open arms, and his last two years at Hogwarts were filled with companionship. 

Behind him, the sharp clack of high heels echoed down the hall. A dark-skinned woman in her mid-twenties rounded the corner with an unamused expression on her face. Upon seeing Percy, her frown deepened, catching him off guard. 

“Mr. Percy Weasley, I presume?” she asked. 

“Yes...?” 

“Well, don’t just sit there; follow me. We’ll head into my office.”

The woman didn’t wait for a response and quickly took off, entering an oak door to her left. Percy jumped up, grabbed his box, and followed at a brisk pace. She was quick for someone a head shorter than him. 

They reached another corridor, and a door on the right swung open with the wave of her wand. He read the bronze door plate as they entered: “Mrs. Autumn Williams, A.I.D. Advisor”. 

“Oh, so you’re my trainer,” said Percy. 

“Who’d you think I was?” 

The outline of a smile graced her lips before vanishing behind a serious exterior. She was clearly annoyed with him; he just didn’t understand why. 

“Sorry, stupid question. I haven’t actually been to your department before. I, um, came straight from Hogwarts to join the Ministry. But you probably already knew that if they gave you my record…” he trailed off, feeling awkward. 

“Listen, Mr. Weasley, I don’t—”

“Please call me Percy.”

“Fine, Percy, I don’t know why they’ve given you this position or what makes you believe that an eighteen-year-old is qualified to teach, but if this is going to work, you must do exactly as I say. I won’t accept anything less than exemplary.”

“I can do that,” agreed Percy. “No matter what it is or what I need to do, please help me to be prepared. I owe that much to the students.” 

Autumn stared at him for a moment, assessing the truth of his statement. 

“Alright. I believe you.” She flicked open a large folder and began pulling out materials. “When I received an owl late last night regarding your reassignment, I wasn’t particularly pleased. What teenager in their right mind would accept a teaching position at one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world? It would have to be someone quite special.”

Percy scratched the back of his neck, uncertain whether to feel insulted or complimented. 

“I realise that my age is a point of contention. I wouldn’t claim to be special or anything, but I promise you that I will succeed. I’m not a quitter.”

She flashed a toothy grin at him. “You’re not what I expected, Percy, but I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. So, I promise to help you to the best of my ability.”

For a brief moment, he wanted to tell her he hadn’t accepted the position willingly but thought better of it. He couldn’t trust her, especially if she turned out to be as morally bankrupt as Mr. Dalloway. 

“Thank you. So, where shall we begin?” asked Percy. 

For the next couple of hours, Autumn planned his itinerary for summer break. He had two months before the term began. It felt daunting when laid out like that, but Autumn was brilliant. She broke everything down into smaller sections and reassured him they’d have all seven curricula ready by the first of September. 

When lunch rolled around, Percy felt more optimistic than he had in a while. He followed Autumn out of her office and into the shared breakroom. Each Ministry level had a designated area where daily meals were provided at no extra cost. He would miss the exotic dishes served in his old department (which had a larger international clientele), but the house-elves never failed to impress. 

He lined up behind a couple of Aurors who were quarrelling about something. An older man with a grey-speckled beard was chastising a younger man with shaggy brown hair, who didn’t seem bothered by it. 

“I’m just saying, if the Minister wanted to avoid such a clusterfuck, he’d have stationed Aurors at the event,” said the younger man. 

“We’ve got better things to do than watch over some school competition,” the older man rolled his eyes. 

Oh. Percy realised they were discussing the Triwizard Tournament. He lowered his head and pretended not to listen. 

“And look what happened; a student died. If we had been allowed to monitor the tasks—perhaps set up a perimeter around each one and conduct a few background checks—then a Death Eater in disguise wouldn’t have pulled the wool over our eyes.”

“Look, we barely have the budget to cover international events, let alone local ones. We’re spread thin enough as it is.”

“And whose fault is that? Every year, our budget gets cut in half by the Minister. He—”

The young man stopped mid-sentence and glanced back at Percy, who had unabashedly eavesdropped on their conversation up until that moment. His face flushed red as he haphazardly piled an assortment of meats and roasted vegetables onto his plate.​​ The two Aurors ignored him and continued to whisper heatedly to each other.  

When he turned around, he noticed his father sitting at a table with his assistant, Perkins. Before he could walk over, Arthur looked up and met his gaze. Anger radiated from him in waves. Percy watched as Arthur muttered something to Perkins, dumped his food in the bin, and then left the break room altogether. 

That stung. 

He sat beside Autumn, who glanced between him and the spot where his father had quickly departed. 

“Wasn’t that your father?” she asked. 

“Yeah...”

“Is everything alright?”

Percy schooled his face into a blank mask. He didn’t want to discuss it. He didn’t want to feel anything right now. 

“It’s fine,” he lied. 

They sat and ate in silence for a moment until a few of her colleagues joined the table. Percy half-listened to the conversation, ruminating on his father’s rejection, which was starting to weigh on him. He needed to talk to someone he trusted, someone who cared about him—someone like Penelope.

Percy stood up, scraping his chair as he rose. “I’m headed to the owlery. I need to send a letter,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

“No problem. Just be back before one o’clock,” Autumn said, a hint of worry tinging her voice. 

He made his way to the Atrium on the eighth floor, where the owlery was located. This four-story spiral tower, filled with carved-out wall niches for the birds to rest, was once a bustling staple of the Ministry, but now it was only used for outside deliveries or personal correspondence. 

Two men sat at the bottom, collecting mail and sorting it into eight piles for each department. One of them, a dark-haired man, tapped his wand on a box labelled “Level Five”, and it rose into the air, drifting toward the lifts. 

Percy scribbled a quick message on a piece of parchment, using his thigh as a surface. It wasn’t his usual neat scrawl, but it got the job done. 

He borrowed a brown tawny owl that held its leg out with practised ease. 

“Please deliver this note to Penelope Clearwater. She’s either at St. Mungo’s or at her flat right now.”

In response, the owl hooted softly and flew off toward the roof. He watched it disappear out the side of the building. 

He typically spent every weekend with his girlfriend, as they were both busy people. She was a second-year intern and dedicated most evenings to studying or brewing potions while he worked ten-hour shifts at the Ministry from Monday to Friday. Nevertheless, they always found time for each other. It was the same when they attended Hogwarts. Some of his favourite memories involved them sitting by the Black Lake or reading side by side in the library. 

His note asked if he could come over to her place after work. Things had gone so badly the last few days that he couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to see her, if only to have someone to vent to. 

Percy focused on Autumn and her lessons for the rest of the afternoon. She had given him a collection of reading materials that he eagerly devoured. By the time five o’clock rolled around, he had a stack of books taller than his knee. Autumn kindly provided him with copies of everything as long as he returned them in their original condition. 

With his wand, he floated the books in front of him as he made his way up to the Atrium. It was crowded. People lined up at the gilded fireplaces, patiently waiting for the person ahead of them to Floo home, while others lingered around the fountain, discussing weekend plans and the upcoming Quidditch match between the Montrose Magpies and the Tutshill Tornados. Percy waved goodbye to a few colleagues from his old department but didn’t linger to chat. 

He released the spell on his books and balanced them against his chest. Then he took out his wand and, with a soft pop, quietly Apparated in front of an ageing building in Newcastle. Behind him lay the northern bank of the River Tyne, glittering under the setting sun. His girlfriend rented a modest one-bedroom, one-bathroom flat in North East England. Her parents, both Muggles, lived nearby and would often stop by to visit. 

The door flew open, and Penelope dashed outside barefoot, still wearing her lime-green healer's robes. Her blonde hair whipped around her face as the wind picked up. He carefully set his belongings down on the footpath and embraced her with open arms. She wrapped herself around his waist as he buried his hands in her hair. They stood still for a moment, feeling nothing but each other. 

“I got your note,” Penelope said breathlessly. 

The reality of his situation weighed heavily on Percy, causing his shoulders to tense. “Let’s go inside and talk. I have a lot to tell you.”

Back inside, Percy had settled into his favourite spot on Penelope’s two-seater sofa. She had since changed from her robes into a loose jumper and tracksuit bottoms, comfortably draping her legs over him as they spoke. 

“And then he said that if I don’t want to be his son, then I’m no longer his son,” said Percy. 

“Sheesh! That must’ve hurt. Are you okay?” asked Penelope. 

“Honestly, no. I never thought he’d—” Percy cleared his throat to ease the lump that had formed. “I mean, we’ve argued before, but nothing like that. He won’t even talk to me. I saw him today at work in the break room, and you should’ve seen the look he gave me. He hates me.”

Percy clenched his jaw and looked away. Penelope took his hand and made small, comforting circles with her thumb. His breathing slowed as he visibly relaxed, intertwining his fingers with hers. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. 

“So, what happens now? Can they really force you to become a Hogwarts professor?”

“I spoke with Dumbledore. He’s currently seeking a replacement, but I’m worried he won’t find anyone in time. Do you remember some of our past Defence Against the Dark Arts professors? Clearly, he was already scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“God, remember Lockhart? It’s a wonder any of us passed that year,” joked Penelope. 

Percy cringed at the reminder. Lockhart was a self-obsessed fraud of a teacher who thought it more important for his students to learn his favourite colour than anything of value. If he and his fellow Prefects hadn’t run year-round study sessions, half of Gryffindor would have flunked DADA. 

“At least I can’t be worse than him,” Percy grinned. “Did I tell you I started my training today? With a woman named Autumn Williams. She works in the Department of—”

“I know her!” interrupted Penelope. “She’s my A.I.D. advisor. I met with her just a few weeks ago for my internship. She’s really nice, isn’t she?”

“Kind of? She was quite direct. It took her some time to warm up to me, but she undoubtedly knows her stuff.”

“Uh, pot meet kettle, Perce. You both take things too seriously.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, knowing he couldn’t dispute that. “So, how was your day? Any interesting cases?”

“Not really. We’re still working on the Concussion Elixir before moving on to contusions. You’d be surprised at how many differences there are between the two.”

Percy softly smiled as Penelope began an extensive explanation, her eyes alight with passion for her field of study. It was something he’d always admired about her: knowledge for the sake of helping others. It was a rare gift to find someone truly selfless. 

As the night wore on, they cracked open a bottle of red wine and enjoyed leftover pasta. Percy didn’t often drink, but Penelope could be very persuasive. Soon, they were tipsy, pink-tinged, and cuddled up together in a tangle of limbs. 

Penelope rested her head on Percy’s chest. “You should really talk to your Mum. I know she can be…overbearing, but if your father refuses to listen to you, you’ll need someone else to persuade him.”

“I’ll Floo call her tomorrow,” Percy sighed. “Not that it will help anything. My father is a stubborn man, and I said some very hurtful things that I probably shouldn’t have. I don’t know if he believes me about the blackmail, but he’s smart enough to stay off the Minister’s radar in the meantime.”

“Good. Otherwise, he’d have to answer to me.”

Percy snorted. “Now, that’s a scary thought,” he teased. 

“Hey!” Penelope playfully punched his arm. “Do you want to sleep on the couch?”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” 

Penelope laid her head back down on Percy, smiling into his chest. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Percy barely slept a wink last night. Every time he closed his eyes, he dreamt about his upcoming meeting with Fudge. Several times, he woke up in a cold sweat, his sheets tangled around his body like a straitjacket. He couldn’t shake the worry that he’d been caught consulting with Dumbledore. It might just be paranoia, but he felt as if he were being spied on. Perhaps his letters were being intercepted, or someone had been following him at work. Either way, it kept him up at night. 

When he entered the Ministry, it was still dark. On weekdays, the Atrium opened at seven o’clock for visitors, so seeing it devoid of people was eerie. The only source of light was the glowing embers of the gilded fireplaces. No one had stoked the flames yet for the morning rush. 

Percy saw a flickering movement to his left. His heart jumped to his throat, but no one was there. It was only the fountain. The water had refracted light onto the ceiling above, creating a shimmering effect. He nervously chuckled to himself but didn’t let his guard down. Something felt off. 

He stepped onto a lift and descended to level one. When the grilles opened, the floor was shrouded in darkness. Not even the secretary was present; her desk left unattended. Percy was about to open the Minister’s office door when he heard the rattle of a doorknob. Against his better judgment, he ducked down behind the desk and hid. 

A set of footsteps emerged from one of the doors near the lift. The figure paused before opening the grilles he’d just exited from. He risked a peek and saw the back of a broad-shouldered man wearing a black uniform with the gold embellishments of an Auror. 

Percy’s heart sank when he recognised the man’s brown, shaggy hair—it was Jack. What was he doing there at such an early hour? He had no reason to be on level one, as his department was on the second floor. Percy quietly crawled back to his hiding spot and waited for him to leave. Once he heard the grilles snap shut and the lift ascend, he popped up from behind the desk. 

“Whatcha doing there, Percy?” a voice behind him asked. 

He jumped back in surprise at the unexpected figure but refrained from screaming. Jack stood there with an amused expression. Percy facepalmed. He’d been tricked. Jack must have pretended to get on the lift before circling back behind him. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Percy whispered, fully aware of how close they were to the Minister’s office. 

“Just business,” Jack replied matter-of-factly. 

“What kind of business?” 

“Noneya business,” joked Jack, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Percy rubbed the bridge of his nose, where his glasses rested. This Auror and his stupid jokes were going to be the death of him. “Oh, haha,” he grumbled. “Very mature.”

He stepped out from behind the desk and returned to the Minister’s door. Jack gently touched his arm, halting him in his tracks. 

“Wait,” Jack said, looking as though he wanted to share something. His expression was serious in a way Percy had never seen before. 

“What is it?” 

Jack opened his mouth to speak but then quickly closed it. 

“Just spit it out already,” said Percy. 

Jack sighed. “You’re very impatient. Did you know that?” 

Percy frowned. “Is that all?” 

“Please,” Jack begged. “Just…be careful in there. The Minister is, well, he’s more dangerous than he appears.”

Did Jack know something? Percy stepped back. 

“What would you know about the Minister?” he accused. 

Jack shot him a sharp glance. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

They stared at each other briefly before Jack turned around and silently walked over to the lifts. 

“Take care, Percy,” he whispered. 

Percy took a few deep breaths before entering the antechamber leading to the Minister’s office. He couldn’t dwell on Jack and his strange behaviour when he needed to concentrate on staying out of trouble. 

He knocked twice and heard a voice call, “Enter!” before opening the door. Fudge sat behind his mahogany desk, reviewing some official-looking documents. He pointed to the armchair directly across from him, gesturing for Percy to take a seat. 

“Good to see you here, Percy, and you’ve come alone as requested,” said Fudge. 

Percy kept his mouth shut; there was no need to mention Jack or the fact that he was snooping around the ministerial offices. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I requested you here,” Fudge continued. He added a lump of sugar to his cup of tea and stirred it as he spoke. “Yesterday was a momentous occasion. The Wizengamot voted in favour of Ministry-sanctioned professors. It’ll only be a matter of time before Hogwarts falls under our jurisdiction.”

Fudge took a long sip of his tea as Percy waited nervously. 

“Dumbledore will lose control of the school, and without his support, Potter will have no one to spout his lies for him. The boy without his Headmaster is nothing,” said Fudge, his eyes gleaming with animosity. “Now that you’re officially locked in as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, we need to discuss the next stage of the plan.”

“The plan?” asked Percy. 

“Yes, I have several ideas for taking Dumbledore down, but first, I need information. And you, Percy, will be the one to get it for me.”

He knew it was coming; after all, Fudge had mentioned that several caveats accompanied the job. 

“What exactly do you need to know?”

Fudge’s smile widened. “When you get to Hogwarts, you'll need to gather as much intel on Dumbledore as possible. I want to know who he’s speaking to, which students he’s particularly close with, and what he discusses during staff meetings. You need to keep detailed notes like those you wrote as Department Head.”

He presented Percy with a leather-bound journal containing blank parchment pages. 

“You should use this. It’s enchanted, so only you and I can read what's written. Anyone else will see illegible handwriting.”

Percy slipped the journal into his blazer. 

“I also need you to get close to Potter. I don’t care how you do it—whether through detentions or extra tutoring—but you must infiltrate his inner circle. The boy is unstable, and I need to know exactly what he’s saying and to whom. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Minister.” Percy understood, but it was easier said than done. He was never friends with Harry and only knew him through his brother—the same brother who was currently upset with him. 

“Good. Once the term begins, we’ll meet weekly at my office. Friday evenings should work well. You will present everything you’ve gathered, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Won’t Dumbledore become suspicious if I frequently leave the school grounds?” asked Percy. 

“That’ll be up to you to figure out.” Fudge finished his tea and set the cup down with a loud clink. “But let me be clear: if Dumbledore suspects any wrongdoing on my part, I won’t be the one to pay the price.” 

Percy swallowed nervously. 

“That’ll be all,” dismissed Fudge. 

He left the Minister’s office feeling dejected. How was he supposed to approach Harry? Even at school, the boy mostly stayed with his close friends. He’d need to figure out how to get him alone. 

On a more positive note, Fudge hadn’t suspected that he’d already spoken to Dumbledore. Perhaps he wasn’t being spied on. After enduring such a stressful stretch of weeks, his mind was likely playing tricks on him. 

It’d be another hour before Autumn arrived in the Department of Magical Education, so Percy sat alone in her office to wait. He drummed his fingers on the desk and replayed the meeting in his mind. Both Fudge and Dumbledore wanted him to spy for them. It felt like being caught between a rock and a hard place. He wasn’t given much of a choice. 

Percy opened the desk drawer and pulled out a spare piece of parchment paper. He needed to write to his mother. He’d procrastinated long enough, and it was only a matter of time before she escalated. The last thing he needed was a Howler sent to his workplace. 

He dipped his quill into the ink bottle and began to write; the words flowing easily once he started.

Dear Mum, 

First, I’d like to apologise for not responding to your letter. I’ve been debating how to handle things. There’s so much I’ve left unsaid, but I’ll keep this brief. 

I will not, under any circumstances, apologise to Dad. I’ve expressed my opinion on this matter several times, and I’m tired of repeating myself. Dad has jeopardised the family’s safety and won’t admit to any wrongdoing. Yet somehow, I’m the one suffering the consequences. 

I have the right to be upset. If things are to change, Dad will need to contact me and have a proper conversation. Until then, I’m not willing to discuss the situation further, and I won’t respond to you if you bring it up again. 

Please respect my boundaries around this issue. 

Your son, Percy. 

He reread his letter, checking for any mistakes. It felt final, in some sense of the word. After this, it’d be up to his father to bridge the gap between them. Percy wasn’t going to waste any more time worrying about it. Penelope would be so proud of him. 

He carefully sealed the parchment and placed it in Autumn’s outgoing mail. He wasn’t in a rush to send it, so he’d save himself a trip to the owlery. 

Time had slipped away from him, and soon Autumn arrived at her office, ready to start the day. She noticed his run-down appearance and pursed her lips in concern. 

“Good morning, Percy,” Autumn said while unpacking her bag. “Sleep alright?”

He stretched his neck from side to side, trying to work out the kinks. “Could’ve been better.” 

Percy had been awake since five that morning and barely slept for three solid hours. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear them. 

“You need to take proper care of yourself. A healthy body leads to a healthy mind,” lectured Autumn. 

Percy stifled a yawn behind his hand. “I’m sure it does, but I’m fine. I’ll have the whole weekend to catch up on my sleep.”

As they organised the desk with reading materials, Percy recalled his strange encounter with Jack. 

“Autumn, may I ask you something about an Auror I met?”

“Sure, but I don’t work with them much. We deal more with the Magical Law Enforcement officers, you know, for child welfare checks and compulsory attendance offences and such,” she explained. 

“Oh,” said Percy. “I thought you might know something since you share the same floor. That's all.”

Autumn leaned back in her office chair, a sly smile forming. “Try me, who’s this mysterious Auror?”

“His name is Jack Whittaker—awful sense of humour—but there’s something off about him. I just can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

He’d caught him sneaking around the ministerial offices that morning. What had he been doing there, and why had he warned him about the Minister? It was clear that Jack wanted to tell him something. What exactly, he didn’t know.  

“Jack Whittaker. That name sounds familiar.” Autumn thought for a moment, tapping her fingers on a textbook. “Yes, Jack. I know him, or rather, I knew him from school; he was two years below me. We were in different Houses, of course; I was a Ravenclaw, and he was a Hufflepuff. We never really interacted, but I did follow Quidditch; he was Hufflepuff’s Captain back in the day. Actually, I think he would’ve attended Hogwarts during your first two years.”

That surprised Percy. He didn’t remember Jack from Hogwarts, although Percy would have been relatively young back then—only twelve years old. 

“What about at the Ministry?” asked Percy. 

“If he had joined the Auror ranks straight out of school, he would’ve completed three years of training before becoming fully fledged. He probably has only two or three years of experience behind him. Green behind the ears, as they say.”

“So, you haven’t talked to him?”

“Not really, no,” Autumn said, giving him a quizzical look. “Why are you so interested in him?”

Percy spluttered a little. “I am not interested. I’ve bumped into him several times in the department, and he was particularly annoying. I wanted to understand what his deal was.”

Autumn raised her hands. “Sorry for asking. Should we continue your training?”

For the rest of the morning, Percy diligently studied. An hour before lunch, he offered to get Autumn a coffee. This time, there was no Jack to be found when he went down to the eighth level. Lining up, he patiently waited to be served. When he reached into his blazer for his coin pouch, he felt something that didn’t belong. He pulled out a plain white business card devoid of any writing.

The barista cleared their throat. “Um, I said it’s ten Sickles.”

“Right, sorry,” Percy rummaged through his coin pouch. “Here you go.” 

He handed over the coins and waited by the counter for the drinks to be made. 

He examined the card closely and noticed it was off-white with a matte finish. There was no printing on either the back or front. He tilted the card from side to side to see if it changed with the angle or under the light. It stayed the same. 

Someone had slipped it into his blazer without his noticing. It hadn’t been there when he got dressed that morning. He couldn’t recall checking his pockets after that, except when he placed the Minister’s leather-bound journal inside. So, between then and now, it must have been placed. 

Percy tried to observe the people around him discreetly. Any of them could have slipped it into his blazer while he stood in line for coffee. A couple of witches were chatting off to the side, and directly behind him stood an Auror, two Hit Wizards, and a foreign visitor. None of them glanced in his direction. 

He collected the coffee and returned to level two. Autumn took a deep sip of her drink, smiling into the cup. She enjoyed her caffeine. 

Percy placed the card on her desk. 

“What’s that?” asked Autumn. 

“I was going to ask you the same question. So, I guess you didn’t slip it into my pocket?” Percy questioned. 

“No. Do you mind if I take a look?” 

Percy handed her the card, and she picked it up, examining it from front to back. She held it up to the light, but there were no secret messages. Then she slid her finger over the matte finish, feeling for any odd textures. 

“I have nothing. Is it magical? Has it done anything?”

“Nada,” Percy replied. “Someone must’ve placed it in my blazer for a reason. I just haven’t figured out why.”

He laid the card on the desk again and cast a magic detection spell. A faint blue light glowed briefly before disappearing. Thankfully, it wasn’t tainted by Dark magic, but it was definitely enchanted. There had to be something he was missing—something he needed to do to activate the card. 

“Maybe you should dip the card in water?” suggested Autumn. “I’ll fetch a bowl to test it.”

“What do you need a bowl for? We can just use the Auguamenti Charm,” scoffed Percy.

Autumn placed her hands on her hips and glared in a way that made her resemble his mother. “Not on my desk, you’re not!”

“Fair enough,” Percy conceded. 

Autumn left her office in search of a bowl. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the business card transformed. Black, inky words appeared in the middle. It read, “Level two. DMLE. Third door. Second corridor. Back wall.” They were a set of directions. 

Excited, Percy yanked open the door to get Autumn when suddenly the words disappeared from the card. Maybe they only lasted for a limited time. Disappointed, he closed the door, only for them to reappear. It seemed like they only materialised when he was alone. Percy tested his theory a few more times, opening and closing the door in quick succession. He was right—the message was only for him. 

When Autumn returned, Percy explained what he’d discovered. “It’s charmed so that only I can read it when I'm alone. How neat is that?” 

He flipped the card around, admiring the craftsmanship of the spell. 

Autumn seemed more apprehensive. “You mentioned it provided a set of directions. Directions to what, exactly? Why couldn’t this person tell you themselves?” 

“I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out. Let’s check it out,” said Percy. 

“Do you think that’s wise? What if it’s a trick?” Autumn worriedly chewed her bottom lip. 

“It’s in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I seriously doubt a Dark wizard has set an ambush just a few cubicles away from Amelia Bones.” 

Percy pocketed the card and held the door open for Autumn. 

“Plus, you’re coming with me. How much trouble could it possibly be?”

Autumn narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

They entered the department into a whirlwind of activity. Several visitors were waiting for hearings. One of them was shackled and being led away by an officer. An office worker hurried past them, levitating a stack of folders to the front desk, while another carried an armful of freshly printed posters down the hallway. 

“They’re pretty busy at the moment,” Autumn said. “We should be able to slip through unnoticed. Just keep your head down.”

Percy nodded, and the two of them bypassed the Auror Headquarters and the Hit Wizards Office, instead entering the third door from the left—the Investigation Unit. Inside, the walls were plastered with posters of the ten most wanted fugitives, including a section dedicated entirely to Sirius Black. To the left were the interrogation rooms, but they avoided them altogether and kept to the centre corridor. They walked past several doors until they reached a dead end. 

A plain brown brick wall awaited them. Percy touched the surface, half expecting to find a concealed entrance. However, his hand met solid brick. Autumn also approached and examined the wall closely. 

“These bricks have some chips in the corners. Could they be significant?” suggested Autumn. 

Percy pressed each of the bricks that Autumn pointed out. Maybe it was like Diagon Alley, and he had to tap the correct combination to enter. He took out his wand and tapped a couple of the chipped bricks.

Nothing happened.

He waved his wand over the wall, which glowed a faint blue. It was enchanted. He took out the blank card and held it up to the wall. It didn’t provide any further instruction—no password or clue about what to do next. Autumn was growing frustrated. 

“Listen, Percy. We shouldn’t stay here too long, or they’ll start asking questions. I think we should head back.”

He sighed. They were so close; he could feel it. His magic almost vibrated with anticipation. 

“Okay. We’ll try again later.”

As they turned around, a sudden idea popped into Percy’s head. The writing on the business card only appeared when he was alone. Perhaps the wall would only open for him, away from prying eyes. 

Autumn only agreed to come down since they were investigating together. He doubted she would be okay with him going alone. He’d have to wait until she went home for the day to return. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Percy tried to concentrate on his studies, but his efforts were in vain. He flipped through the pages of his book, “Advanced Defence”, hardly registering the information. Autumn noticed that he was distracted. 

“Maybe we should call it a day. You’ve been reading the same page for the past five minutes,” sympathised Autumn. 

“Sorry, I can't stop thinking about the card,” Percy said. 

“Listen, you’ve done well this week, but you’re exhausted. I’m sure we both want to go home and relax. So, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” 

Percy raised his brows in surprise. Autumn was the last person he would have chosen as a rule-breaker. 

“Are you sure no one will notice?” he asked. 

“I’m sure. Plus, you’ve been early every morning this week. You’ve more than earned it.” Autumn gave him her trademark smile. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” He smiled back before gathering his belongings. 

Although he was exhausted, that wasn’t why he wanted to finish early. He needed Autumn to go home so he could investigate the wall unhindered. His stomach clenched at the deception. She didn’t deserve to be lied to. 

He waved goodbye to Autumn before sneaking back into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The day was winding down, and everyone was preparing to go home. It was simple to avoid suspicion as he blended in with the other workers. He carried a mountain of books, high enough to obscure his face. 

As he turned the corner, he nearly bumped into a couple of officers from the Enforcement Patrol. He pretended to adjust his books while waiting for them to depart. Once it was clear, Percy walked to the end of the corridor and faced the brick wall. 

He took the business card from his blazer pocket, and the inky black words reappeared. No one was around. As he concentrated on the bricks, a brass doorknob that hadn’t been there before materialised. He was right; it only appeared for him. 

Reaching out, Percy grasped the doorknob and cautiously turned it. The door swung open, revealing a hidden room. Inside, it was dark, illuminated by a single lamp on a wooden table. There were two chairs, a folder, and a lone quill, but no inkpot. 

Percy looked over his shoulder, and when he saw no one behind him, he hesitantly stepped inside the room. The door closed behind him, but the doorknob remained. He could leave whenever he wanted. Taking a seat, Percy was about to grab the folder when a figure stepped out from the darkness. They were shrouded in shadow, and their face was obscured in a way that suggested magic was involved. Every time he tried to get a closer look, his eyes would glide over any distinguishing features. 

“Percy Ignatius Weasley,” said the mysterious figure. He couldn’t discern whether they were male or female. 

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, holding his wand under the table in case he needed to use it. 

“You’ve been brought here because we have an offer for you.”

His heart raced as he stared at the figure, waiting for them to elaborate. 

“We’re currently investigating the corruption within the Ministry of Magic and the blatant abuse of office. We believe you are being coerced and wish to provide protection in exchange for your cooperation.”

“My cooperation? In doing what exactly?” Percy asked. He didn’t want to put himself in any more danger than he already was. 

“We seek information and names. You’ll only need to provide what you already know.” 

“And what exactly is this operation?”

“We’re the A.C.T., the Anti-Corruption Taskforce, but that’s all I can reveal without reassurance. On the table lies a magically binding document. If you choose to sign it, you’ll be sworn to secrecy, and we’ll be able to provide further details.”

Percy opened the folder and found a single parchment page. 

“Do you mind if I read it first?” Percy asked. 

“Please, go ahead.”

He carefully reviewed the fine print of the document. By signing it, he would not be able to disclose any of the Taskforce’s secrets, members, or other identifiable information. It was even binding against magical coercion such as Veritaserum, Legilimency, and the Imperius Curse. According to the document, he could leave anytime he wished without negative consequences, but he would still be under oath. This would be a secret he’d have to keep for life. 

“What happens if I don’t agree to this? If I turn around right now and walk out the door?” he inquired, trying to seem braver than he felt. 

“We won’t stop you. This is your choice, Percy. But once you leave, the offer goes with you. You won’t be able to find this room again.”

Percy thought for a long while, bouncing his foot nervously. He was being offered an out, but should he take it? Everyone in his life wanted to control him: his parents, the Minister, and Dumbledore. Here was the perfect opportunity to regain his freedom.

“I want the Minister to be brought to justice. I’ll sign it.” Percy picked up the quill and searched for an inkpot. 

“I’m glad you'll be joining us. However, that quill is quite special. It’s called a Blood Quill. Instead of ink, it uses your blood to tie your magic to the document.”

Percy took a deep breath and placed the tip of the quill at the bottom of the document. He neatly signed his name in bright red blood—his own. The back of his right hand stung, and he watched in fascination as an exact copy of his signature cut itself into his skin. Then, the wound healed over, leaving no trace. 

He looked back at the document, which glowed bright gold as it accepted his magic. Next to his name, forty or more names, also written in deep shades of red, appeared on the parchment. These were the other members. 

The figure slid the document back into the folder and then tucked it beneath their cloak. 

“So, who’s in charge of this operation?” asked Percy.

“Why, Madam Bones, of course. Formidable as she is.”

Percy was impressed. Amelia Bones was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, holding significant power and responsibility within the Wizengamot. He had always regarded her highly. 

“How many members are there?”

“As of today, forty-three.”

“Are you looking for more? Because my A.I.D. advisor, Autumn Williams, would be perfect. She helped me figure out the card and has been training me at her own expense.” He knew she’d given up two months of her summer to assist him instead of helping her usual clients. “And also, I’ve basically told her everything about the Minister and his plans. So, there’s that.”

The figure remained silent for a moment. Maybe he’d made a mistake by confiding in her. 

“We’ll look into it.”

“So, what do you need me to do?” asked Percy. 

“We know the Minister has plans for Hogwarts. He wants Ministry personnel inside the castle, starting with you, Percy. I assume you’ve been asked to spy on Dumbledore, but we need the details.” The figure sat directly across from Percy, locking eyes with him. “What do they have on you? There must be some form of blackmail for you to simply get up and resign from your position without notice. Don’t worry; you won’t be prosecuted for anything you tell us. As I mentioned, you have our full protection, including for any criminal offences or reputational damage.”

Percy hesitated. “It’s not me; it's my father, Arthur Weasley. He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Somehow, they’ve acquired several photographs of him tinkering with Muggle objects to enchant them with magic. Unless I comply with his demands, the Minister has threatened to send him to Azkaban.”

“A bit ironic, don’t you think? You know, because your father ought to be arresting himself.” The figure appeared highly amused. 

The poorly timed joke reminded him of a certain Auror he knew. 

“Even though my father isn't currently talking to me, I still prefer that he not be arrested.”

“Sorry,” apologised the figure. “We need you to update us with any new information you receive. This is for you.”

They presented him with a gold-plated pocket watch on a short chain. He clicked open the double-hunter lid, revealing a beautiful clock face inside. 

“If you rewind the clock to nine forty-five, you can contact us from Hogwarts without raising suspicion. It functions as a two-way mirror, reflecting your image onto the bottom lid. We’ve also equipped it with a safety alarm. Wind the time forward one full cycle and then backward two full cycles to activate it. This should only be used in emergencies.” 

“Got it. Who exactly will I be talking to?” Percy wanted to know if he’d be conversing with Amelia Bones herself. 

“Me. I’m what you call your handler. I’ll be your only direct line of contact to A.C.T.”

The figure pulled back their hood, breaking the concealing enchantment. Smiling back at him was Auror Jack Whittaker. 

Percy gawked in disbelief. “You… You’re my handler.”

“I know. I’m a lot to take in,” he grinned.

Percy glared at the Auror with distaste. How was he going to endure this man for the entire year? 

“I should’ve known.” Percy rubbed his temples as a headache began to form. “This morning, when I saw you rummaging through the ministerial offices. You were there to spy on my meeting with the Minister, right?”

“Not exactly,” admitted Jack. “I was spying, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t supposed to show myself to you. I could’ve easily used a Disillusionment Charm or an Invisibility Spell, but I wanted to gauge your reaction—a test before inviting you here.”

“I guess I passed,” deadpanned Percy. “And was that when you slipped the card into my pocket?”

“That’s right. A simple sleight of hand trick on my part. Actually, for someone who will teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, I would have thought you’d be more defensive.”

Percy frowned, feeling his headache intensify. 

“Sorry, that was a bad joke,” Jack chuckled. “How about I teach you some advanced defensive spells, seeing as I’m an Auror and all? I'd be happy to offer some private lessons.” 

“I’m doomed,” Percy lamented. 

Jack snorted in amusement. “Come on, I’m not that bad.”

“This is going to end in disaster.”

Chapter Text

Percy arrived promptly at the Ministry the following Monday morning and stood outside Autumn’s office. He nervously wrung his hands as he knocked on her door. Over the weekend, he had ample time to think about the Taskforce and whether Autumn would be allowed to join them. Unfortunately, during their meeting, Jack never gave him a straightforward answer. 

The door swung open forcefully, nearly striking him in the face. Autumn didn’t greet him; in fact, she didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Percy picked at a loose thread from his blazer, feeling uneasy. 

“So, did you have a nice weekend?” he asked. 

She ignored him and opened her bag to retrieve a set of textbooks. Taking her cue, Percy stepped into the office. He could tell she was angry with him, and her icy gaze made him nervous. 

“We're having pretty good weather. I think the worst of the humidity is behind us,” he chatted idly. 

A long stretch of silence answered him. 

He tried again. “So, did you catch the Harpies vs. Falcons game on Saturday? Only ten points between them.”

Autumn slammed her copy of “Defensive Magical Theory” onto the table, causing him to flinch backwards. 

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“What I’d like to know, Percy, is what went through your head when you decided to return to that hidden room alone. Do your promises mean nothing?! You said we’d go back together,” spat Autumn, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. 

“I take it you’ve been accepted into A.C.T., then?” Percy asked. 

Autumn tossed a blank card at him, allowing it to slide across the desk. It was identical to his own.

“I received it this morning, and do you know what they told me?”

Percy had an inkling. “No?”

Her jaw visibly tensed. “They told me that a certain someone had nominated me. I wonder who that might be?”

“Listen, Autumn. I know I shouldn’t have gone alone, but it all worked out, didn’t it?”

“You were lucky this time; it could have easily been a trap!” she yelled. 

Percy couldn’t meet her gaze. A wave of shame swept over him. He knew he shouldn’t have deceived her. 

Autumn slumped down in her seat. All the fight seemed to leave her body at once. “I just...I worry about you, alright?” she admitted. “Please, Percy. Just...be careful.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you what I planned to do,” Percy apologised. “We’re still friends, right?”

Her expression softened at his question. “Yes, we’re still friends.”

Relief washed over him. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else. 

Percy took a seat and started to unpack his books. “Can I ask, though? Did you sign it?”

Autumn exchanged a small smile with him. “Yes, I’m officially part of A.C.T.”

He knew she wouldn’t refuse. She was as involved as he was now. 

“What have they asked you to do?” 

“I’m an informant, just like you, but my main focus is in my department. It’ll be my responsibility to notify the Taskforce whenever the Minister introduces a new Education Bill. Then try to stop it in the preliminary stage before it ever reaches a vote.”

“Did you get a...” Percy glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was clear, “...watch?” He then showed off his new gold pocket watch nestled inside his blazer. 

Autumn pulled out hers as well. “Sure did.” 

Hers was slightly smaller and silver-plated rather than gold. 

“Who’s your handler? And don’t tell me it’s Jack,” he scoffed. 

“I guess we share that in common, too.” She chuckled at the expression Percy made. “He also mentioned that you’re taking private defence lessons together. How’d he sucker you into that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Autumn snorted in amusement. “We should probably get started for the day. Did you bring your study notes?”

Percy reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of papers about the size of a matchbook. He waved his wand and performed the counter-charm, enlarging his notes to their original size. The stack towered above his head. 

He’d always been an organised person. Therefore, it was no one's surprise that he had kept all of his old Hogwarts notes. Each year was colour-coordinated, alphabetised, and summarised for easy reference. Autumn was extremely impressed. 

As part of his lesson planning, he needed to create a realistic timeline for each term. He was aware that most of the students, apart from the first-years, would have a mixed bag of knowledge regarding Defence Against the Dark Arts, mainly due to the variety of professors they had throughout their education. Some were good, while others were laughably bad. Every year would require a refresher on all the material they had missed, especially for those who dealt with Lockhart. 

A soft knock on the door interrupted his studies as a portly wizard floated a container marked “Level Two” over to him. He shuffled through a collection of letters and parcels, searching for something.

“I’ve got a letter for Percy Weasley,” he wheezed. 

“That’s me.”

The man held out a simple scroll bound with a brown string. Percy signed for it and then swiftly unrolled the letter. As he skimmed its contents, he noticed it was from his mother. 

Dear Percy, 

It pains me that you don’t want to make amends with your father, but I’ll respect your wishes. I only want what's best for the family and for you. 

We’ve settled nicely into you-know-where, but it needs a lot of cleaning. People haven’t inhabited it for the last ten years, so you can imagine the pest infestation. I have more to tell you, but not by owl. 

Can I Floo call you Thursday evening after dinner? Your father will be out, so we won’t be interrupted. 

Love, Mum.

The ache in his chest returned full force. He would never admit it to anyone, but he missed living with his family. It was hard to acknowledge that they were all together without him. He tried not to feel bitter about it.  

Autumn gave him some space. She understood that he’d been distant from his family and that it was a sensitive topic for him. He appreciated that she didn’t pry. 

“May I have a sheet of parchment, please?” he asked. 

She handed him one from her drawer. He sat down and quickly quilled back a reply. His mother had at least tried to understand his perspective (more than his father ever had), so he agreed to a Floo call on the condition that she wouldn’t push his boundaries. 

He put his letter in the outgoing pile. 

“Should we return to the outline?” suggested Autumn.

“Thanks,” he whispered. 

Percy kept busy for the rest of the day. Then, just before four o’clock, a sharp knock interrupted his reading. Jack stood at the door, dressed in his black-and-gold Auror uniform, holding a set of workout clothes. 

“You ready for our first lesson?” he asked Percy. 

“I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

Jack tossed the clothes onto his notes, nearly toppling an inkpot. Autumn frowned at the disruption and muttered something about “not dealing with this” before walking away. 

“Get dressed,” Jack demanded. “I’ve booked a sparring room at quarter past.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” groaned Percy. 

“Deadly,” Jack grinned. He stepped out of the office to give Percy some privacy. “Now hurry up. We’re wasting time.”

Percy changed into a plain white shirt and tracksuit bottoms. The shirt was loose around his shoulders, and the pants were too short. He awkwardly walked over to Jack, who burst into laughter. 

Jack cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Sorry, these are my spares. I suppose you’re a bit taller than I thought.”

Percy rolled his eyes and took out his wand, transfiguring the clothes to fit his body. He smiled at Jack's surprised reaction. After all, Transfiguration was his strong suit. 

They entered the Auror Headquarters, past the cubicles, and down a separate corridor. On one side was a series of classrooms designated for the newest batch of recruits, while on the other side were various combat rooms. Jack provided Percy with a quick overview of the facilities as they walked by.

He pointed to a bronze plaque that read, “Concealment and Disguise”.

“They have a series of stage sets designed to resemble magical settlements. There’s one of Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even a miniature Ministry of Magic. We’re meant to practise blending in with the environment,” Jack explained. 

The next plaque read, “Duelling in the Dark”. 

“As you can tell from the name, it’s completely pitch-black inside. They set up several obstacles and expect you to navigate around them while duelling.”

They reached the end of the hall where a door read, “Resilience Training”. Jack stepped inside and held the door open for Percy. 

“Each room contains several sparring dummies to help improve your stamina and spell recovery. I’ve reserved a slot for us that lasts forty-five minutes.” 

“Are you sure it’s alright for us to use them?” asked Percy. 

“Of course, that’s what they’re there for,” said Jack.

The room featured a simple layout. In the centre stood a magic-resistant dummy, several practice targets, and a table pushed against the wall. Jack removed his Auror jacket and tossed it aside. Underneath, he wore a snug white shirt that clung tightly to his body. 

“Alright, we’ll start slowly and work you up to some of the advanced stuff. Aim at the dummy; it’ll absorb your spells and then release a quick energy blast back at you. So, get ready to dodge.”

Percy moved to the middle of the room, stretched his arms and shoulders, and positioned his wand defensively. 

“Ready?” Jack stepped back to avoid stray blasts. Percy nodded. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

Percy started simple, casting a few disarming spells and some fifth-year jinxes. Each time he hit the dummy, he had to duck or shield himself from the rebounding energy blast. 

“Good,” encouraged Jack. “Just relax a little. Your stance is too stiff.”

Percy took his advice and relaxed his stance. Then, he decided to kick it up a notch. 

Casting “Protego”, he anchored the Shield Charm to his body, freeing up his wand to rapid-fire hex after hex at the dummy. Each point of contact sent yellow sparks into the air and would have left scorch marks if the room hadn’t been shock-resistant. 

After five minutes, Jack yelled at him to stop. 

“That’s enough for now. Go take a break,” said Jack. 

Percy breathed heavily and leaned against the table. It was more taxing than he had thought. 

“I’m actually impressed.” Jack clapped Percy on the back. “I liked how you anchored the Shield Charm to yourself, and you’ve practically mastered non-verbal spells. Your stamina needs improvement, but with a few months of practice, you’ll be a pro.”

“Thanks,” said Percy. He grabbed an empty cup from the table and used the Auguamenti Charm to fill it with water. 

“Let’s go over your N.E.W.T. material, and then I’ll share a couple of my favourite spells with you.”

Percy gulped down the water before joining him. “Sounds great.”

Jack taught him two Auror-class spells. The first was a long-range offensive jinx that shot magical energy from the tip of the caster’s wand. Percy tested it on the targets along the back wall.

He lined up his wand and pulled it back as if he were notching an arrow. “Freccia,” he said before releasing a small yet powerful blast. It removed a significant chunk of wood upon impact. 

“It’s one of our far-reaching spells,” explained Jack as he repaired the targets. “One of our men once hit an assailant three hundred metres away.” 

The second spell was an illusion that drew all the shadows in the room toward the caster, creating a dark, blanketed area. 

Percy lowered his wand to the floor and uttered, “Nocturus”. The room was instantly engulfed in darkness. Only he, as the caster, could see through the enchantment. 

“That’s excellent!” Jack encouraged. He walked over to Percy without any hindrance. He had trained enough in the dark to avoid relying solely on his sight. “As you can see, I still have my other senses. So, just be aware of whom you’re targeting.” 

“Understood.” Percy released the spell, and the shadows dispersed. 

“That’s enough for today. You’ve done well.”

After their session, they used the communal showers to freshen up. Percy changed back into his usual attire and waited for Jack to return. He folded the borrowed workout clothes into a neat pile. 

Jack rounded the corner and shook his damp hair free. A few drops of water splashed onto his arm. 

“Oi! Watch it! You’re not a dog,” chastised Percy, wiping his arm on his shirt. 

“I dunno about that. Today’s been ruff,” joked Jack. 

“That was awful,” Percy groaned. “And here I was going to thank you, but if you’d prefer that I didn’t…”

“Sorry, you were saying?” said Jack.

“Thank you for teaching me those spells; it’s been fun.” He smiled gently. 

When Jack first suggested private lessons, he worried he wouldn’t take them seriously. However, he was pleasantly surprised by how dedicated Jack was. He’d been a great instructor. 

“You’re welcome,” Jack grinned. He pushed his damp hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. “You know, we can make this a semi-regular thing. Surely, you’ll need to practise all the material you plan to teach. I’m happy to help you.”

Percy chewed his bottom lip as he contemplated the offer. “Only if it doesn’t interfere with my studies. I have a limited amount of time before the term begins.”

“It’ll be great!” promised Jack, his eyes shining excitedly. 

“Alright, you have yourself a deal!”

Percy tried to return the borrowed clothes, but Jack refused. “Keep them. I’ve got plenty.”

“It’s a nice sentiment, but I’d prefer to bring my own workout clothes.”

“No, really, they’re yours now,” insisted Jack. 

There was a brief pause between them before Percy broke into laughter. Despite being a skilled Auror, Jack didn’t know how to reverse his transfiguration.

“Do you want me to transfigure them back?” he asked. 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed. “Yes, please.” 

Thursday arrived faster than he’d expected. His mother would call sometime within the next hour, so he kept a close eye on the Weasley Family Clock. All the hands pointed to “lost” except his father and himself. 

Over the last fortnight, he’d noticed a strange occurrence. His father's golden hand sat at “work” several hours longer on Thursdays than the rest of the week. This surprised him because his father’s office didn’t handle late-night calls. Instead, they were transferred to Enforcement Patrol officers. 

He’d just finished drying the dishes when he heard the distinct sound of the fireplace come to life. 

“Percy, are you there?” a voice called. 

He entered the lounge to find his mother’s face flickering in the flames. 

“I’m here. How are you, Mum?”

“Keeping busy. Your siblings and I have been cleaning the house. I mentioned in my letter that it’s quite a mess. We’ve got an infestation of doxies, and don’t get me started on whatever is hiding in the writing desk. It’s rattling, something awful.”

“Oh? Why’s it so dirty? I thought you said Headquarters belonged to one of the Order members.”

“It does. Sirius Black has generously lent us his ancestral home.”

“The Black family? You’d better watch out for dark artefacts,” warned Percy. 

Thinking of the Weasleys in such a dark, derelict place was strange. It didn’t suit them.

His mother frowned. “Much of it should’ve been discarded years ago, and some items are so dangerous that we had to destroy them. You’d think the house-elf would have done a better job.”

“And how is everyone else?” 

“Bill’s joined us. He’s finally applied for a nice desk job closer to home—far away from those awful tombs and curses.”

He could tell that his mother was pleased by that fact. She had never approved of her eldest son’s lifestyle, which became a point of contention whenever he visited.  

“Did I mention the twins passed their Apparation test?” continued Molly. “Now that they’re allowed to use magic at home, they’ve been Apparating every five feet. Drives me nuts, those two.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” snarked Percy, glad he didn’t have to deal with their antics. At least until Hogwarts, that is. 

“And Hermione, Ron’s friend, arrived today. Unfortunately, her parents, being Muggles, couldn’t stay—there’s a Muggle Repelling Charm on the house—so we’ll look after her for the rest of the summer.”

“That’s nice.”

It seemed like everyone was there except for him. 

“What about you? How’s your training going?”

“Good. It’s been... good.” It was the first time she had asked him about his lessons. He couldn’t trust her not to tell Dumbledore everything he said. “The Minister connected me with an A.I.D. Advisor. She’s been helping me for the past few weeks,” he added. 

Percy needed to be cautious about the information he shared. He couldn’t mention anything regarding the Taskforce or Jack, and especially nothing about his meeting with the Minister. 

“She sounds nice,” his mother mused. 

“You probably heard about the passing of the Education Bill from Dumbledore. He mentioned that he spoke to you last week.”

“Yes, when you sent that ruddy big owl to the house, it scared me half to death!”

“Sorry, Mum. It was the fastest bird I could find.”

He still felt bitter about the entire ordeal. Dumbledore would never have helped him unless it served the Order somehow. 

His mind darkened as he thought about how he had been used. When he looked up, his mother was still talking, unaware he hadn’t been paying attention.

“...and I’m still waiting for their results...” Molly kept rambling about his siblings. 

Then there was silence. Did she ask him something?

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” 

“Are you alright, Perce? You seem a little distracted. Is something on your mind?” she asked. 

Something was bothering him, and he didn’t know how to approach the subject, as it directly involved his father. 

He decided to be upfront about it.

“Dad’s hand on the Family Clock is still pointing at work. Not that it’s any of my business, but his office doesn’t make late-night calls.”

His mother didn’t answer him. 

Percy pressed on. “You know, it’s funny, but I could’ve sworn that he’s been working late every Thursday night. Any idea why?”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean, dear,” lied Molly. 

“Is there anything you’re not telling me?” 

His mother pursed her lips before the words tumbled out. “Albus asked me not to say anything.”

There it was.

Dumbledore’s involvement was never good. What had he gotten his father into now?  

“Is Dad on a mission? After you promised me that he was keeping a low profile,” he angrily accused. “The Minister has been watching him for years. Who's to say he still isn’t?”

His mother looked guilty. 

“What exactly is he doing at the Ministry? What’s so important that he’d risk his freedom like that?”

“I-I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She turned away from him. Percy stood up, ready to extinguish the flames. He shouldn’t have brought up his father. It never boded well for him.

“Wait, Percy. Don’t leave!” she pleaded. “Your father is guarding something. That’s all I can tell you.” 

Huh. He hadn’t that.

If Arthur was guarding something at the Ministry, the rest of the Order was likely involved. This explained why he only stayed back once a week.  

“Thanks for your honesty. I don’t suppose you could speak to Dad again and remind him of the stakes. If he slips up and gets caught, he’ll end up in Azkaban. The Minister won’t be lenient.”

His mother chewed her bottom lip with worry. It was a habit, he realised, that he’d picked up himself. 

“Arthur’s always careful. He won’t get caught.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said.

The disappointment settled heavily in his chest.  

As the weeks went by, Percy diligently crafted a syllabus for all seven years of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Autumn aided him with the theoretical aspects and ensured his lessons adhered to Ministry guidelines, while Jack supported him with the practical components. Before he knew it, a month had flown by. 

He sat at home, wrapping a present for his sister, Ginny, as today was her fourteenth birthday. Penelope had helped him choose a pair of arm-length Quidditch gloves that, according to her, were quite fashionable. Percy knew Ginny wanted to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Chaser but hadn’t had the courage to try. Perhaps a little push would encourage her. 

He secured her gift with a blue ribbon and then took out a quill, deciding to attach a note. 

Dear Ginny,

Happy Birthday!

I hope your gift proves useful. You’ll be a shoo-in if you try out. 

Sorry I haven’t been in touch. As you can imagine, I’ve been very busy preparing for the start of the school year. We’ll see each other more once classes begin. 

Your brother, Percy. 

He hadn’t heard from Ginny or any of his siblings since his fight with his father. By now, Arthur had probably twisted his words and turned them against him. His stomach churned with resentment. It wasn’t fair. They never took his side, even when he was right. 

Tucking the present into his blazer, Percy would have to wait until Hermes returned to send it. As his hand brushed against his pocket watch, he felt it vibrate.

Quite strange, he thought. It had never done that before.

Percy opened the double-hunter lid and peered into the reflective surface. Jack’s face looked back at him. He fumbled the watch in surprise but managed not to drop it.  

“Percy, I’m glad I caught you. There’s something I need your help with.”

“What is it?” asked Percy. “I’m currently at home. Are you still at work?” 

Jack appeared to be in Auror Headquarters. He could hear several voices in the background.

“Madam Bones has received urgent news about Harry Potter. Do you know where he is?”

About a week ago, his mother informed him that Harry had arrived at Headquarters following an unfortunate incident involving some Dementors. He was currently waiting for a disciplinary hearing regarding his use of underage magic outside of school.

“I have a rough idea,” Percy said. 

Jack knew that the Weasleys were close to Harry and that Percy could reach him through them. 

“Good, I need you to deliver a message. His hearing has been rescheduled to eight o’clock and will now take place in Courtroom Ten. I believe the Minister intends to discredit him before the entire Wizengamot.”

“Would they not be required to send a warning for the time change?”

“They have, but I've got a feeling it won’t arrive in time.” Jack gave him a dark look. “They’re not exactly playing fair.”

“I understand. Leave it to me,” Percy reassured. Despite his feelings about Harry, he deserved a fair trial. 

An Auror shouted something in the background, and footsteps could be heard approaching.  

“I gotta go,” whispered Jack before his face vanished from the lid, leaving his own troubled reflection shining back. 

Harry’s trial was tomorrow. He'd have to contact Headquarters immediately if he wanted to get the message to him on time. He flicked his wand, and the flames in the fireplace roared to life. After throwing in a handful of Floo Powder, he stated, “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place”, and stuck his head into the fire. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw a long wooden table crammed full of chairs in the middle of a vacant room. To his left was the kitchen, where his mother had laid out the ingredients for dinner on the counter. 

“Hello!? Is anyone there!” he yelled. 

No one answered him. He strained to hear if anyone was around. A faint noise came from upstairs. 

“Mum!? Are you there?!” His voice echoed across the room. 

They couldn’t hear him. He pulled his head back through the fireplace and landed on his butt in the lounge room. Looking up at the Weasley Family Clock, he could tell they were all at Headquarters. There was only one option left. 

He steadied his hands as he threw another handful of Floo Powder into the flames. His heart hammered in his chest. Arthur would be furious to see him, but he had to warn Harry. Taking a deep breath, he uttered the address and stepped into the emerald-green fire. Once the world stopped spinning, he found himself standing in Grimmauld Place. 

Percy ascended the basement stairs and entered a long, gloomy hallway. The carpet squelched with each footstep, damp from an unknown source beneath. He could hear muffled voices echoing from somewhere above him. 

At the base of the stairs stood a pair of moth-eaten, blackened curtains tied shut in the middle. Someone didn’t want whatever was behind them to be seen. He crept further up the stairs. 

The voices grew louder as he turned down another corridor. Listening closely, he could make out singing. He approached an ornate door and pressed his ear against the crack. 

“...Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Ginny...”

He’d interrupted his sister’s birthday celebration. His entire family was probably standing behind the door singing to her. He stepped back, reluctant to intrude, when his foot connected with something solid. Behind him stood a very old, very ugly house-elf dressed in nothing but a rag. It staggered back, clutching its snout-like nose. 

“Sorry,” whispered Percy. “Are you hurt?”

“Nasty boy, who dares enter my Mistress’s house, stepping on poor Kreacher’s face, filthy blood traitor,” it muttered under its breath. 

“Excuse me?” asked Percy. 

The house-elf ignored him. Instead, it grasped the serpent-shaped doorknob and opened the door. All the voices suddenly ceased, and he could see the room’s inhabitants for the first time. 

Ginny sat in the centre of a drawing room, a small pile of half-opened presents on the table in front of her. His mother was cutting into a homemade chocolate cake, the candles appearing to have just been blown out. All of his brothers, along with Harry and Hermione, turned to face him.

He stood frozen in place. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” yelled his father. He pushed himself up from the floor, where he had been clearing away wrapping paper.  

“I-I, um,” stuttered Percy. 

Bill turned and whispered something to Charlie. Both looked highly concerned. 

“You’re not welcome here,” spat George. 

“Nor were you invited,” finished Fred. 

The twins glared at him, still angry about their previous fight. His mother put down the knife and grabbed their shoulders, stopping them from acting rashly. 

“I’m truly sorry for interrupting, Ginny, but I’m not here for you. I’m searching for Harry Potter.”

Ron and Hermione immediately pushed themselves in front of Harry, shielding him from sight.

“What do you want with him?” Ron demanded.

Hermione seemed uncertain but didn’t make a move to say anything. 

“I have a message,” Percy explained. “Harry, can we speak privately for a moment?” 

Harry stared at him in confusion, glancing at his two best friends for help. “Uh...”

“You’re not taking him anywhere!” Ron shouted. “Whatever you want to say, you’ll have to say it in front of everyone.”

A bubble of anger surged in his chest, but he suppressed it. They didn’t trust him. 

“Fine,” Percy said, looking directly at Harry. “Your hearing tomorrow has been rescheduled to eight o’clock and will take place in Courtroom Ten.”

His father stepped forward and closed the distance between them. “Now, just wait a goddamn minute. How’d you get this information?” 

“That’s none of your concern,” said Percy coolly.

His father pointed a finger at his face. “If you think you can just waltz in here and—”

“Thank you,” interrupted Harry. 

Percy diverted his gaze from Arthur to Harry. He was silently grateful that he’d stopped his father before he could start ranting. 

“They’re planning to trial you before the entire Wizengamot. So, you’ll need to be prepared for a full court,” advised Percy. 

He turned to leave when something came to mind. “Oh, and Happy Birthday, Ginny. This is for you.” 

He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out her present. The wrapping was a little crumpled but not as bad as it could have been. His sister hesitantly stepped forward and took it. She looked questioningly up at him, not expecting him to remember her birthday. 

“Percy, wait,” she said, surprising both herself and Percy. “You don’t have to go. We’ve just cut the cake. Why don’t you stay and have a slice?” 

He looked at his father’s hardened expression, feeling more like an intruder than his son. The twins were right; he wasn’t welcome there. 

“Sorry, Ginny, but I can’t,” Percy sighed, slumping his shoulders as he left his family behind in the drawing room. He paused just outside the door. “Good luck with the hearing, Harry.” 

Chapter Text

A coffee was thrust into his hands the moment Percy Apparated into the Ministry Atrium. Jack had been waiting for him, leaning casually against the golden gates at the end of the hall. He took a long sip of his drink as he observed the morning rush. 

“Is there a reason you’re waiting out here?” asked Percy. 

Jack smiled behind his coffee, pointing to the staircase leading to floor ten. It was where the Wizengamot held its court. 

“I assume Harry hasn’t received his verdict?” 

“Not yet,” said Jack, lowering his voice. “I don’t think I've properly thanked you for delivering the message on time. Madam Bones sent word this morning that Harry and Dumbledore arrived as scheduled.” 

Percy took a sip of his coffee, feeling relieved that Harry had listened to him. “Do you think he’ll be acquitted?” 

“He should be. It was only a bit of underage magic.” Jack frowned at the staircase, not taking his eyes off it. “I mean, haven’t we all slipped up at some point? I know I’ve lost control of my magic plenty of times when I was younger. You don’t see me locked up for it.”

Percy remembered when he himself had received an official warning for performing accidental magic. At the time, he was ten years old and had been arguing with his siblings over a backyard Quidditch match. Nobody had wanted him on their team. In response to his anger, Percy’s magic had caused a localised rainstorm, forcing everyone to take cover inside. 

His mother was furious when she received the letter, as the Ministry had to send the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to restore the natural weather. The twins found it hilarious and called him “Resersi Percy” for months. 

“I’m sure Dumbledore will think of something,” assured Percy. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to his golden boy.” 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” teased Jack. 

“Oh, shove off!” Percy pushed him half-heartedly.

Jack suddenly stood up straight and pointed at an old wizard clad in midnight blue robes. “Hey, isn’t that him there?” 

There was no mistaking the long silver beard and half-moon spectacles. Dumbledore swept down the stairs, across the hall, and then Disapparated without a glance. 

“And he’s gone,” Jack noted. “Do you think that’s good or bad?”

Percy didn’t know; Dumbledore was difficult to read, even at the best of times. 

“It's hard to tell, but he was definitely in a rush.”

Then, a small but steady stream of wizards descended the stairs until the entire Wizengamot emerged from the courtrooms. The hearing had concluded. 

Jack stood back and watched, maintaining a relaxed stance, while Percy nervously fiddled with the lid of his half-drunk coffee. The crowd moved toward the lifts, their voices blending together as they discussed the case. He managed to catch a few snippets of the conversation: 

“...full corporeal Patronus...” 

“...dementors wandering in a Muggle suburb…” 

“...not a good look for the Ministry…” 

Amelia Bones came next. She adjusted her monocle while speaking with her fellow Department Heads, including his former boss, Mr. Dalloway. Amelia glanced at them as they rounded the corner and nodded once before returning to her associates. Jack immediately broke into a broad grin. 

“He’s been cleared,” he whispered to Percy. 

A wave of relief washed over him, and he exchanged a smile with Jack. “Thank Merlin. I was worried for a moment there.”

The crowd dispersed, leaving only a few stragglers behind, including the Minister and Lucius Malfoy. They were discussing something in low, hushed voices. 

“Interesting,” drawled Jack. “Very interesting.” He jotted down a few notes and slipped them into his Auror jacket. 

“Are you keeping tabs on whom the Minister speaks to?” asked Percy.

“Something like that…” he murmured, trailing off. 

The last person to descend the stairs was Harry Potter, accompanied by Arthur, who was acting as his temporary caregiver for the court proceedings. Before they left, his father was abruptly stopped by his older co-worker, Perkins. 

Harry seized the opportunity to approach the fountain and empty the contents of his coin bag into the water. When he looked up, Percy accidentally locked eyes with him from across the Atrium. It was too late to act as if he hadn't seen him. 

“Hello, Percy!” Harry called, waving. 

Jack stepped back, allowing them some space. 

“Hello, Harry,” waved Percy. “Congratulations, by the way. I heard you’ve been cleared of all charges.”

“Thanks in part to you. After you left Headquarters, Mr. Weasley contacted Dumbledore and informed him about the change. Not only did we arrive early, but I even had enough time to practise my testimony.”

Percy smiled. “I’m glad it went well.”

“The Minister was so flustered. You should’ve seen him,” laughed Harry. “I don’t think he expected us to be ready for a full court.” 

Fudge’s underhanded attempt to discredit Harry had been thwarted, but it didn’t bode well. How low will he sink to achieve his goals? He’d already targeted a boy who hadn’t done anything to him. Who's to say what he’ll do next?

“You should never have been tried in front of the Wizengamot to begin with,” Percy admitted. “Not for a simple case of underage magic.” 

Harry frowned deeply. “Yeah, the Minister seems like he’s out to get me.”

“Tell me about it,” empathised Percy. He knew all too well what it was like to be targeted by the Minister. 

There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Harry scratched the back of his neck. “So, um, what's going on with you and Mr. Weasley? Things got really heated yesterday, and uh, Ron has been acting strange about it.”

“It’s nothing. We’ve had an argument, that’s all,” Percy downplayed the situation. 

“It seems a bit more than that...” 

Percy took a large sip of his now cold coffee. “Yeah.”

“The twins also mentioned something rather absurd: that you’re our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Is that true?”

“There may be some truth to that,” Percy alluded. 

Harry’s brows shot up in surprise. “Aren’t you a little young to teach?”

Jack snorted behind him, prompting Percy to turn around and glare. 

“What?” Jack laughed. “The kid isn't wrong.”

“Listen, Harry. I didn’t have much of a choice. The Minister, he...” Percy stopped himself. “We shouldn’t discuss this here. Also, I think my father is looking for you.”

He pointed toward Arthur, who had indeed begun to call out for Harry. 

“Over here, Mr. Weasley!” shouted Harry, waving him over.

His father took a few steps forward before stiffening at the sight of Percy. Jack, sensing the tension, moved subtly closer to them. Percy was glad for the support. 

“There you are, Harry. I thought you had wandered off.” Arthur clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Do you mind if I speak to Percy for a moment? I won’t be long.” 

Harry nodded and stepped back to the fountain. Jack remained where he stood. 

“It’s fine,” whispered Percy. 

“If you need me, I’ll be over there,” Jack said quietly. 

Arthur cleared his throat and avoided looking directly at him. “So, you were right... about the hearing, that is,” he clarified. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Percy could count on one hand the number of times Arthur had apologised and still have fingers left to spare. 

His father fidgeted, feeling uneasy about the entire ordeal. “What I meant to say is, uh, thank you for telling us,” he said in a strained voice. 

It was a start, but it wasn't enough. Percy needed an apology. He needed his father to admit his wrongdoings.

“Is that all?”

Arthur frowned. “I, um, shouldn’t have flown off the handle before hearing what you had to say. I thought you might be lying or misinformed by the Minister.”

Percy threw his hands up in exasperation. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I haven’t lied about anything. The Minister isn’t as harmless as you all seem to think. He’s willing to change the law to get what he wants. Just look at today: he held a full court hearing for a case of underage magic.”

“Alright, you make a valid point, but what’s done is done. Harry has been acquitted.”

“Don’t you think you owe me an apology, then?” Percy emphasised. 

His father gazed at him warily. “Fine, I’m sorry for not listening.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And that you’re sorry for putting yourself and our entire family at risk. I warned you about the Minister, but you didn’t believe me.” Percy swallowed his frustration. He couldn’t lose his cool, not here, not when his father was actually talking with him. 

Arthur stepped back. “T-That’s not... I haven’t...” He paused to gather his thoughts. “We both said some regrettable things. I was wrong to say you’d betrayed us, but you were entirely out of line for speaking to me like that.”

Percy balled his fists as a cold rage engulfed him. When would his father take responsibility for his actions? 

“Just stop!” Percy yelled, digging his nails into his palms to ground himself. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done arguing with you.”

Arthur looked just as tired as Percy felt. 

“Then, there isn't much more to say.”

“I guess not.”

Percy clenched and unclenched his fists while Arthur picked at his shirt sleeve.

The silence was deafening. 

“I don’t want to leave things like this,” Percy sighed. 

“It never should’ve reached this point,” admitted Arthur. “My temper got the better of me.” 

Percy wondered when it had become this bad between them. They no longer felt like father and son. Somewhere along the way, they had drifted apart, and now all that remained was resentment. 

“How about this?” suggested Percy. “We promise to keep things civil: no more yelling, no more bad-mouthing.” He knew Arthur had riled up his siblings; otherwise, they wouldn't have been so heated toward him. “I don’t expect you to be thrilled to see me, but at least give me the common courtesy of listening to what I have to say. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, alright,” Arthur agreed. 

Percy wrapped his arms around his chest. It wasn’t the best outcome, but at least they could be amiable. 

“I’ll see you around?” Percy asked, a bit uncertain. 

“Of course.” Arthur hesitated. “You’re, um, welcome to join us at Headquarters if you’d like?” 

“No, I want nothing to do with the Order.” Or Dumbledore, he thought. 

Arthur nodded and shouted over his shoulder to the fountain, “Come along, Harry. We should get going!” 

Harry jumped up too quickly for someone who was supposedly not listening. 

“I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Percy,” said Harry, waving goodbye before departing with Arthur in the visitor phone booth. 

Jack gently touched Percy’s arm, causing him to flinch. 

“You alright?” asked Jack. 

“Yeah.” His mouth felt like sandpaper. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

They stepped into a lift, and Percy finally relaxed, slumping against the wall. Things were never easy for him. 

“Your father is quite a stubborn man,” observed Jack. 

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Percy laughed mirthlessly. 

“Has he always been this hard on you?”

Percy ran his fingers through his hair in deep thought. 

“I’ve never been as close to my father as my siblings are. Growing up, I felt like the odd one out—no one's favourite,” he admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I was loved but not always liked.”

“I’m sorry you were treated that way,” consoled Jack. “You didn’t deserve that. We don’t often get to choose our family, but we can make the best of what we do have.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Percy sighed. “Are you close with your family?”

“Yeah, with my mum. She’s an amazing woman who single-handedly raised me while maintaining a full-time career as a diplomat. As for my father...” Jack cleared his throat. “I, uh, never got to meet him.”

It seemed to be a painful subject for him. Percy discreetly changed the conversation. 

“I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” he asked. 

“Sure, what is it?” Jack smiled effortlessly, reverting to a more laid-back attitude. 

“I need you to do a bit of recon for me. On Thursdays, my father stays late at the Ministry. Could you find out where he goes and what he does?”

Despite his numerous warnings, Arthur continued to put himself at risk, leaving Percy no choice but to take matters into his own hands. And for that, he needed information. 

“Is he in some kind of trouble?” asked Jack. 

“Not yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Percy shot him a pointed look. 

“Understood. He’ll never know I was there.”

Percy had complete faith in Jack's stealth abilities. He was an Auror, after all. One way or another, he would ensure his father’s safety. 

The following week, Percy jolted awake to a gentle tapping on his bedroom window. Hermes and five other owls were waiting patiently for him, all squished together on his windowsill. An enormous smile spread across his face. He had officially turned nineteen. 

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and opened the window. All the owls flew inside, including Ron’s tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, who zoomed around the ceiling in a frenzy. He collected the letters and packages, placing them in a small pile at the end of his bed. 

“There’s some water on the porch downstairs if you’re thirsty,” Percy told the owls. 

All of them, except Hermes, flew back out the window. He gently patted his owl’s head, stroking the feathers under his beak. Hermes hooted softly, relishing the affection. 

Percy sat cross-legged on his bed, sorting through his gifts, unable to wipe the grin off his face. Let’s see what I have here, he thought. 

As he opened the first card, he read a kind message from one of his schoolmates, Noah Johnson, who had kept in touch with him after graduation. Another card was from Charlotte Jones, a Ravenclaw friend he had met through his girlfriend. It was lovely that they remembered his birthday. 

Penelope had also sent him a note. They had dinner plans after work, so he wouldn’t be able to see her until then. His birthday had fallen on a weekday that year, meaning he would spend most of it at the Ministry. 

Three of the parcels came from his siblings. Bill and Charlie had both sent him a box of his favourite Honeydukes chocolates (Honeycomb Crunch). He set them aside for later. The final present had been delivered by Pigwidgeon. He hadn’t expected anything from Ron, so he wisely read the attached card first, just in case it was a prank gift.

Dear Percy,

Happy Birthday! 

I'm sorry I didn’t get to thank you the other day for my present. The gloves are awesome! Maybe I’ll try out for Quidditch this year. Who knows, I might even make the team.

I hope you enjoy your gift. Mum picked it up for me when she collected our school books for the year.

Also, Harry told us about your argument with Dad. I hadn’t realised that the Minister forced you to become a professor. We all thought you wanted the job ‘cause Dad said you accepted it without consulting the family. I’ve tried discussing it with the others, but only Bill and Charlie were willing to listen. 

P.S. Ron’s a Prefect. Who’d have guessed!?

~ Ginny

He opened the brown paper packaging to reveal a set of Diricawl quills. The feathers were a stunning bluish-pink with a gold band in the centre. They’d be perfect for Hogwarts. He smiled softly to himself; Ginny had always been the more supportive sibling. 

Percy lined up his cards on his bedside table. It was a shame that neither Ron nor the twins had sent him a birthday message, but he wasn’t surprised. They were just as stubborn as his father, if not more so. However, there would be plenty of opportunities at Hogwarts to mend things, as they would face him daily as their professor. 

On a brighter note, he was pleasantly surprised that Ron had followed in his footsteps by becoming a Prefect. Both his brother and Harry had gotten into mischief more times than he could count, so he hoped Ron would take the responsibility seriously. 

After breakfast, Percy Apparated to the Ministry and made his way to Autumn’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see the shadows of two people inside. They were whispering in low, hushed voices. 

He swiftly drew his wand and lowered it, keeping it hidden. With his other hand, he pushed open the door.

BANG!!

Two confetti tubes were launched at his face, only to land on his Shield Charm harmlessly. The rainbow pieces fluttered down to the office floor. 

“Happy Birthday!” Autumn and Jack shouted in unison.

Percy released the shield and tucked his wand back into his pocket, pleased that he had avoided the hassle of picking confetti out of his hair for the rest of the day. 

“Aw! You’re no fun!” whined Jack.

“Don’t listen to him,” Autumn grinned. “He’s just upset that you reacted faster than he could throw.”

His face lit up with a huge smile. “You guys didn’t have to do anything for my birthday.”

Jack leaned against the desk, picking up a wrapped gift. “Then I guess you don’t want these?”

“I didn’t say that,” Percy backtracked. 

Autumn pushed Jack off her desk, causing him to stumble to his feet. “Mind where you sit, alright? Some of us like to keep a tidy office,” she chastised. 

Percy laughed at the offended look Jack gave her. 

“Here.” Autumn plucked Percy’s gift from Jack’s hands. “Open mine first.”

He carefully unwrapped the paper, peeling it back to reveal a leather satchel. It was a beautiful dark brown, with his initials etched in gold on the front. 

“Thank you, Autumn. It’s wonderful.” He draped it over his shoulder, adjusting it to rest against his hip. 

“I’m glad you like it! It’s important to have a proper bag for all your supplies. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve also taken the liberty of applying a Feather-light Charm,” explained Autumn. 

Percy opened the satchel and saw a single Galleon rolling around inside. “A Galleon?” he questioned.

Jack snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re the superstitious type?” he asked Autumn.

“Hey! Gifting an empty bag is a bad omen.” She crossed her arms, frowning. “And Percy doesn’t need any more misfortune.”

She was, unfortunately, right. 

“Fine. Believe what you want,” Jack conceded. “Now, how about opening my present next?” He handed Percy a large box. 

It was both heavy and bulky. Propping it up on the desk, he cast “Diffindo” and cut a straight line down the centre. Inside the box was something resembling a mirror but lacking reflective glass. He pulled it out and inspected the strange device. 

“It’s a Foe-Glass,” Jack revealed. “I know a guy who knows a guy who makes them.”

Percy peered into the glass and saw several shadowy figures. He couldn’t make out their faces. 

“I’ve read about these,” said Percy. “They're a type of Dark Detector, intended to reveal enemies lurking nearby.”

Autumn peered past Percy at the device. “That’s surprisingly impressive, Jack. You’ve certainly put in more effort than I thought you would.”

“Rude,” huffed Jack. “For the record, I’m quite thoughtful.”

“And humble, too,” teased Autumn. 

“So, tell us, Percy, can you see any enemies? Is Autumn here plotting your demise as we speak?” Jack laughed. 

“No, the figures are too distant for me to make out their faces. However, one of them resembles the Minister if I squint.”

“Ah, well. You can bring it with you to Hogwarts. That way, you’ll know if anyone is trying to get you.”

“Thanks, Jack.” He smiled at the thoughtfulness of his two friends. 

A loud knock at the door interrupted them. An Auror clad in a black-and-gold uniform burst in. 

“Auror Whittaker, there's a situation, and they’re calling for all hands on deck. We leave in five minutes!” they shouted at Jack before rushing out of the office and down the hallway.

He wondered what kind of situation warranted that many Aurors.

“Duty calls! I’ll see you guys at lunch.” Jack waved before heading back to his department.

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” asked Percy, staring at the empty spot he’d left behind.

“Knowing Jack, he’ll be fine.”

Percy knew that Jack was highly trained and equipped to handle any dangerous wizard or witch. However, he couldn’t shake his worry throughout the day. Each time he passed the Auror Headquarters, he peeked inside to see if Jack had returned. 

When lunch arrived, Percy and Autumn walked into the break room without him. Just as they turned the corner, Percy accidentally bumped into his father’s shoulder, who looked just as surprised to see him. They both froze in place. 

Arthur cleared his throat, feeling its sudden dryness. “Um, happy birthday, son.”

Autumn sensed the tension between them. “I’ll, uh, get us a table then. See you in a bit, Percy,” she said, eyeing Arthur with distrust. 

His father rubbed his arm awkwardly. “Your mother wanted you to know that she would stop by after work to see you. She’s bringing a cake, I believe.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They stood in silence. Things hadn’t returned to normal yet. 

“Well, I, uh, have to go,” said Arthur. 

“Bye, then.”

Percy strolled over to Autumn, who had been watching their conversation—or lack thereof. 

“I see that things still haven’t improved much between you and your father,” she stated. 

“He’s trying, I think,” said Percy. “We’re both walking on eggshells around each other, but at least he’s acknowledging my existence.” 

“Has he said anything else to you?” 

Autumn pushed a plate toward him; she had grabbed his favourite meal from the buffet. 

“Thanks,” said Percy, poking at the beef wellington. “Not since the trial. I don’t really want to dwell on it.”

“Then don’t; it’s your birthday, after all.”

They ate in comfortable silence before Autumn’s co-workers joined the table. They started gossiping about the Auror raid that occurred that morning. 

“Did you hear that they raided Elphias Doge’s manor?” one of them asked. 

“Yeah, I spoke to Auror Proudfoot—he and my aunt go way back. Well, he told me they had received a special tip that Doge was harbouring illegal Chimaera parts.”

“Really!? The same Doge who serves as a Special Advisor to the Wizengamot? He seems quite harmless to me.”

“I heard he takes annual trips to Greece and brings back live Chimaera eggs. They’re a Class A Non-Tradeable Material. He could face up to ten years in Azkaban.”

Autumn leant over to Percy and whispered in his ear, “Wasn’t Doge a close friend of Dumbledore’s? Do you think that’s why he was targeted?”

Percy strongly suspected that this was the case. Elphias Doge was also a member of the Order and a known supporter of Harry Potter. He would not be surprised if the Minister had given the command to raid his house. 

“I see the rumour mill is as active as ever,” a masculine voice behind him said. 

Jack had returned safe and sound, with hardly a hair out of place. He grinned at them. 

“You’re back!” called Autumn. “Is it true? Does Doge run an underground Chimaera business?”

“Nothing that wild, I’m afraid. We found an old Chimaera claw. It must have been at least fifty years old.”

“So, did you arrest him?” asked Percy. 

“Well, yeah, it’s still illegal to own, regardless of how old it is. Doge couldn’t dodge that one.” He flashed a lopsided grin at his own pun. 

Percy groaned; his jokes were terrible. 

“Sorry to miss lunch,” apologised Jack as he picked at the leftovers on Percy’s plate. “We’ll be handling the paperwork for the rest of the day.”

“Ah, the downsides of being an Auror,” teased Percy. 

When Percy Apparated home later that day, his mother was waiting for him inside The Burrow. He placed his gifts on the kitchen table and found her reorganising the cupboards. She had removed all the dishes, pots, and pans and arranged them on the counters, creating a huge mess. 

Percy cleared his throat. “I’m home, Mum.”

Molly turned around, wiped her hands on her apron, and then hugged him warmly. “Happy birthday, Perce! Nineteen years old! I can’t believe how quickly time flies.” 

Percy stepped back after she released him. 

“I made you a vanilla sponge cake with berry frosting. It’s on the counter.”

He took a moment to spot the cake wedged between a strainer and a measuring jug. 

“Thanks. May I ask what you’re doing with all of this?” he gestured at the mess. 

“I was looking for a container to put your cake in, but I noticed that you’ve put everything away incorrectly, so I decided to help you by reorganising it,” she explained. 

He wished his mother wouldn’t treat him as though he were incapable of looking after himself. Before she touched them, the counters were spotless. 

“By making a mess?” asked Percy. 

Molly frowned. “It won’t be a mess once I finish.”

He sighed deeply, not wanting to fight on his birthday. “Listen, just... leave it. I’ll deal with it later.”

“If you’re sure, dear. Why don’t we sit down and enjoy some tea?”

He checked his pocket watch. Penelope wouldn’t return from St. Mungo’s for another forty-five minutes.

“Alright, let me put the kettle on.”

They settled in the lounge room, each with a cup of tea and a slice of homemade cake. Molly pulled out a wrapped parcel and handed it to him. 

“This is from me and your father. He wanted to apologise for not being here. Something unexpected came up.” 

“You don’t need to lie to me, Mum. I talked with him today at work. It’s fine,” stressed Percy. 

He unwrapped the paper and pulled out an ivy-green knitted jumper and a pair of woolly socks. 

“It’ll be cold at Hogwarts,” said Molly. “You’ll need to rug up.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

He gulped down the last of his tea, collected the dirty dishes and dumped them in the sink. 

“Listen, I need to get ready for tonight. My girlfriend and I have dinner reservations at seven,” said Percy. 

“How is Penelope? I rarely see her anymore,” his mother accused. 

“You know she’s busy, Mum. I mentioned that she's interning at St. Mungo’s.”

He had the same conversation with her numerous times before. Yet, she always found a way to make him feel guilty. 

“Still, you’d think she would’ve made the time,” she complained. 

He refused to get into it. “Thanks for stopping by, but I can’t be late.”

Percy guided her to the front door, opening it with a flick of his wand. 

“Oh, okay then. I’ll Floo call you Saturday at noon.”

“Goodbye, Mum.”

Percy closed the door behind him and rushed to get ready. He changed out of his work clothes into a royal blue shirt and black dress pants. There was just enough time to style his hair. He grabbed a comb and squeezed a Knut-sized dollop of pomade into his hands, working it until his hair parted to the right with a slight wave. 

With a soft pop, he Apparated to the outskirts of Penelope’s flat. The sprinklers in her garden were on, watering the flowerbeds. Percy avoided the spray trickling onto the footpath before knocking on her front door. 

“Come in!” shouted Penelope. 

When Percy opened the door, he almost tripped on the pile of mail left on the mat. There were bills, papers, and an assortment of letters. He picked them up and placed them on the kitchen counter. Penelope had an unfortunate habit of neglecting household chores when stressed about an assignment. 

“I’m in the bathroom,” she called to him. 

He grabbed her purse from the counter and sat down on the edge of the bed. His girlfriend rushed out of the bathroom, narrowly missing his foot, and then marched over to her wardrobe. He tucked his legs out of the way. 

Penelope straightened her hair and secured it with a silver dragonfly clip that had once belonged to her mother. Her dress hugged her figure, making her look absolutely breathtaking. The silver satin swayed as she rummaged through the drawers, searching for a pair of shoes.

“Percy, have you seen my heels? The little black ones with the straps?”

“You put them next to your mirror,” he pointed out. 

“Right.”

Penelope sat beside him and quickly put on the heels, tying the straps around her ankles. Percy reached out and lovingly brushed her arm. She leaned into the touch, smiling sweetly at him. 

“Oh, before I forget, happy birthday, Perce.” She reached up and gently kissed him, leaving them both slightly breathless and wanting more. 

“Wow.” He grinned at her.  

“Now, come on, we’re going to be late,” she laughed. “I just need to grab my—”

Percy handed Penelope her purse. 

“Thanks. You’re always one step ahead.” 

She reached over and adjusted his shirt, unbuttoning the top two buttons. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Just fixing it. You look better this way.” Her hands lingered for a moment on his chest. 

His heartbeat quickened. 

“We should go,” he said, breathless. 

He stood, pulling Penelope up with him. They entered the lounge to use the fireplace. After tossing a handful of Floo Powder into the fire, they said “Helikonios” and travelled in a vibrant swirl of green flames. 

The pair stepped out of the fireplace and into a restaurant lobby. For a moment, all they could do was stop and stare at the stunning display before them. Helikonios was a fine dining experience located fifty feet below sea level. The ocean completely surrounded them, held back by a magical dome. In the water, spheres of light danced around the coral gardens, illuminating the restaurant with an ethereal green glow. 

Penelope gasped as a large Hippocampus swam by. The sea creature had the head and forequarters of a horse and the tail and hindquarters of a fish. Behind it swam its offspring: three little tadfoals. 

“It’s unreal,” said Percy. “How’d you get a booking?”

“I’ve been waiting since last Christmas to get on the list,” Penelope replied. 

“Should we sit down? I think we’re holding up the line.” 

Another couple was patiently waiting for them to move since the only safe way to access the restaurant was via Floo. As soon as they stepped onto the dining room floor, a waiter approached them.

“Do you have a reservation?” they inquired.

“Yes, it should be under Clearwater,” said Penelope.

The waiter regarded her oddly. “Actually, the ocean is saltwater.”

Percy stifled a laugh. “Clearwater is her surname.”

The waiter blushed bright red and held up a finger. “One moment.” A list was summoned into their hands, where they checked off Penelope’s name. “Just this way, please.”

They were seated near the edge of the room, right against the dome. Percy held out Penelope’s chair and pushed it in as she sat. Next to them was an impressive variety of colourful marine life.

“I wonder if they summon the fish directly from the water to our plates,” joked Penelope. 

“For the price, I expect nothing less,” said Percy. 

They each looked over the menu, deciding what to order. Every dish was sourced locally and featured seasonal ingredients, including delicacies such as iced caviar, tartare, and candied seaweed. 

Percy chose a safer option: Atlantic salmon on a bed of oceanic foam. Penelope opted to try ceviche, a dish made of raw shellfish marinated in a citrus base and tossed with onions, tomato, and cucumber. The waiter took their orders and disappeared into the kitchen. 

“Did you have a nice birthday?” asked Penelope. 

“It’s been good, but it's been a busy day at work. I don’t know if you heard about the Auror raid?” Penelope shook her head. “Well, they found a Chimaera claw in Elphias Doge’s manor this morning.”

“Really!? Is that the one that explodes on contact?”

“No, you’re thinking of an Erumpent horn. A Chimaera is a fire-breathing monster with two heads—one of a lion and the other of a goat—and a snake for a tail. Its claws are deathly venomous.”

“Why’d he have that if it was so dangerous?” asked Penelope. 

Percy paused. “I, uh, don’t know. Jack mentioned that he was arrested, so I’m fairly certain they’re questioning him about it.” 

Now that he thought about it, why had Doge kept the claw all these years? According to Jack, it was over fifty years old. He could’ve easily disposed of it without incriminating himself.  

“Did you see your parents today?” asked Penelope, changing the topic.

“Yeah, Mum came over after work. I found her rearranging the cupboards. So, lucky me, I’ll have a huge mess to clean up when I get home.”

“Sounds fun,” Penelope sympathised. 

“Dad also wished me a happy birthday,” admitted Percy. 

“Oh, that’s good.” She studied his face intently. “But your expression suggests otherwise. What’s wrong?”

Percy let out a loud sigh. “The same as always. I want an apology, but he doesn’t want to discuss anything, so we’re at a standstill. How can I get him to acknowledge his faults if he doesn’t believe he’s done anything wrong?” 

“There isn't much you can do,” Penelope advised. “Your father needs to figure this out on his own.”

Before Percy could respond, the waiter approached with their dishes. The delightful aroma of fresh seafood made his mouth water. He took a bite and then another. His meal was bursting with flavour.  

“We have an interesting patient in the ward,” Penelope continued. “He’s an Unspeakable, so they’re being very hush-hush about the cause of his injury.”

“An Unspeakable?” questioned Percy. “I haven’t heard of any workplace accidents.”

“You wouldn’t. They’re very tight-lipped when it comes to the Department of Mysteries. I doubt even the Minister knows every experiment they’re conducting.”

“So, what type of injury is it?” Percy asked, his curiosity piqued. 

“Not conclusive at this time, but it’s affected his mind. When he isn't in a comatose state, he believes he’s a teapot.”

“Sheesh,” Percy winced. “What kind of magic could do that?”

“It’s hard to tell. The department won’t share what he touched to cause this.” Penelope’s face darkened. “There are also signs of a struggle. I don’t think it was an accident.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “Have you informed your supervisor about this?”

“I have, but she hasn’t done anything about it.”

It was starting to sound like a cover-up to Percy. 

“If you suspect foul play, we need to report it. How about I speak to Jack? He’s equipped to handle these types of situations,” said Percy. 

Penelope gazed at her plate. “Okay, but please don’t mention my name. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

“I won't,” agreed Percy. “So, when was he brought in?”

“His co-workers found him mid-morning on the twelfth of August. It’s difficult to determine how long he had been incapacitated, but it was no more than a few hours.”

Percy closed his mouth in shock. He had been there that day; the twelfth of August marked the morning of Harry’s trial.

Could they be connected in some way? The entire Wizengamot had been in Courtroom Ten, just one level above the Department of Mysteries. Any one of them could have snuck down and assaulted the Unspeakable. 

“You alright, Perce?” Penelope asked softly. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” He set his worries aside for now, wanting to enjoy his evening.

The waiter returned to collect their dirty plates. Penelope ordered a dessert for them to share: a chocolate raspberry tart. It was a delightful conclusion to their dinner. 

“Before we go, I have one more surprise for you.” Penelope opened her purse and pulled out a miniature wrapped present. She cast the counter-charm, restoring it to its original size. “This is for you.”

He untied the string, allowing the paper to fall open. Inside was a handsome brown overcoat crafted from a thick wool and cashmere blend. It featured a double-breasted button closure.

An enormous smile spread across his face. “I love it! Thank you, Penny.” 

She smiled at her nickname. “I’m glad you like it. I thought you could wear it at Hogwarts since you can’t wear a uniform anymore. Scottish winters are the worst.”

He embraced her in a tight hug. “It’s perfect.”

Penelope wrapped her arms around his waist as he softly kissed the top of her head. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a herd of Hippocampi swimming across the reef, happily somersaulting and twirling in the water.

“Look at that,” whispered Percy. There had to be about thirty of them. 

“Amazing,” breathed Penelope. 

It was the little moments like these that made Percy truly appreciate the magic of the world. 

Chapter Text

The window to Percy’s bedroom was ajar, allowing a soft breeze to gently caress his face. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cool sensation. Somewhere behind him, Penelope sat, pulling out the drawers of his nightstand. Half-folded boxes and an old copy of the Daily Prophet were scattered across the floor. They’d crumpled the paper into little balls to serve as padding.

Percy was officially moving out of The Burrow.  

His bedroom walls, usually adorned with framed photographs, had been cleared, leaving only faint outlines behind. He had them stacked on his desk, ready to be packed away. 

“Oi, Perce! Are you going to sit there, or are you going to help me with this?” asked Penelope, struggling to lift a heavy cardboard box. 

They’d spent the whole morning deciding what Percy should and shouldn’t take to Hogwarts. Everything else was to be stored in the shed. 

“Sorry, just enjoying the breeze,” apologised Percy. 

He took hold of the other side of the box, and they carried it down the stairs together. Unfortunately, with so many magical items inside, they couldn’t risk using magic to make it easier. It might negate the magic altogether.

“You seem a little preoccupied. What’s the matter?” asked Penelope. 

Percy sighed. “I don’t think I’m coming back here, after Hogwarts, I mean.”

They carefully set the box down on the ground and took a moment to rest. 

“It’s alright to feel sad,” Penelope said, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking up at him softly. “This is your childhood home. Moving out is a big step.”

“You’re right. I just pictured things differently, you know? I thought my parents would at least see me off,” admitted Percy. 

“Did you want them here now?”

Things had vastly improved between him and his father, but he still hadn’t reached the stage of forgiveness. 

“No.”

Percy opened the shed door, and they picked up the box again, shifting it into the corner beside the others.  

“You’re more than welcome to stay at my place during breaks,” Penelope offered. 

“Thanks,” Percy smiled softly. It was one less thing to worry over.  

“That way, you can do all my chores while I’m busy studying,” she teased playfully. 

He grinned. “Oh, ha ha. I didn’t realise your offer would come with stipulations.” 

“Beggars can’t be choosers!” Penelope stuck her tongue out at him before dashing back upstairs. 

“Hey! Get back here,” yelled Percy. 

When he caught up to her, she’d already opened another box and begun placing his books inside. 

“Leave the novels; I’ll just take the textbooks with me,” Percy instructed. 

Penelope stacked a pile of novels to the side, making brief comments about his taste in literature. 

“Adventure…fantasy…all pretty standard stuff.” She then pulled out another. It was a worn book featuring a picture of a woman and a man on the cover. “Is this romance I spy?” 

“Never mind that.”

Percy snatched the book from her hands and tucked it behind his back. A faint blush spread across his cheeks. He’d forgotten he even had that. Percy had snuck it out of Bill’s room long ago, back during his Hogwarts years.

“Oh, is it naughty?” teased Penelope. 

Percy spluttered and blushed an even deeper shade of red. “That’s none of your business.”

“Alright, keep your secrets.” 

He tucked it away out of sight, burying it beneath a ton of other books. 

Once they’d cleared his desk, they opened his wardrobe and sorted through years’ worth of clothes. Penelope held up each garment and then tossed it into a keep, donate, or trash pile. It was the perfect excuse to finally get rid of all his old, tattered hand-me-downs. 

“Look how cute this is!” squealed Penelope, holding up a puffy chevron jacket. It was four sizes too small, with threads dangling from the sleeves. “Perfect for little Percy!”

He smiled as he picked it up. “I think I might be a tad too big for this now.” 

Growing up with a Muggle-obsessed father, he often wore mundane clothing pilfered from the local op shop. 

“Do you remember wearing it?” asked Penelope. 

“Not really. I would’ve been about eight or nine years old. I’m surprised it wasn’t passed down to the twins or Ron. Where’d you even find it?”

“Stuffed at the back of your wardrobe. Maybe you kept it for a reason.”

Percy picked up the jacket and inspected it closely. He rifled through the pockets and found a couple of Knuts, a candy wrapper, and a crinkled piece of paper. 

“A whole two Knuts; must be my lucky day,” Percy said with a cheeky grin. 

He was about to throw out the rest when a tiny, scribbled date caught his eye. It was in his handwriting, dated ten years ago. Carefully unfolding the paper, Percy discovered a drawing he’d made of his family. Penelope peeked over his shoulder to have a look. 

She frowned. “That’s sad. Look at how you’ve drawn yourself next to everyone else.”

“What do you mean?” asked Percy, as all the figures looked the same to him. 

“You're the only one not in a pair. See,” Penelope pointed at the drawing, “There’s your dad and mum, Bill and Charlie, the twins, and Ron and Ginny. You’re over here playing on your own.”

She was right. Even though he grew up in a family of nine, his childhood was quite lonely. All his siblings had a favourite brother, and he wasn’t one of them.

Percy folded the picture in half, tucked it back into the jacket, and tossed it into the trash. Some things just aren’t worth keeping. 

A couple of hours later, the pair had finished packing up his bedroom. They locked the shed and moved his belongings to the edge of the property. Percy took one last look at The Burrow; it’d been his home for the last nineteen years of his life. 

Penelope squeezed his hand, picking up on his sadness. “You ready?”

“No, but I’ve got to anyway,” he said. 

He turned away from the house and flung out his wand arm. 

Bang!

A triple-decker bus swung around the corner and slammed on its brakes, stopping just a foot from the fence line. A young man dressed in a purple uniform leapt down onto the driveway to greet them.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus! If you’d be so kind as to hop on board, we can take you anywhere you’d like to go. My name’s Stan Shunpike, and I’ll be your conductor this mornin’.”   

Percy pulled out his coin bag. “I’d like two basic tickets, please. We also have four boxes we need to take.”

“That’ll be one Galleon an’ five Sickles.”

After paying him, Stan bent down to grab his belongings, but Percy stopped him. Instead, he pulled out his wand and levitated them inside, saving the poor man’s back. Penelope selected a couple of mismatched chairs near the front, and he tucked the boxes underneath. 

Stan passed them their tickets and asked where they were headed. 

“Hogwarts, please,” answered Percy. 

“A bit early for ‘Ogwarts, ain't it? I thought term didn’t start ‘till September.”

“We’re not students.” He left it at that. 

They settled into their seats, and a few minutes later, the Knight Bus screeched to a halt outside the gates. Stan waved them goodbye, and the bus took off again, speeding around the corner in a mad dash. Percy had managed to keep his breakfast down, but poor Penelope didn’t fare as well. She leaned against the gate, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. 

“Ugh, I always forget about motion sickness,” she grumbled. 

He rubbed her back. “Feeling better?”

“A little, thanks.”

Percy pulled out his wand and tapped the gates. It accepted his magic and granted them entry to the grounds. They had a lengthy walk ahead of them. 

The castle loomed in the distance, as magnificent as ever. It sat atop a high mountain, wedged between the Forbidden Forest and the dark, murky waters of the Black Lake. Percy levitated his boxes in front of him as he trekked uphill to the giant oak front doors. 

When he reached them, he tapped the knocker once, and the doors swung open into the Entrance Hall. Before they could step inside, an old, haggard man with thinning grey hair hobbled toward them. It was Filch, the caretaker. 

“And what do you think you’re doing!?” he yelled at them. 

“Entering the castle?” questioned Penelope. 

Filch slowed down and stopped to catch his breath. “There’s proper protocol—” he wheezed, “—to follow.”

Percy lowered the boxes to the ground. 

“This should’ve already been organised with Professor McGonagall. I’ve got her letter right here.”

He fished it out of his pocket and passed it to Filch, who snatched it quickly. The caretaker mumbled under his breath as he read the letter.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Filch conceded. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

They followed him inside the Entrance Hall. 

“...A Weasley becoming a professor...” Filch muttered to himself. “...what on earth were they thinking...”

Percy tried to block him out while they climbed another flight of stairs. 

“Oh, yes, you think I don’t remember you two?” he said, glaring at them. “A pair of troublemakers. Caught you in a broom closet, I did…” 

Percy spluttered, “That was just one time, and we weren’t doing anything wrong.”

In their fifth year, when their relationship was still a secret, they would sneak around in empty classrooms and the occasional broom closet. It was mostly innocent stuff. Once, before classes started, Filch caught them off guard during one of their make-out sessions. They were beyond mortified and became more careful about where they hid from that point on. 

Penelope glared at Filch in disgust. “You know, we can take it from here, thanks,” she said coolly. “And hand over his room key as well.”

Filch pulled out a large set of keys and gave Percy a small bronze one, shoving it into his hands. 

“Take it,” he spat. “Ungrateful sods, just like the rest of them students…” He stormed back towards the castle entrance. 

“Come on, let’s get a move on before he comes back,” Penelope urged. 

Once they unlocked the DADA classroom, the pair quickly checked out the room. It was quiet and cold and lacking any personal touches. There was a blackboard, an iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a projector on wheels, and about thirty desks and chairs. Professor McGonagall had written to him earlier in the week, explaining that each professor was expected to bring their own materials and furnishings. Thus, anything that had once belonged to Alastor Moody (or rather stolen by Crouch Jr.) had been cleared out. 

At the back of the classroom, a set of stone steps led into what he presumed was the office. He unlocked it with the key Filch had provided and stepped into a dark room. Inside were two doors, one connecting to a bathroom and the other to his personal quarters. The Hogwarts house-elves had prepared ahead for him, stocking the space with toiletries, bedding, and a small platter of fruits, cheeses, and water biscuits. 

“This is nice,” remarked Penelope, popping a grape into her mouth. “And look, you’ve even got your own fireplace. You can Floo call anytime you like.”

That would be especially handy when travelling between Hogwarts and the Ministry.

“Is that your way of saying to stay in touch?” he joked. 

“Oh, please. We both know you’ll be at mine every weekend,” she teased. 

They both grabbed a box and started unpacking. Penelope opened the wardrobe and hung up his clothes while Percy stacked his textbooks on the shelves. He’d just finished hanging his Certificate of Graduation when he heard laughter drifting in from the classroom. Autumn and Jack had arrived.

“Percy! There you are,” Autumn said, casually leaning against the blackboard. “You won’t believe what happened to us on the way up here.”

“Oh, Autumn, Jack, I’m glad you could make it,” said Percy.

They had kindly agreed to help him set up the classroom. Beside them, he spied a couple of grey plastic containers marked with the Department of Education logo. 

Jack hoisted himself onto a desk, dangling his legs over the edge. “What else were we going to do with our weekend?” he said sarcastically. 

“Ignore him,” said Autumn. “We’re happy to lend a hand.” She lifted the lid off one of the containers. “Plus, I managed to get several Ministry-approved posters, diagrams, and models for you to borrow.”

“Thanks.” Percy smiled brightly. “I was worried my classroom might’ve been too plain.”

“I, um, brought some stuff, too,” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

He didn’t spot any other containers, so whatever it was must’ve been pocket-sized. 

“So, what were you saying before? Did something happen on your way up here?” asked Percy.

“Oh, that,” laughed Jack. “It’s nothing, really. When we got to the first floor, Filch bumped straight into us. Didn’t apologise or anything. Just muttered under his breath about disrespectful students and then took off. I reckon he’s broken or something.”

“Yeah,” Percy grimaced, “we might’ve set him off earlier.”

“We?” asked Jack.

“Right, I haven't introduced you guys yet.” Percy turned around and called out to the office, “Penelope! Can you come out for a moment?”

Penelope strolled down the stairs, clutching an empty cardboard box. “What is it, Perce?” She halted when she spotted Autumn, and a huge grin lit her face. “Autumn! It’s so good to see you!” 

“Penelope, how are you?” They exchanged a quick hug. “I hope your placement is going well. Sorry, I haven’t been able to keep in touch. As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve been reassigned.”

Percy had nearly forgotten that Autumn used to be Penelope’s A.I.D. advisor.

Jack stared at them, puzzled. “I think I’ve missed something important here. Who exactly are you?”

“Oh, right. Penelope, this is Jack, the Auror I mentioned. And Jack, this is Penelope, my girlfriend,” Percy introduced. 

“Girlfriend!?” said Jack dumbfounded. “You have a girlfriend?”

Percy felt offended. “What’d you mean by that?”

“I thought you were… you know?” Jack gestured wildly with his hands. 

“No? I don’t know.” 

Autumn scoffed. “He’s just jealous that you have a partner while he doesn’t.” 

“Oh, you’re single?” Penelope chimed in. “I never would’ve guessed.” She grinned cheekily. 

“Alright, I get it. No need to team up on me,” conceded Jack. “So, are we gonna set up this classroom or what?”

“Come on then, help me unravel these posters,” said Autumn. 

Everyone chose a corner and started furnishing the classroom. 

Percy opened one of the plastic containers and riffled through the materials. There were six anatomically correct skeletons of dark creatures, including a Grindylow, Demiguise, Doxy, Chizpurfle, Ashwinder, and Red Cap. 

“Are these real bones?” Percy asked as he placed the figures under the windows. 

“Good eye! We get them made for our tutors. And don’t stress about students handling them, as there’s an Unbreakable Charm placed on each set,” Autumn explained. 

Jack levitated a large educational poster onto the wall and attached it with a Sticking Charm. The poster showed a Ghost, a Ghoul, and a Poltergeist, with a brief description detailing their differences. 

“Some of these posters can’t be used,” Penelope said as she sifted through the pile. 

She held up one with an image of a Werewolf and the slogan, “Don’t let the danger come near you. The risk doesn’t stop at the full moon.”

It was blatant anti-Werewolf propaganda. 

“No wonder Professor Lupin had to leave at the end of our seventh year if this is what’s being spread around,” said Percy. 

“Yeah, did I mention these were approved by the Ministry?” Autumn grimaced. “We’ll need to veto the more unsavoury ones.” 

From then on, the group meticulously examined each poster and diagram, ensuring no inaccuracies or biases. 

Percy found a particularly interesting one about Duelling; it featured moving images of students casting both offensive and defensive spells. He recalled the pitiable attempt at Duelling that Lockhart had shown them in his sixth year. As part of Percy’s new curriculum, he planned to teach the proper method. 

Another poster he found pretty valuable was about first aid basics. It had a series of spell demonstrations, with both wand movements and pronunciations. Some of the charms included “Episkey” to heal minor lacerations, “Anapneo” to unblock the airway, and “Ferula” to bandage wounds. The poster was added to the approved collection. 

Percy picked up an empty glass display case, thinking he could use it for any live creatures he wanted to exhibit. Before he could set it down, a hand tapped his shoulder. Percy flinched back, nearly dropping the case. He turned around and saw it was only Jack. 

“Whatcha do that for!?” Percy spat, feeling slightly embarrassed by his reaction. 

Jack chuckled. “Sorry.” He then lowered his voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “Let’s speak in private.”

Percy followed him into the office, leaving Autumn and Penelope behind to keep unpacking.

“I’ve brought a few items from Auror HQ,” he said. 

“With their permission?” asked Percy.

Jack opted not to answer. “I can see that you’ve already set up your Foe-Glass,” he said instead, changing the subject. “You ought to check it before meetings. That way, you’ll know if your enemies have anything nasty planned.”

They both knew he was talking about the Minister.

Jack reached into his cloak and pulled out three small objects, placing them on the desk. He pointed to the first, a golden rod, and said, “This is a Probity Probe. It’s used to detect spells of concealment and hidden magical objects. I know you don’t need me to tell you, but be very careful with anything you’re given from the Ministry. Autumn and I have already gone over the supplies she brought today, so you’re safe there, but it’s something to consider.”

Percy nodded and took the rod, placing it in his desk drawer.

The second object was an intense red gemstone covered in silver flecks. Jack picked it up and waved it over the desk, but nothing happened. 

“Was it supposed to do something?” asked Percy.

“It did,” Jack smiled. “It’s a Dark detector of sorts—a Garnet Lodestone. You wave it over objects or people, and it magnetises towards traces of Dark magic. Just be careful not to let it fly out of your hand; the pull is stronger than you think.”

It joined the rod in the drawer. 

The last object was something Percy already recognised: a pair of iron cuffs that every Auror carried. He hadn’t seen them personally but knew they were used to restrain criminals by entangling them with expandable metal bands. 

“Jack,” Percy emphasised. “I can’t accept those. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not an Auror.”

“Don’t worry, they’re a set of mine. No one will notice they’re gone.”

Percy anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “That doesn’t make me any less worried.”

“Oh, come on, Percy. I need to know you’ll be safe if you ever find yourself needing to incapacitate someone. After today, you won’t have Autumn and me to rely on.”

“Fine, give them here,” grumbled Percy. 

Jack shoved them into his hands, ensuring he pocketed them. The metal weighed heavily against his leg. 

“That’s everything. Should we head back to the others?” Jack suggested.

“Let’s go.” Percy picked up the platter the house-elves had prepared for him and carried it down the stairs. “Anyone up for a snack?” he asked. 

“Finally!” groaned Penelope, grabbing a handful of grapes. “I’m starving.”

The others helped themselves to the food while Percy sat back and watched. He nibbled on a slice of cheese, thinking about Jack's advice. If the Minister intended to spy on him, he’d have to be very careful about surveillance spells. It’d be disastrous if his conversations were secretly monitored. So far, all he’d received was a leather-bound journal. He’d need to examine it thoroughly before using it. 

A loud knock on the classroom door broke his train of thought. 

Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, poked her head in. “Have I come at a bad time?” she asked. 

Percy stood up, brushing crumbs off his lap. “Not at all, Professor, please come in. We were just taking a break.” He offered her some refreshments. 

Professor McGonagall politely declined. 

“You don’t need to call me Professor anymore; Minerva will do just fine.”

He’d never considered that all his previous professors would now be his colleagues. It would take some time to get used to. 

“So, what brings you here?” asked Percy. 

Professor McGonagall pulled out a chair and settled into it. “Albus would normally be here to greet new professors, but since he’s away on business, I’m here to welcome you to Hogwarts and offer my assistance.”

“Thank you, Minerva.” He was right; it felt weird to use her first name. “I assume Dumbledore filled you in on the circumstances of my application?”  

“He did.” Professor McGonagall looked at him, her lips pressed tightly together. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” she hinted. 

Percy was instantly intrigued. He knew the Ministry hadn’t appointed a professor before, so he wondered what she’d meant by that. 

“Is there something I should know?” he questioned.

Professor McGonagall flicked her gaze toward the group. They were out of earshot. 

“You’re too young to have known this, but our very own Potions Master had a similar beginning in his career,” she admitted, lowering her voice. “Albus vouched for Severus during the war to keep him out of Azkaban, and as part of that arrangement, the Ministry required him to stay at Hogwarts under close observation. It was there he became a Potions professor, not out of desire but out of necessity. He was just twenty-one at the time.”

So, Snape had been coerced into becoming a professor, and at such a young age, too, but that’s where the similarities ended. Percy wasn’t bitter, he didn’t hate teaching, and he refused to bully students. He refused to let the weight of the role crush him.

Professor McGonagall noticed his discomfort. “I’ll offer you the same support that I did for him. You won’t be on your own, Percy; I’ll make sure of that.”

It was nice to know that at least one staff member supported him. He was worried that they wouldn’t accept him because of his age. 

“I appreciate that, and I’ll definitely take you up on your offer,” he said. 

A thin-lipped smile crept across her face. “Looks like you’ve already got a solid head start.” She gestured at the fully furnished classroom. “A little effort goes a long way.”

“You can thank Autumn and Jack for that. Oh, and Penelope, too. They’ve been helping me all morning to get things sorted,” explained Percy. 

“Ah yes, Mrs. Williams, Auror Whittaker, and Miss Clearwater. It’s good to see you all,” Professor McGonagall greeted the others. 

“Morning!” grinned Penelope.

Autumn gave a friendly wave. 

“So, can I call you Minerva as well?" Jack joked. 

“Are you also joining the Hogwarts staff?” Professor McGonagall raised a disapproving eyebrow. 

“No,” replied Jack. 

“Then I think you’ve got your answer.” 

Autumn and Penelope snickered behind his back while Jack turned beet red. 

“Aw, come on, Professor. Don’t be like that. You know I’m one of your favourites,” Jack said with a smirk. 

Percy got the distinct notion that Jack had been a troublemaker at school. 

“I don’t have favourites,” declared Professor McGonagall. “And if I did, it would be for outstanding students, not for those who nearly flunked their Transfiguration N.E.W.T.”

Jack cleared his throat, feeling a bit sheepish. “Fair enough.”

Professor McGonagall turned towards the door. “I should be getting back to my duties. There’s still plenty to organise before the start of term,” she said before addressing Percy directly. “My office door is always open.” After that, she took her leave.

Jack chuckled to himself, picking at the leftover platter. “I reckon she still holds a grudge against me from my seventh year.”

“What did you do? Cause trouble?” asked Percy. 

“Something like that.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “Transfiguration was a subject I always found tough, but I knew I had to take it to become an Auror. It was difficult to stay motivated during the lessons.”

“There’s no shame in struggling,” comforted Percy. Every child learns differently, and maybe Jack needed additional help. “Did you ever tell her that?”

“No, I was too embarrassed.”

“You still passed, though. That’s an achievement on its own.”

Jack gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

Penelope strolled over and picked up the empty platter. “Autumn and I are going to finish setting up the classroom. Whenever you’re ready, feel free to join us.”

Percy gently touched her arm. “I’ll be right there.”

Jack watched her go. “So, how long have you two been dating?”

“About three and a half years,” said Percy, leaning back against the table. “We were in the same year but in different Houses. She asked me out at the end of my fifth year.”

At the time, he was too insecure to approach her, so Penelope made the first move. 

“Really, how’d that go?” asked Jack, clearly intrigued. 

“We were studying for our O.W.L. exams in the library. Penelope passed me a textbook and asked me to look up Amortentia, the love potion, for a list of ingredients. When I opened the page, she’d stuck a note inside asking if I’d be her boyfriend,” Percy explained, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 

Jack snorted. “That’s disgustingly cute.”

“We’ve been together ever since. After graduation, Penelope started her Healing internship, and I went off to the Ministry. It hasn’t been easy, but we try to find time for each other.” Percy nudged his arm. “How about you? Did you date anyone at school?”

“Nah,” chuckled Jack. “No one caught my eye.”

“That’s hard to believe,” scoffed Percy. 

Despite his terrible sense of humour, Jack had a charming, boyish quality about him. 

“It’s the truth. Nobody there was my type,” Jack admitted. 

“Alright, if you say so,” Percy relented. “Now come on, we should go help the girls.”

The group finished setting up the classroom just after midday. The space was bright, structured, and perfectly suited to Percy and his curriculum. 

“I think it’s a job well done,” said Penelope. 

There was a collective sound of agreement. 

Percy stood up. “I, um, wanted to thank you all for your help today; I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said bashfully. “If you’re up for it, I’d be happy to buy a round of butterbeers at Hogsmeade.”

“Now you’re speaking my language," Jack said. “First round’s on Percy, and the second round’s on me.”

Autumn glanced at her pocket watch. “I should have time for a couple of drinks if we head there now.”

“Alright, then. Let’s get a move on!” said Penelope, taking charge. 

Inside the Three Broomsticks, Percy and the others headed towards a quieter spot at the back of the pub. The school holidays had drawn in a sizable crowd, leaving them surrounded by young wizarding families and the locals. Jack cast an Imperturbable Charm around their table, muffling their conversation from outsiders. Each of them slowly sipped on a butterbeer, relishing the sweet, frothy drink and the company it brought. 

“I used to love coming here with my classmates,” said Penelope, sipping her tankard. “It’s a pity we don’t come by more often.”

“Is that due to your studies?” Jack asked. “Percy mentioned you’re training to be a Healer.”

Penelope brimmed with pride. “That’s right. I’m a second-year intern at St. Mungo’s. The plan is to specialise in Potions and Plant Poisoning.”

“That’s a full-on course. About four years’ worth of study, yeah?” asked Jack. 

She nodded. “That’s how I met Autumn. She assigned me a Master Healer and organised a progression plan for me.” 

“What about you, Autumn? Did you frequent the Three Broomsticks often when you were a student?” asked Percy. 

“On occasion, yes, but we were more interested in the scenery. There’s a stunning lookout over the Black Lake, about two kilometres past the bridge.” Autumn smiled wistfully. “My friends and I would hike out there every chance we got.”

“You’ll have to show us some time. It sounds incredible,” said Penelope. “I feel like we didn’t explore the surrounding area enough.”

When he’d first arrived at Hogwarts, Percy explored the grounds just like everyone else, but once O.W.L.s began, he focused all his attention on his studies, hardly ever leaving the castle. 

“Hogwarts itself has a lot to offer, though,” Jack chimed in. “Plenty of secret passageways and hidden rooms. Did any of you find the one with the giant tea set?”

“No!” exclaimed Penelope. “There was a giant tea set!?”

“It was in one of the deserted classrooms on either the third or fourth floor of the West Wing. I can’t remember which, but it could comfortably fit two people inside each cup.”

Percy had never come across it. 

“I wonder why it’s there?” pondered Autumn. “Failed student experiment?”

“Dunno, but I thought it was pretty funny,” chuckled Jack. 

“Well, Perce and I discovered a hidden alcove in the library. You had to pull a lever behind the tome, In the Company of Crows and Ravens, to unlock it,” Penelope said. 

Percy added, “We used to study there.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Jack snickered. 

Autumn slapped his arm. “Behave,” she said sternly. 

Jack stood up and stretched. “I’m off to grab us another round.” He strolled casually over to the bar and chatted with Madam Rosmerta. 

Penelope bent closer and whispered in his ear, “Have you told Jack about my patient yet?”

Jack had been so busy with the arrest and subsequent case of Elphias Doge that Percy hadn’t had the chance to tell him.  

“No, but I can bring it up now if that’s alright with you?” Percy whispered back. 

“It’s fine. I trust him.”

When Jack returned, he handed each person a froth-filled butterbeer. 

“Jack, Penelope wanted to chat with you about something.” Percy glanced over his shoulder. “Is the Imperturbable Charm still up?”

After recasting the charm, Jack sat down and took a large swig of his drink. “What’s up?” he asked.

Penelope wrung her hands nervously. “Well, I have this patient; he’s an Unspeakable. I can’t reveal any names as I’ve sworn an oath, but he came into the spell damage ward two weeks ago. I, um, think he was attacked; there are signs of a struggle, but my supervisor won’t report it. Percy said you could help me?” 

“It happened on the same morning as Harry’s trial,” Percy added. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too coincidental?"

“That is interesting,” Jack mused. “But you’re right, there’s something more going on here, and I think it might have something to do with your father, Percy.”

His heart skipped a beat. “My father?” 

“Yes, I followed him Thursday night, just like you asked. He was hiding under an invisibility cloak and stood in front of the Department of Mysteries until the morning staff showed up.”

“Seriously? He just stood there?” asked Percy. 

“I had a funny feeling about the whole thing,” Jack admitted. “So, I’ve been staking out the entrance every night since. I’ve spotted multiple figures, all hidden, all waiting for something or someone. What I'd like to know is who these people are and what they’re doing there. And I think you, Percy, know the answer.”

Percy nervously chewed on his bottom lip. He was magically bound and couldn’t disclose the Order or its members. He’d have to tread carefully around the topic. 

“I might know a little. You’re right to think that there’s a group of people guarding the entrance, but I’m not sure why,” Percy admitted. 

Jack nodded. “I thought as much, and since your father’s involved, I assume it’s got something to do with Dumbledore. But that’s not what worries me, though. Given that an Unspeakable has already been attacked, I think an outside force is targeting the Department of Mysteries. We just need to figure out who and why?”

“It could be for a magical object,” Penelope interjected. “The Unspeakable had come into contact with something that severely damaged his mind, and whatever it was, fit in the palm of their hand.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Autumn glanced between the three of them. “Dumbledore’s group is guarding the Department of Mysteries against intruders—intruders who are trying to steal something dangerous. Then, during Harry’s very public court case, an Unspeakable was injured, possibly due to an attempted murder,” Autumn summarised. “Does that mean we can rule out the Wizengamot as suspects?” 

Percy leaned forward, a sudden idea forming. “I think you’re onto something, Autumn. The court case would’ve been the perfect distraction for an intruder to sneak inside. Maybe our Unspeakable caught the person in the act and had to be silenced. They’re probably still at risk of being attacked.” 

Jack flicked open a hidden notebook and flipped back through its pages until he found a specific entry. 

“Here, I’ve noted it down.” Jack pointed at the page. “A list of all the people who weren’t involved in the case but had been loitering around the courtroom. It was a task Madam Bones had given me.”

Percy read through the list of names. He overlooked his father since he’d been chaperoning Harry that day, but another name caught his attention: Lucius Malfoy. 

Penelope peeked over his shoulder and scowled. “So, we’re all thinking it’s Malfoy, right?”

Jack stuffed his notebook into his cloak again. 

“I’m almost certain it is, but proving it will be another beast entirely. Leave it to me; I'll take it to the Taskforce for further investigation. In the meantime, we’ll assign round-the-clock security to the Unspeakable, just in case they send someone else to finish the job. If he recovers, he might be able to identify his attacker.”

“How should I get in touch with you if he wakes up?” asked Penelope. 

Jack grinned broadly. “I think it’s time I introduced you to A.C.T.” 

Chapter Text

Inside his office, Percy leaned against the soft headrest of an armchair. He had spent the last few days adjusting to his new living quarters and had transfigured the bare-bones room into a plush, comfortable space. His once plain desk was now a glossy rosewood with four extendable drawers, while his bookshelves, which had previously held only thirty books per shelf, now reached the ceiling. 

A faint pop interrupted his relaxation as a tray full of food appeared on the coffee table. Breakfast had been served, courtesy of the house-elves. He picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup, the steam clouding his glasses. On his plate were two poached eggs, a slice of toast, and a handful of grilled tomatoes sprinkled with salt and chopped basil. As he set down the teapot, something white caught his eye. There, wedged between the condiments, was a scroll of parchment. 

Percy unravelled it and read the message inside.  

Dear Percy,

My apologies for missing your arrival at the castle. I hope you’ve settled in nicely. 

Please see me in my study after breakfast. There are plenty of Fizzing Whizbees to share. 

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Percy reread the note twice, his breakfast momentarily forgotten. The Headmaster must have returned to Hogwarts sometime that morning. He was unsure what to think. When they last spoke, Percy had accused Dumbledore of using him, so who knew what awaited him at their meeting? 

A particular line had also stood out to Percy: “Fizzing Whizbees”. The sweet confection was an odd thing to offer. He wondered if it was slang for something or perhaps a codeword. There was only one way to find out, and that was to ask the man himself. 

After breakfast, Percy walked to the tallest tower in the South Wing and paused just outside a stone gargoyle. 

“Hello, I have an appointment with the Headmaster. Could you please let me in?” he asked. 

The statue didn’t budge. 

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, but I need to get through.” 

It stood frozen, glaring menacingly at him. 

Percy sighed; the Headmaster could have at least given him the password. Oh. He had a moment of realisation as he suddenly understood the note. 

“Fizzing Whizbees.”

The gargoyle sprang to life and stepped aside, revealing a hidden staircase. Percy climbed the spiral steps and knocked on the door at the top. A voice called out, “Enter,” and he pushed his way into the circular office. 

Dumbledore sat at his claw-footed desk with his pet phoenix, Fawkes, perched beside him. It trilled a soft tune at his arrival. Behind them, portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses hung on the walls. They stopped their chatter to watch him approach. 

“I received your note this morning,” Percy stated, not waiting for an invitation to speak. “How was your business trip?” 

He assumed it had something to do with the Order. 

“Not as fruitful as I’d hoped,” said Dumbledore. He held out a dish of Sherbet Lemons and offered it to Percy. 

“No, thank you,” he politely refused. 

Dumbledore popped one into his mouth before placing the dish on his desk. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve asked to meet with you.”

“I figured it would relate to my induction,” guessed Percy. 

“Well, yes and no,” replied Dumbledore. “Minerva spoke with me earlier this morning. She’s quite proud of your classroom preparation and has assured me you’re ready for the start of term. I haven’t yet had the chance to look at your curriculum, but I trust that it’s of a high standard.”

He hoped it was. The Ministry attempted to interfere, but Autumn helped navigate the more biased and unnecessary material. 

“I have a copy in my office,” said Percy. “I would be happy to send it to you.” 

“That would be appreciated.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, gazing wearily at him over his half-moon spectacles. “There is another topic I would like to discuss, specifically regarding the Minister’s plans involving Hogwarts.”

Percy sighed; he had expected this. “What about them?”

“You might not like it, but I urge you to share the details of your meetings. It’s imperative that we cut his schemes off at the roots.”

“It’s not that easy, Professor, and you know it. I told you over a month ago that I'll only share what I consider essential. If you’re unwilling to accept that, then I’ll take my leave now.” Percy stood up, scraping his chair against the hardwood floor. 

The portraits on the walls began to whisper. 

Dumbledore quickly stopped him. “That won’t be necessary. You’ve made yourself more than clear on the matter.” 

Percy re-seated himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “So far, all the Minister wants me to do is take notes and gather information.”

It was up to Percy to decide how much information he would actually relay. 

“I doubt that’s all he wants,” Dumbledore alleged. “He’s been targeting my more adamant supporters.” 

“Elphias Doge,” Percy recalled. “He was arrested during the most recent Auror raid. I heard he’s awaiting trial.”

“Yes, it’s quite unfortunate.” 

A lengthy silence lingered between them. 

“Is that all you have to say?” stressed Percy. “I thought you’d be up in arms about his arrest. Surely, you’ll assist him during the proceedings?”

“My word no longer carries much weight at the Wizengamot. I fear it may be too late to help him.”

Percy was appalled. Doge was targeted solely due to his association with Dumbledore, and now that he was no longer useful, he was left to fend for himself. 

“So, there’s nothing that can be done?” asked Percy. Dumbledore refused to meet his gaze. “That’s how you treat your oldest friend? Well, what about my family? If they’re targeted, will you also abandon them?”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I haven’t abandoned—”

“It certainly appears that way,” interjected Percy. 

“You, more than anyone else, should know the lengths to which the Minister would go to get his way. If I could have received prior warning about his arrest, perhaps things would have turned out differently.”

“Now, don’t go blaming me,” snapped Percy, his cheeks flushed red with angry blotches. “You’re the one in charge of the Order; it’s up to you to protect them.” 

“And what would you know about the Order? You’re not a member,” Dumbledore said coolly. 

It was a point of contention between them. 

“I don’t need to be a member to feel worried.” His mother, father, and two eldest brothers were all part of the Order. He had every right to be concerned. “And I know what you asked my father to do,” Percy added, throwing caution to the wind. 

Dumbledore frowned. “Did Molly say something?” 

“How I know doesn’t matter, but you should reconsider your plan. What exactly are you guarding? And against whom?” 

Percy wiped his sweaty palms on his pants; he hadn’t meant to get angry. Now, he’d revealed something he hadn’t planned to. 

The Headmaster gazed into his eyes, searching for something he couldn’t find. “Whether you believe me or not, Voldemort has returned.” He ignored Percy’s flinch at the name. “His followers have been instructed to retrieve something valuable that he himself cannot obtain.”

“And what exactly is that something?” Percy asked, setting aside his opinion on You-Know-Who to learn more. 

“Alas, I cannot reveal that information.”

“Alright, fine, I can accept that, but what good does it do to have your Order standing around, doing nothing, when you’re already a limited resource? If you truly believe that You-Know-Who’s supporters are trying to infiltrate the Ministry, why not set a trap?” 

Dumbledore frowned. “Percy, I don’t believe—”

The more Percy thought about it, the more logical it sounded. 

“No, hear me out. There’s only one entrance to and from the Department of Mysteries, correct?” He didn’t wait for a response. “How about enchanting the hallway to bind intruders? You can specifically target Dark magic; that way, you'll filter out the Unspeakables.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped together, as he contemplated the suggestion. 

“Have one of your members set up a warning system to alert the Order to the intruder,” continued Percy. “Then you can dispatch multiple people to intercept them rather than just relying on one.”

“That’s an interesting proposition and something I’ll take into consideration,” said Dumbledore. “May I ask why you’re so concerned?”

“It’s about Dad. I-I’m scared for him,” admitted Percy. “He won’t listen to my warnings, and this mission you’ve given him has only increased the danger he’s facing. Can you please reassign him?”

Percy clenched his fists as he forced himself to ask the Headmaster for help. He was out of options.

“Your father volunteered to stand guard,” explained Dumbledore. 

“I’m begging you; only you can persuade him.”

The Headmaster sighed. “Very well, I can see that you’re troubled by this. I’ll assign him to a different task, away from the Ministry.” 

“Thank you,” Percy breathed. His father might not appreciate it, but it was for his own good. 

The grandfather clock behind them suddenly chimed, startling Percy. 

“I see that time has escaped us. We have a mandatory staff meeting at two o’clock to prepare for tonight’s Welcoming Feast. Has Minerva shown you the staffroom?”

Percy nodded.

“Good. Then I must bid you farewell,” dismissed Dumbledore. 

A staff meeting meant he would be officially introduced as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Aside from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Filch, none of the other professors knew he would be teaching that year. He couldn’t help but worry about their reactions to the news. 

Percy made his way back to his personal quarters. He needed to prepare for the meeting. Sitting at his desk, he pulled the leather-bound journal from the bottom drawer. It was the same one the Minister had given him for taking notes. He flicked through the blank pages, feeling apprehensive. 

After Jack had warned him, Percy thoroughly tested the journal. The Probity Probe hadn’t revealed any concealment or monitoring spells, and the Garnet Lodestone didn’t pick up any traces of Dark magic. As the Minister said, the journal was merely a tool to prevent prying eyes. However, he still had to be cautious about what he wrote. 

There was just enough time to make his way down to the staffroom, which was located on the far right of the castle on the ground floor. He took a shortcut through the courtyard, passing a mediaeval fountain with carved water spouts. On the other side, a large alcove was framed by stone pillars adorned with intricate mouldings. It was the spot where Cedric and his friends used to sit. 

He stopped and stared at the vacant spot, suddenly overcome by a rush of sadness. The emotion swirled inside him, begging to be released. He took a deep breath and then another until the feeling quieted. It wasn’t fair; Cedric had been so young, so full of life, only to have it ripped away. Percy hadn’t attended the wake; it had been a small family affair, but he’d mourned him all the same. 

When he was Head Boy, Percy mentored all the new Prefects, including Cedric. He remembered the boy as a blend of friendliness and nervousness. The first time they officially met was on the Hogwarts Express. Percy had just delivered a lecture to the new Prefects when Cedric asked him a rather telling question. He wanted to know if Percy found it challenging to balance Prefect duties with his studies because he was worried about his O.W.L.s. He later learnt that Cedric had been pressured by his father, Amos, to excel in all his exams. It was something they shared in common: the pursuit of perfection. 

Cedric would be missed; he was sure of that. But there had to be something he could do to help him stay remembered. Feeling hollow, he stared at the alcove before forcing himself to step away. It would make a bad impression if he were late to the first staff meeting of the year. 

Percy walked down a long, winding hall inside the castle until he encountered a door guarded by two gargoyles. They leapt aside at his arrival, clearly expecting him. He pushed it open and realised, to his dismay, that he was one of the last staff members to arrive.

All eyes turned to meet him.

Professor Dumbledore sat at the head of the table in a throne-like chair while the rest of the room casually chatted about their summer holidays. There were only two vacant seats left: one next to Filch and the other next to Snape. He took a calculated risk and sat next to the Potions Master. 

Feeling uneasy, Percy occupied himself with his journal, arranging it on the desk alongside a fresh inkpot. He heard whispers break out and knew they were likely discussing him. When he lifted his head, Professor McGonagall nodded at him, a gentle smile gracing her lips. It was a small reassurance. 

All the staff sat around the table in mismatched wooden chairs except for Professor Binns, who floated off to the side. His ghostly presence kept the room at a chilled temperature.

Across from him, Professor Vector, his former Arithmancy teacher, leaned forward and asked, “Percy, what’re you doing here? Did the Headmaster invite you?”

Next to her, Professor Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher, also participated in the sudden questioning. “Are you completing a Mastery?”

Most of his teachers knew he’d considered pursuing a Mastery in Transfiguration. It was reasonable to assume he'd come to further his education with Professor McGonagall as his mentor. He opened his mouth to deny the claim when a loud bang interrupted him. 

The door swung open, and this time, Professor Trelawney, clad in an assortment of shawls and beads, waltzed in. She carried an armful of inscribed necklaces and placed one in front of each teacher. Dumbledore smiled with delight at the gift, picking it up and draping it around his neck after tucking his beard out of the way.

“Thank you, Sybill. What an intriguing little doodad,” he said. 

“What, pray tell, have you brought us this time?” Professor McGonagall asked sceptically, leaving hers untouched on the table.

Professor Trelawney handed another necklace to Madam Hooch and Professor Babbling, both of whom accepted the gift without comment. 

“My dear Minerva, I’ve brought back talismans from my summer travels. These have been blessed by the sap of the Sahabi Tree in Jordan. Wearing them will grant you protection from evil, harm, and sickness,” she explained in a mystic, faraway voice. 

She placed one in front of Snape, who sneered at the charm as if it had personally cursed him. When Professor Trelawney reached Percy, she paused, and a look of surprise crossed her face. 

“Why, of course! I should’ve realised it from my dreams; you’re our newest teacher: Professor Wosby.” 

A light pink tinged his cheeks; she had mispronounced his name. 

“It’s Weasley, actually. I took your N.E.W.T. classes two years ago,” he said softly. Only a handful of students continued with the subject, so he thought she would remember him. 

“Surely, you knew that, Sybill? Or is your All-Seeing Eye on the blink?” chastised Professor McGonagall. 

“As I said, Minerva: Professor Weasley is our newest teacher. Perhaps you should have your hearing checked.”

Before an argument could start, Dumbledore loudly cleared his throat, silencing the room. “Now that we’re all settled let us begin today’s staff meeting. Firstly, I’d like to welcome you back to another year at Hogwarts; I can see many of you are eager to begin the term.” He looked around the table with a jovial smile. “Secondly, I’d like to thank Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank for covering Care of Magical Creatures, as Hagrid will be taking a temporary leave of absence.”

Percy waited for Dumbledore to provide more details, but he didn’t. He noted the absence in his journal. 

“I’m also thrilled to introduce Percy Weasley as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Please welcome him with open arms.”

A ripple of shock swept across the table. Professor Trelawney had indeed been correct. 

“It’s wonderful to have you join us,” said Professor Flitwick, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

To his surprise, a wave of agreement came from the staff as they congratulated him. He supposed they’d seen worse candidates. 

Across the table, he heard Filch mutter something rude under his breath. He turned to say something but instead caught Snape glaring with open hostility. Perhaps he shouldn’t have sat next to him. 

“Now, we have a few notices to share. Minerva, if you’d kindly pass out the teaching schedules?” 

Professor McGonagall flicked her wand, causing a stack of papers to fly off the desk and land in front of each teacher. Percy picked up the first page and skimmed his schedule. There were six hours of lessons a day, divided into eight single and double classes. 

“If you check the second page, you’ll see that I’ve also provided the night patrol schedule,” said Professor McGonagall. 

On Tuesday and Thursday evenings, Percy was expected to walk up and down the halls of Hogwarts to enforce the school’s curfew and ensure that no one left their dormitories after dark. 

“Below is a list of passwords for the term,” Professor McGonagall pointed out. She leaned down and spoke directly to Percy, “As a teacher, you can access all restricted areas, including common rooms, Prefect facilities, and staff offices. It’s important that you can reach students quickly in case of an emergency.” 

 Percy nodded. “Understood.”

Other than Gryffindor, he had never entered any of the other Houses. Penelope had once attempted to sneak him into Ravenclaw Tower, but he refused to break the rules, choosing to wait outside for her instead. 

“We’ve also attached a list of all the Prefects, along with this year’s elected Head Boy and Girl,” said Professor McGonagall. 

He looked at the list and smiled; Ron’s name was written underneath Gryffindor as one of the newest Prefects. This also meant he’d be able to patrol the halls with him. The only other names of interest were the Malfoy kid and the new Head Boy, Cresswell. A sad thought entered his mind: Cedric would’ve probably been Head Boy if he were still alive. 

Dumbledore addressed the table. “Now, onto the next topic of discussion. Rolanda, would you like to take it from here?”

Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, stood up and dumped a pile of papers in the centre of the table. The other staff, having anticipated the brash display, summoned copies into their hands. Percy followed their lead and summoned one as well. It contained all the upcoming dates for the school Quidditch matches. 

“Quidditch trials will be held as usual during the second week of term. I’ll let the captains decide which days and times,” said Madam Hooch authoritatively. “The season's first game will be on the fourth of November, a Saturday—Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. I’ll be here every Monday for the first-year flying lessons, so if you have questions, talk to me then.” She was wonderfully succinct. 

“Excellent, thank you, Rolanda. I look forward to it. I'm also aware that you have something you’d like to bring up, Argus?” asked Dumbledore. 

Filch smiled, revealing his grimy teeth. Percy shuddered. 

“Yes, Headmaster, I’ve updated the list of banned items,” he said before unrolling a scroll onto the table. “Such items include, but are not limited to: Belch Powder, Dancing Spiders, Exploding Ink…” Filch read the list as Percy quickly jotted some notes in his journal. “...Inflatable Tongues, Shrinking Galleons, Whizzing Worms…” 

“That’s quite enough,” Dumbledore interrupted. “If you post the list on your office door, I’m sure we’ll all read it thoroughly.”

“Just tell those brats not to use magic in the corridors. Every year, I catch them breaking the rules,” grumbled Filch. 

“I will be sure to let them know. Now, are there any other notices or requests?” Dumbledore asked the room. 

Madam Pince, the school librarian, raised her hand.

“Go ahead, Irma.”

She adjusted her glasses before extracting a yellowed parchment sheet. “I’ve got twenty-seven books that must be moved from the shelves to the Restricted Section. I just need your approval first.”

“Very well, leave me the list, and I’ll review it.”

She handed it to him. Snape also produced a list, sliding it across the table to Dumbledore. 

“The required potion ingredients for the term. I’ve noted the exact quantities needed for each one. Your approval is required before purchase,” drawled Snape, looking bored.  

“You’ll have it back before the end of the day,” Dumbledore said. “Anyone else?”

“Albus, if I may, I’d like to propose an alternative to this year's exams,” said Professor Trelawney, nervously twisting one of the necklaces in her hands. “I don’t believe grades can accurately measure a student’s ability. The Seeing Eye is a rare gift; we cannot force it to adhere to such trivial matters.”

Professor McGonagall was appalled at the very suggestion. “As we’ve told you before, Sybill, Divination cannot be omitted from examination. If it is available as a subject at Hogwarts, it will be graded to the same standards.”

“I must concur with my deputy here,” said Dumbledore. Professor Trelawney slumped in defeat. “Is that everyone?” he asked. 

Percy timidly raised his hand. 

“Oh, Percy, did you have something to add?” 

“Is this the right time to make a suggestion?” he asked, uncertain. 

“Please, whether it’s school-related or staff-related, we’re all ears,” 

He cleared his throat from its sudden tightness. “I, uh, was wondering if we could erect a memorial for Cedric Diggory?” The room went still. No one had mentioned his death yet. “It only happened two months ago, and I’m not sure the students have had the proper time to process what transpired that day. I thought we could provide a place for them to express their emotions and fondly remember him.”

Percy glanced at the table, bracing himself for rejection, but it never arrived.  

“A beautiful sentiment and something we can all get behind. Do you have something specific in mind?” asked Dumbledore. 

“I was considering a collaborative project with the students. They could each write or draw a message, and then we could engrave it into a stone alcove in the courtyard. This way, the pupils and staff will feel more connected to one another and have a place they can visit to remember Cedric,” proposed Percy. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” said Professor McGonagall. “Of course, it’ll have to be voluntary, and you’ll need to inspect each message carefully.”

Professor Sprout dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. It was important for Percy to have the endorsement of the Head of Hufflepuff, as this was the House that would be most affected. 

“I’m sure the students would truly appreciate it, as would the Diggory family,” said Professor Sprout, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“Can I leave this project to you, Percy?” asked Dumbledore. 

“Give me a few days to figure out the logistics, but it shouldn’t be an issue,” he asserted. 

“Very well. Thank you for organising it. I’ll inform the student body during the Welcoming Feast and direct them to you. I believe that marks the end of our meeting.” Dumbledore looked around the table. “Our students will arrive at a quarter to six. Wilhelmina, you’ll meet the first-years at the train station to take them across the lake. Everyone else, I’ll see you in the Great Hall.”

Percy finished writing his notes and then closed his journal. Most of the staff departed quickly, including Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore, who needed to set up the Great Hall, but a few lingered behind. 

Professor Flitwick approached him with a gentle smile. “So, tell me, Percy, how did someone as young as you get selected to become the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Not that I doubt your ability, of course.” 

Professor Sprout also stayed back to listen. 

“The Ministry believed I would be the best fit for the job,” Percy lied. 

Neither professor was part of the Order, so Dumbledore wouldn’t have disclosed the true reason to them. 

“Yes, we heard about the Ministry’s involvement; quite the precedent you’ve set,” said Professor Flitwick.

“Is this your way of asking me whether the Ministry plans to interfere at Hogwarts?” Percy accused.

Professor Sprout burst into a hearty laugh. “He’s got you there, Filius.”

“No, it’s fine,” Percy excused. “Have either of you been reading the Daily Prophet? They’re currently on the warpath against the Headmaster and Potter. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Ministry attempted to enforce some kind of policy to remove them.”

“Oh, I no longer read that trash, not after the debacle last year with Rita Skeeter. Utter tosh, if you ask me,” said Professor Sprout. 

“Quite,” agreed Professor Flitwick. “Poor Potter; the boy can’t catch a break.”

“What’s he like in class?” Percy asked, suddenly curious. 

“Contrary to popular belief, he’s a well-behaved student, and I’ve found him to be more than capable in Charms, just like his mother. You’ll need to watch out for his rivalry with Malfoy; it's best to keep them on opposite sides of the classroom,” suggested Professor Flitwick. 

“You won’t have to worry too much about that,” added Professor Sprout. “Gryffindor is paired with Hufflepuff for Defence Against the Dark Arts, leaving Slytherins with Ravenclaws.”

“That’s good to know. Do you have any other tips before classes start tomorrow?” asked Percy. 

“Just have fun,” said Professor Flitwick. “I’m sure you’ve already stressed over the curriculum and lesson plans more than enough.”

“And you can always count on us if you need assistance,” assured Professor Sprout. 

“I appreciate that.”

His heart swelled with happiness; three Heads of House had offered him their support—more than he’d ever expected. 

Percy patiently sat at the High Table, overlooking the Great Hall. He was firmly wedged between Professor Flitwick and Snape, the latter blatantly ignoring him. Instead, the Potions Master conversed with Dumbledore, who sat on a high-arched golden chair in the centre of the table. 

The double doors to the Hall burst open, and the first wave of students pooled inside. A few ghosts mingled around the House tables, drifting in and out of view as friends were reunited after two months. He caught a glimpse of red hair to his left and saw the twins take a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, right next to their friend, Lee Jordan. There were many familiar faces he recognised from his school years. 

Next to walk in were Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and a blonde-haired girl who split off to sit with the Ravenclaws. His sister smiled when she spotted him and waved excitedly at the High Table. He nodded politely, acknowledging that he saw her. Ron rolled his eyes and then dragged Harry and Hermione to the middle of the table. Ginny shrugged and joined her fourth-year classmates. 

Soon, the Great Hall was filled with students. He felt hundreds of eyes on him as they assessed their teachers for the year. Then the whispers began:

“...isn’t that one of the Weasley brothers…” 

“...I thought he was with the Ministry…”

“...didn’t he judge one of the Task’s last year…”

“...what’s he doing at the staff table…”

A knock on the double doors silenced the Hall. The first-years had arrived. They followed Professor McGonagall in a single line, walking between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Upon reaching the front, a frayed, ancient hat was placed on a stool. A rip in its brim opened wide, and the Sorting Hat burst into song. 

“...Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we’ll crumble from within.

I have told you; I have warned you,

Let the Sorting now begin.”

Percy glanced at Dumbledore. He appeared unfazed by the warning. Did he know about the song? The hat was usually kept in the Headmaster’s office during the school year. Could it have overheard him discussing the alleged return of You-Know-Who? Or was this about something completely different?

He leaned over to Professor Flitwick and quietly spoke to him. “I’ve never heard the hat issue a warning before. Should we be concerned?”

Professor Flitwick kept his head up, clapping politely with the students as each first-year was sorted. 

“I’ve been teaching for over fifty years,” he whispered. “The Sorting Hat has issued only two warnings during that time; the first was for an attempted Goblin rebellion in the late forties, and the second was at the start of the Wizarding War. We should heed its words.”

Percy sat back in his chair and quietly watched the sorting. When the last student, Rose Zeller, was placed into Hufflepuff, the entire student body turned to Dumbledore, eagerly awaiting his greeting. 

The Headmaster stood and addressed the Hall with a warm smile. “To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!”

An assortment of food magically appeared on the tables, and both the staff and the students enjoyed their share. However, one House was more subdued than the others. Hufflepuff, usually bustling with noise and laughter, felt restrained. Percy looked toward the end of the table and carefully watched the seventh-years. They had left an open spot on the bench for Cedric, honouring the memory of their friend. 

Once everyone had their fill, Dumbledore stood, and the Hall fell silent once again. The Headmaster’s deep purple robes were adorned with silvery stars, mirroring the night sky above on the Enchanted Ceiling. 

“Well, now that we’re all digesting another magnificent feast, I ask for a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,” he began. 

Percy listened as the Headmaster cautioned the students against entering the Forbidden Forest and reminded them of the list of banned items posted on Filch’s office door. 

“We’ve had two changes in staffing this year,” continued Dumbledore. Percy sat up straighter. “We’re very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who’ll be teaching Care of Magical Creatures; we’re also delighted to introduce Professor Weasley as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

A scattering of applause came from the tables, except for Gryffindor. The fourth, fifth, and sixth-year students cheered loudly for him, thanks to the combined efforts of Ginny and Harry. Percy tried to conceal his reaction, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards at the sight.

Many of the older students remembered him as either a Prefect, Head Boy, or from the study sessions he led in the common room. He hoped they didn’t expect special treatment just because they shared the same House. 

“Quiet down now,” directed Professor McGonagall. 

Dumbledore raised his arms, and the Hall fell silent. “Tryouts for Quidditch will occur in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House team should reach out to Madam Hooch.”

Percy watched Ginny whisper to her friends. In her letter, she mentioned that this would be the year she’d try out for the team. 

“And finally, in remembrance of Cedric Diggory, we’ll be creating a school memorial as a collaborative project. Those who are interested should contact Professor Weasley, who will provide further instructions.”

The Hufflepuff seventh-years huddled together at the announcement and fell into a hushed conversation. 

“And now, I believe it is time for bed,” dismissed Dumbledore. 

All the students stood up simultaneously to leave the Hall. Percy observed the Prefects interacting with the first-years, bringing back memories of when he had taken them to Gryffindor Tower.

His eyes drifted toward his siblings when he suddenly heard his brother yell, “Hey! Hey, you lot! Midgets!” at the top of his lungs. 

He winced internally at the behaviour. Ron had a lot to learn about responsibility and tact. 

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed in embarrassment. They argued for a moment before she called out to the table. “First-years! This way, please!”

A group of frightened-looking eleven-year-olds surrounded them. Percy stepped down from the High Table to approach them but was quickly ambushed by a group of seventh-year Hufflepuffs, the same ones who were whispering during the Headmaster’s announcement. 

“Can I help you?” asked Percy.

A short, black-haired boy stepped forward.

“Professor Weasley, we've talked about it, and we want to volunteer for the project,” he said.

“Cedric was our friend. He deserves to be remembered for the great person he was,” said another boy in the back.

“I don’t have anything with me right now, but come talk to me before classes on Tuesday. You’ve got double Defence Against the Dark Arts that morning,” said Percy. The boys nodded. “Now, you better get to bed before curfew starts.”

“Yes, Professor,” they chorused. 

When he turned back to the Gryffindor table, it was empty. He would have to catch up with his siblings tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

The sun peeked through the curtains, shining a ray of light across the otherwise dark room. Restless, Percy stood and paced across the office floor. He reread his lesson plan, focusing on the small details of each year level. Professor Flitwick had advised him to “just have fun” but he couldn’t help but stress. He’d forgoned breakfast that morning and instead had the house-elves bring him up a tray of tea. The soothing blend calmed his nerves. 

His schedule started with back-to-back lessons with the first-years in the morning. He’d have the Ravenclaws paired with the Slytherins, and then afterwards the Gryffindors paired with the Hufflepuffs. Just like him, the first-years were also adapting to a new environment. They were away from home, without their parents, and feeling overwhelmed from the change. Percy hoped to ease them into the subject and guide them towards good habits. With luck, he’d have them all cast their first spell before the end of class. 

A bell sounded from inside the castle. Breakfast had finished and lessons would soon begin. Percy grabbed his satchel off the table, swung it over his shoulder, then entered the classroom. He took out his wand and tapped it against the blackboard, causing the words “Introduction to Defence Against the Dark Arts” to appear at the top. Underneath he had written the course aims and a series of classroom expectations the students were to follow; including punctuality, preparation, and mutual respect. He had a zero-tolerance when it came to bullying. 

Percy straightened his brown overcoat, adjusting the buttons on the front. He took a quick glance at his golden pocket watch, noted the time, and then opened the classroom door. Outside, a couple of Ravenclaw students had eagerly lined up, chatting amongst themselves. 

“Good morning,” said Percy, unintentionally startling them.

“Oh, Professor Weasley, good morning. We’re not too early are we?” one of the girls asked. 

“Not at all, come on in.” He propped the door open, letting the students enter. They beelined to the front of the classroom and picked two desks next to the blackboard. “Did you have any trouble finding your way here? Hogwarts is a little tricky to navigate.”

“A Prefect gave us directions.”

“That’s good to know. The Prefects are representatives of the school, it’s their responsibility to help their fellow housemates.”

Another group of students walked into the classroom, all Slytherins. They looked a little uncertain and stood awkwardly at the back of the room. 

“Take a seat. We’ll get started once everyone arrives,” said Percy. 

The students slowly trickled in, grouped together in pairs or trios as a way to avoid getting lost. When the last student waltzed in, an ash-blond Slytherin boy, he directed them to a desk near the back. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“It’s Dillon.”

The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it. 

“Mr Dillon, just be aware that lessons start at nine o’clock sharp. If you’re not sure where to go, ask a Prefect or one of your classmates. I won’t tolerate tardiness,” he explained.

The boy got red-faced and looked like he was going to argue back, but instead bit his tongue and sat down.

Percy stood at the top of the classroom and cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. “Good morning, class. My name is Professor Weasley and I’ll be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now before we begin, let me take roll call. If you hear your name, raise your hand and say here.” He went down the list, matching names to faces. “...Miss Veda?” He called the final student. 

“Here, sir,” spoke a timid Ravenclaw girl, the same one who he’d startled at the door. 

He tucked the attendance list in his satchel and pulled out a stack of papers, sitting them on the corner of his desk.  

“Let me start by asking the class a simple question, what kind of dangers are there in the wizarding world?”

One or two hands raised into the air. 

“Miss Ramona?” He pointed to a Ravenclaw girl with Mediterranean features. 

“Dark creatures, like vampires and hags and stuff…” she trailed off.

“Good. Five points to Ravenclaw. Miss Silias?” 

The Slytherin girl answered with more confidence. “Cursed objects. My dad said never to touch something if I didn’t know where it came from.”

“Excellent. That’s five points to Slytherin. Anyone else?”

Several hands raised. Percy picked a couple more students, getting answers that ranged from “flesh-eating trees” to “poisonous swamps”. 

“What about people? How can you tell when a witch or wizard is dangerous?” Percy asked the class. 

No one raised their hand.

“Not so simple, is it? Someone who has dabbled in the Dark Arts may appear as harmless as you or I, but their intent could very well be to control, injure, or even kill another person. That’s why it’s important to be aware of the dangers out there and take precautions to protect yourself.”

Percy flicked his wand towards the desk, distributing the stack of papers to each student.

“You’ve each received a copy of the topics we’ll be covering for the year. They include detecting danger, common creature encounters, calling for help, and physical fitness.”

Dillon scoffed at Percy. “Why would we need to call for help? I thought you’d be teaching us how to defend ourselves,” he interjected. 

“Please raise your hand next time if you’ve got a question Mr Dillon, but you’ve made a good point. Not everything has a defence. There are curses that are unblockable, potions without antidotes, and creatures that are invulnerable. As first-years, it's imperative to understand the limits to your magic. You don’t want to be trapped in a situation where you’re overwhelmed and out of options.”

Percy tapped the blackboard with his wand where a description of an incantation appeared in chalk. 

“For today’s lesson, you’ll be learning the spell Vermillious.” Percy held his wand above his head and a jet of red sparks flew from the tip, stopping short of the high-arched ceiling. “As you can see, it releases a short burst of red sparks. Perfect for signalling help during an emergency.”

The students quickly copied the instructions onto their parchment paper.

“Can anyone tell me an emergency situation where you could use this spell?” Percy asked the class. “Yes, Mr Sage?”

Sage, a slim-faced Ravenclaw, answered. “If you’re attacked by a creature.”

“Good. How about you, Miss Maeve?”

“Uh, when you are, um, lost?” she said in an uncertain tone. 

Dillon snickered behind his hand and whispered something to his classmate, Silias, who laughed back. 

“Do you have something to share with the class, Mr Dillon? Miss Silias?” 

The kid was starting to become a troublemaker and it hadn’t even been a full lesson. 

“No, Professor,” they said in unison, thoroughly red-faced at being caught. 

“May I remind you of my classroom rules.” Percy pointed to the blackboard. “Please be respectful of your fellow classmates. Next time, I’ll dock House points.”

For the rest of his lecture, he kept a careful eye on the two Slytherins, but they didn’t act out of place again.

“Now, if you’d all take out your wands, we’ll practise the movement together.”

The first-years split into pairs and Percy had them attempt to cast the spell. He visited each student, correcting their pronunciation (vur-MILL-ee-us), whilst encouraging them to keep trying. Behind him, a small red spark jumped from the wand of a black-haired student. 

“Well done, Miss Veda, ten points to Ravenclaw.” She blushed a vibrant pink at the compliment. “Class, did you see the way she held her wand? Not too loose and not too sturdy.” 

He went around the classroom until he reached Dillon. The boy had his hand tightly wrapped around his wand and had yet to produce a spark. 

“Don’t interlock your thumb like that. You need to keep it straight,” instructed Percy. 

Dillon frowned but listened to Percy’s critique. He cast the spell again with the correct grip and this time, red sparks shot into the air in an explosion of colour. 

“There we go.” Percy smiled. “An excellent execution.”

Dillon mumbled under his breath. “I could’ve done it without you.”

It seemed his attitude also needed an adjustment. 

At the end of the lesson, all of the students had managed to produce some form of red sparks. As they packed away their things, Percy assigned them homework. 

“Read through pages four to fifteen in The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.” 

There was a flurry of quills as the first-years scribbled down the page numbers. Then the bell tolled, signalling the end of class. 

“Please continue to practise Vermillious. I’ll have each of you cast it at the beginning of your next lesson with me,” he called as the students departed. 

A couple of Ravenclaws hung back, Ramona and her shy classmate, Veda.

“Professor Weasley, I was wondering if you had a spare copy of the textbook?” asked Ramona, as she nervously stroked her hair. 

“Did you misplace yours?” 

“No, not mine. It’s just, um…”

Ramona turned and whispered to Veda, who seemed more than a little upset with her friend. Percy assumed she hadn’t planned on telling the teacher she’d lost her book. 

“If you don’t, that’s fine. I can share with Veda,” said Ramona. 

Percy reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a spare copy. 

“Here, just return it once you’ve found yours,” he told Veda.

She mumbled something indecipherable. 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“I-I don’t own one. My parents couldn’t afford the whole book list,” she admitted in a tiny voice.

Percy sighed then softly smiled, her situation hit a little too close to home. For him, it was either second-hand textbooks or out of date editions. When Professor McGonagall had noticed, she contacted the Headmaster, so he and his siblings could be covered by the financial support fund. He remembered being so embarrassed at the time. Veda probably felt the same way.

 “That’s alright, keep it. I’ll talk to Professor Flitwick, your Head of House, and he’ll get something more permanent sorted.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Veda, almost on the verge of tears. 

“Now, you better get moving, your next class starts in ten minutes.”

Once they left the classroom, Percy closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Despite a couple of behavioural issues his first lesson was a success, but he couldn’t celebrate too long. His next class was due to arrive at any minute.  

The other first-year class came with their own set of challenges. One particular Gryffindor, an Irish boy named Wyatt, had a tendency to boast and had tried to steer the topic off course with stories about his home life. Meanwhile, a pair of Hufflepuff girls wouldn’t stop giggling between themselves. In the end, he’d docked ten points and separated them to opposite sides of the classroom. 

There was one more lesson remaining before lunch, a double with the fourth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. He straightened the desks and cleared the blackboard with a wave of his wand. A sharp knock sounded at the door. Ginny was standing there with her book bag swung casually over her shoulder. 

“Ginny, come in. I’m just getting ready for your class.” 

She smiled and dumped her bag on a desk at the front. 

“You’ve done a great job with the classroom,” she noted, peering at the creature skeletons under the windows. “Better than the jars of worms and containers of bugs fake-Moody displayed.”

“Thank you, I had help setting it up,” he bristled with pride. 

Percy tapped the blackboard and the fourth-year course aims appeared instantly. 

“I didn't see you at breakfast this morning. You’re not avoiding us are you?” asked Ginny, her voice laced with worry. 

“Not intentionally.” Stress had caused him to lose his appetite, but now that he’d completed two lessons, his stomach growled with hunger. “Why? Were you looking for me?” 

She hesitated. “Have you spoken to the twins recently?”

“No, should I be worried?”

Ginny picked a thread on her cloak, not meeting his gaze. 

“They’ve been badmouthing you in the common room,” she said.

“That doesn’t surprise me. The twins and I have never seen eye to eye on anything.”

“You’re not worried about them retaliating?” 

“Of course I am. I’d be shocked if they didn’t try to prank me during class.”

It was terrible growing up as the butt of the joke. Percy had suffered enough tricks to last a lifetime but come Tuesday morning, they’d see that he wasn’t one to be trifled with. He’d be ready for anything they threw at him.  

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the edge of a desk. “I tried to tell them it was a bad idea but they just laughed at me. Dad even warned them not to misbehave and he never gets involved. I think he feels guilty for criticising you behind your back…” she trailed off.

He figured that Arthur would’ve done something like that. Either withholding information or constructing his own versions of events to put himself in a better light. 

“What exactly did he say about me?” asked Percy.

“I don’t want to make things worse.” 

“It’s alright, Ginny. Dad and I have reached a kind of truce. Things are…well, they’re not as bad as they once were.” But they’re not back to how they were either, he thought.

“During your argument at the Burrow, we uh, may have overheard you yelling,” admitted Ginny.

Percy snorted. “Uh huh. Should I pretend that I didn’t catch you all eavesdropping on my private conversation.”

“Sorry,” she said in a small voice. “The door muffled most of what you said, so we only caught bits. Fred and George didn’t have a working Extendable Ear-”

“What’s that?” interrupted Percy. “One of their contraptions?”

Ginny huffed. “Will you let me finish?”

“Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly. 

“So, as I was saying, we only caught snippets of the conversation. You said something about not seeing the truth. Dad denied everything and then you screamed at him about his Muggle obsession and our…money issues. Then Dad yelled back. He never yells back. I’ve only ever heard him raise his voice once and that was when the twins had tried to make Ron take an Unbreakable Vow, so I knew it must’ve been serious. None of us had any idea what you were arguing about until George found your paperwork on the table,” explained Ginny. 

“And you assumed…what exactly? That I'd sell out the family for a promotion?” 

He felt a rising anger bubbling beneath the surface. 

“No, maybe? Dad made it seem like you chose the Ministry over us. You didn’t see what he was like afterwards, it was scary.”

Percy drew a slow breath and glanced down at his sister. None of his siblings were responsible for their father’s actions. 

“I don’t blame you. It’s Dad’s fault for putting the family at risk and it was mine for not speaking up sooner.”

“But Percy-” started Ginny.

“No, I should've checked in with you, all of you, but I... was scared,” he confessed. Ginny placed a comforting hand on his own. “I was scared that I’d ruined things, that Dad would reject me again.” He let out a hollow laugh. “I haven’t stopped caring about him. He’s my father and I…I’m his son.” 

“If it makes any difference, Dad sounds remorseful. When he got back from Harry’s trial, he held a family meeting and told us that he’d made a mistake. He admitted that he projected his own insecurities onto you and that’s why he was so harsh. I think he really regretted losing his temper.”

“I’m glad he owned up to that,” said Percy. It would’ve been nice to have witnessed it himself. 

“Harry filled us in with the rest of the details. He, uh, overheard your conversation at the Ministry.”

“Of course he did.” Percy shook his head with amusement. “You bunch are some of the nosiest kids I’ve ever met.” 

Ginny grinned at the half compliment. 

“We’re all aware that you’ve been forced to take this position but unlike Dad, we’re here to support you. Well, maybe not the twins, but Harry and I definitely will,” vowed Ginny. 

There was one name that she hadn’t mentioned. 

“Not Ron?” he asked. 

Ginny pursed her lips. “Ron’s being a big baby at the moment. He thinks you’ll embarrass him in front of the class.”

Percy was taken aback. “I guess he’ll always see me as his lame older brother.”  

“That’s brotherly love, for you,” teased Ginny. 

Behind them, a fourth-year knocked softly on the classroom door. 

“Can we come in or should we wait until class begins?” they asked. 

Percy peeked outside the door. A couple of students had begun to line up. 

“Come inside and take a seat. We’ll begin shortly.” As he passed Ginny, Percy spoke softly under his breath. “We’ll talk more later.”

Once all of the fourth-years had arrived, he leaned against his desk and took roll call, memorising each name. There weren’t any absences. 

“Good morning, class. Let me introduce myself, although some of you may already know me, my name is Professor Weasley and I’ll be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts. If you direct your eyes to the board, you’ll see we have many topics to cover in a short amount of time.”

A blond-haired Hufflepuff raised his hand. 

“Yes, Mr Smith.”

“Why do we have a review in our first two weeks? Shouldn’t that be at the end? You know, for our exams,” he asked in a pompous manner. 

“There’s a very good reason for that, Mr Smith, and you’re right, it does connect to your exams. It has come to my attention that Professor Lockhart, your first-year teacher, hadn’t laid out the basics of defence with you. Although your other two professors had tried to close the gaps in your education, you’re still missing vital skills. Your previous exams highlight these inadequacies, at no fault of your own,” he added. 

Lockhart had wasted a full year of their lives, at such a crucial point too. It would’ve been more productive to have a cardboard cut-out than anything he’d taught. 

“These first two weeks we’ll cover those missing areas and then move onto your fourth-year material.”

Percy flicked his wand and a pile of papers flew out of his satchel and landed on the desk of each student.

“Before you is your curriculum for each term. We’ll start by going over Ministry laws and defence legality, then add onto your base knowledge of Dark creatures by learning about reasonable entities. After Christmas break, I’ll introduce counter-spells and basic shields. Then finally in the third term we’ll end on competitive duelling and strategies, before preparing for your end-of-year exams. Any questions?”

Several hands shot up. 

“Yes, Mr Cadwallader.”

A tall Hufflepuff answered. “Do we really get to duel!? With our wands and everything?” 

“Yes, you’ll be learning offensive and defensive spells, the proper duelling stance, and the rules of engagement.”

Cadwallader looked at his fellow classmates with excitement.

“Miss Fredericks, you’ve got a question?” he asked a cubby Gryffindor girl sitting near the back. 

“Um, did you really read everyone’s exams? So you know all our scores?” She blushed. 

Percy assumed she didn’t score as high as she liked. 

“I didn’t look at the names, so all the answers were anonymous,” he comforted. “If you find you’re struggling with any of the subject material, please don’t hesitate to speak with me. It’s better to bring it up now then to wait until your O.W.L. year.”

Another Grffindor raised their hand and waved it enthusiastically to get his attention. He recognised the boy as Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor student who constantly carried around a camera. 

“Mr Creevey.”

“Will we be practising against real curses like the last fourth-years? Cause Harry said that they had to fight off the Imperius Curse!”

Percy had heard about that particular debacle. Last year Crouch Jr, posed as Professor Moody, had illegally performed the Unforgivable Curses in front of the class and then trained them to resist the Imperius Curse. It was utterly disgraceful and had the Ministry been aware, Azkaban time would’ve been involved. 

“No, Mr Creevey. We’ll be discussing the nature and implications of the Unforgivable Curses during our legality section. But under no circumstances will they be performed in class - even under the guise of a demonstration.” 

“Oh, okay.” He lowered his hand in disappointment. 

Percy tapped the blackboard and it cleared the course-aims, replacing them instead with the day's lesson. 

“Everyone please turn to page fifty-eight in your textbook, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. We’ll be starting from chapter four.”

The class opened their book and flipped the pages back until they reached the chapter. 

“You’ll be learning about detection spells starting with the Human-Presence Revealing Charm, Homenum Revelio. It alerts the caster to any people in the vicinity. Can anybody tell me how it does this?” he asked the class. 

Ginny put her hand up, as well as a couple of Hufflepuffs. 

“Yes, Gin-I mean Miss Weasley?”

There were a couple of snickers but under his hard glare they fell silent. 

“It gives a marker to the bodies that only the caster can see.”

“Correct, five points to Gryffindor.”

Ginny grinned widely. 

“Now can anybody tell me the drawbacks to the charm?” 

Percy wrote the word “Drawbacks” on the blackboard. He looked around the room and picked a Hufflepuff girl with braids.

“It, uh, doesn’t cover a lot of space,” she said. “So, if you’re checking a large house or maybe a castle, you wouldn’t get an accurate reading.”

Percy wrote her answer on the board. 

“Excellent. Five points to Hufflepuff. We’ll go into its area limitations later in the lesson. Mr Smith, did you have another drawback for us?”

“It only detects humans and not other creatures,” answered Smith confidently. 

Percy added it to the list. 

“Very good. Another five points to Hufflepuff. Anyone else?” Percy gazed over the fourth-years but none of them raised a hand. “When cast correctly, Homenum Revelio creates a blanketed feeling in the people it detects, which means that the caster has also unintentionally revealed their own presence.” He wrote his answer on the board. “Quills out, you’ll need to write this down.”

Later in the lesson, Percy had the fourth-years lined up outside the classroom with the exception of a handful of students who remained inside. He conjured a large cloth screen, which obscured the view of the room. Then he had each student hide behind desks, cabinets, or the blackboard. 

“Next please,” he called out the door. 

Cadwallader stepped into the classroom. “Homenum Revelio,” he cast. 

“How many people? And where?” asked Percy. 

“Five. Two near the front of the sheet, one behind the blackboard, and one behind the door.”

“And the fifth?”

“That’s you, Professor.” 

“Excellent work.” Percy marked off Cadwallader’s name and noted his progress. 

“Alright, switch it up,” he asked the hidden fourth-years. Behind the screen he heard clattering, as they changed positions. 

The next student that entered was Colin Creevey, who rushed into the room with boundless energy.

He lifted his wand and yelled, “HoMEnum Revelio.” 

Nothing happened. 

Colin tried again. “HoMEnum Revelio. Why isn’t it working?”

“It’s alright. Take a breather. Not everyone can get it on their first attempt or even their second.”

“But I’ve followed all your instructions. What am I doing wrong?” he complained. 

“Do you want to practise the pronunciation again?” asked Percy. Colin nodded. “Say it with me, hoh-MUN-num.”

“Homenum,” repeated Colin.

“Good. Do you want to give it another try?”

Colin swooped his wand in an arch and said, “Homenum Revelio.” He broke into a smile. “I can see them. There’s two under the desks, one on top of the cabinet, and one sitting on the windowsill, and you of course Professor.”

“Well done, Mr Creevey.”

After all the students had a turn, he’d vanished the screen, and had everyone sit back down at their desks. 

“Homework for today is to continue reading chapter four of your textbook. In our next lesson, we’ll be studying the Revealing Charm, Aparecium. So make sure you thoroughly read its entry in preparation.” 

The bell tolled loudly, signalling the start of lunch. 

“Class dismissed.”

By the time Percy had made his way into the Great Hall, the dull ache of his stomach had become gnawing pangs. He’d been so anxious about teaching his first lesson that he’d neglected to eat any breakfast. A few professors had already begun to serve themselves lunch. 

Percy sat near the centre of the High Table, in the same spot he did the previous night. There were a few absences, notably Professor Flitwick, Snape, and Dumbledore. Although he supposed that the Headmaster probably ate in his office, as he was required to be available at the drop of a hat.  

Professor Sprout leaned over and spoke cheerily to him. “Severus won’t be joining us for lunch, he prefers to eat alone in his office in between classes.”

“And Filius? He seems like the type to enjoy company,” said Percy. 

He’d hoped to catch up with him to discuss Veda and set her up with a financial support fund. 

“Charms classes are taught on the third floor of the South Tower. Poor fellow won’t be here for another twenty minutes.” She chuckled. 

It made sense. The man was part-goblin and would take twice as long to traverse the castle. 

“Come sit next to me, there’s no assigned seating, contrary to popular belief. Although, saying that,  I'd recommend you not sit in Severus' spot.”

Percy moved closer to Professor Sprout. The other teacher, Professor Vector, nodded politely as she cut up a chicken leg. He started filling his plate with an assortment of food. 

“Tell us, how’d your first lesson go?” she asked. 

He smiled brightly. “Quite well actually. All the first-years successfully cast the Red Sparks Charm. They’re very keen to learn more.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad we’ve got a competent teacher this year,” she praised. 

Percy couldn’t help the rush of heat that spread to his cheeks at the compliment. 

“You didn’t have any troublemakers?” Professor Vector chimed in. “I find that there’s usually one or two in each year level.”

“There were a couple of behavioural issues but nothing worthy of detention. I may have to keep an eye on Mr Dillon, a first-year Slytherin, as he was quite disruptive,” admitted Percy. 

“I remember his older brother from a few years back,” said Professor Sprout. “Brilliant student. I think he went to work for Tutshill Tornados, as their field medic.”

No wonder the name had sounded so familiar to Percy, he would’ve heard it on the radio when he listened to the League Cup. The Tornados had won the last two seasons and were currently sitting at the top of the leaderboard. Anyone associated with them, whether it were trainer or medic, had become highly sorted after. Mr Dillon certainly had big shoes to fill. 

“Just remember,” said Professor Sprout. “Children often learn these behaviours at home. You won’t be able to fix all their problems but you can establish a safe learning environment.”

“I understand.”

Percy picked up his fork and tucked into his meal. He’d just swallowed a mouthful of potato when Madam Hooch vigorously approached the table. She only attended Hogwarts on Mondays to teach the first-years flying lessons. 

“There you are, Percy. I didn’t see you at breakfast,” she said, plopping down next to him.  

“Sorry, I had some last minute class preparations,” he lied. 

“I thought you’d like to know but your sister has signed up for Quidditch trials, as well as your brother.”

“Brother? You don’t mean Ron, do you?” he asked. 

“The very same. Angelina Johnson, the new Gryffindor Captain, has booked in the field at five o’clock Friday afternoon. You’re welcome to watch.”

His heart sank. Percy had his meeting with the Minister at six o’clock Friday but none of the Professors knew that. 

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be there.” He smiled a little too widely, then turned back to his plate. 

Ginny would be disappointed but he’d have to leave halfway through. He hoped she didn’t mind.

After lunch, he taught the second-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins. It was a relatively easygoing class. He started them with some basic healing principles and then wheeled out the projector. On the screen, he showed several slides of cuts, marks, or bites, and then asked them to identify the type of the wound and their treatments. In their next class, he planned to teach them the Bandaging Charm, “Ferula”. 

He pushed the projector back into the corner and began to neaten the desks. Tucked under one of the chairs, he noticed a bookbag left behind. It belonged to a Slytherin student, Miss Ballard. He climbed down the stairwell and found her walking across the first floor corridor.

“Miss Ballard!” he called. She turned around at his voice. “You’ve forgotten your bookbag.”

“Oh, thank you Professor Weasley,” she smiled gratefully.

Percy handed it over to her. 

“Please make sure you take better care of your belongings. It’s your responsibility to be prepared for class.”

“Yes, sir.”

Percy checked his pocket watch. His next class started in five minutes; a double with the fifth-years. 

“I’ll see you next Thursday, Miss Ballard.”

Taking two steps at a time, he clambered back upstairs to the third-floor corridor. When he approached the classroom, he noticed that all of the students had lined up outside the door. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were near the back of the group and were chatting amongst themselves. Before he could announce his presence, he overheard them mention his name.  

“I don’t want to be taught by Percy,” whined Ron. “He’s going to be unbearable, I just know it. It’ll be triple homework every day of the week.”

“Come on, Ron, at least give him a chance,” said Hermione. “I spoke with Ginny during lunch and she said her lesson with him was both informative and fun.”

Ron crossed his arms and refused to listen. “Yeah, well, you didn’t grow up with him. Fun and Percy just don’t mix. If there was an award for the world's biggest prat, he’d be the reigning champion.”

Percy had heard enough. He stepped forward and opened the classroom door with a wave of his wand. It swung inwards and banged against the wall with a loud thud. All the fifth-years jumped back and then turned around to face him, including Ron whose face had lost all colour.  

“Do you think he heard me?” he whispered frantically to his friends. 

“Good afternoon students,” said Percy. He kept his face devoid of emotion. “Please, come in and grab a seat. We’ll get started right away.”

Once the fifth-years had settled, Percy took roll call, and felt satisfied when Ron squirmed under his gaze as he called out “Weasley”. He tapped the blackboard with his wand making the course aims and classroom expectations appear. 

“Welcome back to your fifth year of Defence Against the Dark Arts. I’m sure some of you remember me from school but I’m here as your teacher, so please address me as Professor Weasley when we’re in my classroom. This will be your one and only warning.”

He pointed at the exam dates written on the board. 

“Next June, you’ll be sitting a series of important examinations, your Ordinary Wizarding Levels or O.W.L.s. The score you achieve will determine whether or not you’ll be allowed to continue onto the more advanced classes in your sixth and seventh years. These exams can also determine the type of job you can undertake outside of school.”

Percy waved his wand again and this time a copy of the curriculum was delivered to each student. 

“As you can see, we’ll be starting the term off with a course refresher, focusing on building a strong foundation to improve your overall performance in defensive magic. I’m aware of the difficulties you’ve faced in your first and second years, and how it’s affected your past exam scores.”

Quirrell wasn’t as incompetent as Lockhart but his students couldn’t understand him through his stutter and he’d failed to engage the class. 

“Fortunately, I’ve identified the gaps in your knowledge and we’ll work together to build on your skills. Once these topics have been covered, we’ll begin your O.W.L. curriculum. Any questions so far?”

Hermione shot her hand up into the air.

“Will you be following a Ministry approved curriculum?” she asked. 

“If you’re asking if I’ve had the material approved by the Ministry, you’d be correct. However, I’ve also reviewed the information myself and have ensured it’s up to date and…” he hesitated “…unbiased.”

He couldn’t exactly criticise the Ministry, not without it getting back to Fudge. Hermione lowered her hand, seemingly satisfied with his answer. 

“There’ll be a lot to cover this year,” noted Percy. “O.W.L. material begins with learning passive defences including warding and alarms, then we’ll head straight into concealments. After the winter holidays you’ll learn to cast advanced Shield Charms and its variants, followed by healing spells, and then the Patronus Charm.”

At the mention of patronuses, Percy noticed Harry share an amused look with Ron. 

“For our last term we’ll practise competitive duelling, using an array of offensive spells. Then in the last six weeks leading up to your exams, we’ll be reviewing your coursework and preparing for your O.W.L.s.” 

“I told you he’d go overboard,” Ron whispered to Harry. Hermione shushed him. 

“Please raise your hand if you’ve got something to share with the class, Mr Weasley,” said Percy. “Also, no, it’s not overboard if it’s necessary. You’ll see that all your other teachers will follow the same structure as myself. Your O.W.L.s are one of your most crucial years.”

Ron deeply blushed. “Sorry.”

“Now, if there are no other comments?” Percy gazed around the room. “Good, let’s begin today's lesson. As part of your refresher, we’ll be going over counter-spells.” 

He tapped the board, replacing the course aims with several notes. 

“Can anyone tell me what a counter-spell is?”

A few hands raised. 

“Miss Granger?”

“A counter-spell removes the effects of a curse or other dark charm,” she recited back to him. 

“Excellent, take five points for Gryffindor. So, we have counter-curses for curses, counter-charms for charms, counter-jinxes for jinxes, untransfigurations for transfigurations; and all of these fall under the umbrella term counter-spell. Why is it important to know the difference?” Percy asked the class.

Hermione’s hand shot into the air again but he picked a different student in the front. 

“Yes, Mr Macmillan?”

A blond haired boy answered. “You’ve got to know the spell you’re countering, otherwise you won’t be able to undo it.”

“Correct, that’s five points for Hufflepuff. It’s important to completely focus on the reversal of the effect you’re trying to counter. For example, if you use the Leg-Locker counter-curse on a Jelly-Legs Curse, nothing will happen. Intent, as well as concentration, are the two most important aspects to counter-spells.”

Percy opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a box of silver trinkets that he conjured the night before. 

“Please open your textbooks to page thirty and read the section on counter-spells, while I set up for your practical.”

All the fifth-years took out a copy of The Defence to your Offence: An Intermediate Guide to Defensive Magic that he’d assigned to all O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students. Percy would have prepared the practical earlier but he had to return Miss Ballard’s bookbag. He took out the trinkets and cast a low-levelled charm on each one. Some hummed a high-pitched melody, others changed colour every time you blinked, and the rest rocked side-to-side. They were all altered in a way that changed their state. 

“Alright class, books down and wands out. I’ll be teaching you the counter-spell Reverte (ree-VUHR-tay). It returns objects to their original positions or states. I'd like for each of you to grab a trinket from this box and place it on your desk. You’ll be countering the effects I’ve put on them.”

Once everyone had grabbed a trinket, he showed them the wand movement. 

“Now, make sure you maintain eye contact with the object and envision its original state in your mind. There’s an unaltered version on my desk for your comparison.”

Percy watched as the fifth-years attempted the counter-spell with varying degrees of success. The first to cast it correctly was Hermione, followed closely by Ernest Macmillan. It seemed like they were both vying for top spot in the class. 

As he walked around the room, he heard an ear-splitting sound coming from Neville’s desk. His trinket had continued to get louder and louder, until it was almost screaming at him. 

“Can I see you attempt the spell again, Mr Longbottom?” asked Percy. 

Neville nodded and flicked his wand in a sweeping motion. “Reverte.”

The trinket flipped over on the table but the horrible high-pitched noise remained. Both students on either side of Neville put their hands over their ears.  

“Let’s try something else,” suggested Percy.

He non-verbally cast “Reverte” and the trinket silenced, returning to its original state, but the ringing in his ears still remained. Then Percy applied a charm to make it rapidly change colours. 

“Try it again, Mr Longbottom.”

He left him alone to practice. Walking past the desks, he watched Harry and Ron take turns performing the counter-spell. Harry successfully countered his trinket but Ron had his stuck on a putrid-yellow colour.

“Excellent job, Mr Potter,” praised Percy. “Mr Weasley, you’re almost there. Try picturing the trinket clearly in your mind.”

“I am,” muttered Ron stubbornly. 

Percy could tell that he was getting frustrated. Both Harry and Hermione had already performed the spell, so he probably felt a sense of inadequacy. 

“Take a breath and really look at the original on the desk. Notice the metallic colour and the small grooves on the side. Visualise its details.”  

Ron sighed but did as Percy asked. He carefully studied the copy and then cast “Reverte”, changing the trinket back into its true form. 

“Well done, Mr Weasley. You only needed a bit more faith in your own ability.”

“Thanks…Professor,” he said earnestly.

Near the end of the lesson, all but one student could perform the counter-spell. Neville, no matter how many times he tried, could not get his trinket to change back. 

“Alright class, please finish reading pages thirty to forty-nine on counter-spells. Homework is ten inches of parchment on the differences between counter-charms and untransfigurations, and I expect at least three different counter-spells listed as examples. It’ll be due Friday afternoon at the beginning of our next lesson.”

The bell rang, signalling the end of class. All of the students scrambled to pack away their bookbags and get down to dinner. Percy collected the trinkets and tucked them into his desk drawer to be reused. When he turned around, three students had remained behind; Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

They frantically whispered to each other, before Harry shoved Ron forward.

“Yes?” Percy asked. 

“I, uh, wanted to apologise. You weren’t as bad as I thought you’d be,” said Ron.

Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. “Ron!”

“Sorry, that came out wrong.” Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to apologise for what I said earlier in the hall. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“It’s water under the bridge,” forgave Percy. “I knew you’d be upset when I became your teacher. You’ve never liked it when I told you what to do.”

Ron scuffed his shoes on the floor, feeling awkward. “It’s not just you,” he admitted. “It’s any of our brothers. I don’t want to be bossed around.”

“I understand that but things have changed. I’m not your brother in the classroom, I’m your professor and I need you to respect that.”

“Okay,” agreed Ron. There was a pause. “So, since we are brothers, does that mean I get special privileges? Like…no homework?” he cheekily asked.

Percy snorted. “What do you think?”

“It was worth a try.” Ron chuckled. 

Harry and Hermione, sensing that the conflict was over, stepped forward to join them.

“So, I see that we have night patrol together,” Percy told Ron. “How’ve you been settling into Prefect duties?”

Ron shared a glance with Hermione. She glared back with tightly pursed lips.

“Uh, it’s alright, I guess.”

“Have you disciplined any students?” asked Percy.

“Well, no, but I’m going for a more laid-back approach. You know, let them come to me.”

“Uh huh.” Percy sighed. Ron would need to step up more than that. “And you, Hermione? How are you finding the responsibility?”

Hermione beamed. “It’s been great so far. Ron and I led the first-years up to Gryffindor Tower last night and we even helped them find their way to class this morning. There are difficulties, as to be expected, but I’ve already made progress with some of the older students. I think they're really starting to respect my authority as a Prefect.”

Percy wondered how well that’d work on the twins. 

“Well, if you need any advice, I’m happy to help. That goes for you too, Ron.”

“Yeah, sure,” mumbled Ron. 

“Um, Professor?” asked Hermione. 

“You can call me Percy outside of class if you’d prefer.” 

“Okay Percy. I, uh, wanted to know more about the Ministry’s involvement.”

“I’ll answer what I can.”

Hermione bombarded him with several questions at once. “Will the Ministry replace all the Hogwarts teachers with their own candidates? Also, what do they plan to do with Professor Dumbledore? How far are they willing to interfere?”

“Those are some excellent questions that I don't know the answers to,” admitted Percy. Fudge had been very tight-lipped. “You can bet that whatever the Minister has planned won’t be good. It’s the only reason I’m here right now.”

He held hope that Jack, along with the Taskforce, would eventually gather enough evidence to charge Fudge with abuse of power and corruption.  

“Are you disappointed to be at Hogwarts and not, you know, still at the Ministry?” asked Ron. “You always seemed so happy writing your reports.”

“...Uh…” 

Two months ago, Percy would’ve answered with a resounding yes but now that he was at Hogwarts, he wasn’t so sure. He found that he liked instilling knowledge and teaching a variety of topics. The small wins he had today, made him feel like he was making an impact on the upcoming generations. 

“I may not have chosen this job but I’ve still found my own sense of purpose here.”

Chapter Text

Percy sipped his cup of tea and felt the warmth spread all the way down to his stomach. The crisp morning air was something he’d have to get used to. He opened the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, then casually skimmed through the articles. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people in the Great Hall, so he could read without interruption. 

He flipped through the pages and frowned at the deliberate misinformation. Professor Sprout was right, it was a load of tosh. Each story had purposely interwoven little digs about Harry and Dumbledore into it. He’d seen enough when he read the analogy “pulling a Potter” used to describe a musician lying about lip-syncing. 

After tossing the paper aside, Percy tucked into his breakfast - a plate of eggs and toast. He absentmindedly listened to the students, letting their idle chatter wash over him. 

“...Dad said not to go near Potter ‘cause he’s too unstable…”

In front of him was a group of first-year Ravenclaws, huddled together around a copy of the Daily Prophet. The boy who spoke, he recognised as Mr Sage, a rather pompous yet well-behaved student from his class yesterday. 

“...the paper said that Potter had fainted during the Tournament last year…Dad says it sounds like he’s troubled…”

This wasn’t the first time he’d heard such whispers. At the Welcoming Feast, when the school wasn’t gossiping about him, they were spreading rumours about Harry and Dumbledore. Most of the student body were curious about Cedric’s death and wanted the details straight from the source. 

“...I dunno, I think he’s nice. He gave me directions to Transfiguration,” said Veda in a shy voice. 

“Yeah, but my Dad said-” began Sage again.

“I don’t want to hear what your Dad has to say, Sage. Neither you nor him know what Potter’s truly like,” chided Ramona. She was the most head-strong of the group. 

“Whatever,” said Sage, before he snatched the paper back and stormed out the Hall. 

Percy felt conflicted. He wasn’t sure what side of the argument he sat on. Harry wasn’t deranged or dangerous, as the papers liked to claim, but he did suffer from some type of affliction. His scar constantly bothered him and he sometimes had fainting spells, but none of those things were his fault. 

He pushed aside his breakfast, no longer hungry, then stood up to leave. There were better things to do than listen to the students gossip. Outside the Great Hall he heard several raised voices echoing down the stairwell. One of them sounded suspiciously like Harry. 

“Shove off, Malfoy.”

“Precious Potter. Not so tough without your little friends.” 

Percy hurriedly climbed the stairs, heading towards the argument. 

“Where are Weasley and Granger? Don’t tell me they’ve finally decided to ditch you?” 

There were several snickers. 

“Get out of my way.”

Percy turned the corner and saw Harry shove past Malfoy, who had blocked the corridor along with Crabbe and Goyle. 

“You better be careful, Potter.” Malfoy’s lip curled back into a snarl. “Unlike you, I’m a Prefect. One wrong move and you’ll find yourself in a heap of trouble. I could have you scrubbing cauldrons with Professor Snape for a week.”

It was at that moment that Harry looked up and locked eyes with Percy.

“You’ll do no such thing, Mr Malfoy,” said Percy, stepping forward.

The three Slytherin boys turned around, surprised to see a Professor standing there. 

“That’s twenty points from Slytherin for abusing your position.” 

Malfoy stepped back, spluttering. “Y-You can’t do that.”

“As your Professor, you’ll find that I can.”

“You think you’re so important just because you’ve been appointed by the Ministry. Well my father has connections with the Minister, one word and he’ll send you packing,” spat Malfoy. 

If only it were that easy, thought Percy, but he knew better than to voice his displeasure out loud. 

“Detention, Mr Malfoy. I won’t tolerate such disrespectful behaviour.”

“Detention!?” cried Malfoy. “But…but…”

Harry grinned broadly. 

“Let’s make it nine o’clock, Saturday morning, my office. Bring a quill and ink pot.”

Malfoy’s face flushed a deep red. He was furious but held his tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“Now move along.”

Percy watched as Malfoy and his two cronies disappeared down the end of the corridor, leaving him alone with Harry. 

“Are you alright?” asked Percy.

“That was brilliant! You should’ve seen the look on his face when he realised he was caught.” 

“Yes, well, Malfoy is still a student no matter who his father happens to be.” Percy frowned thinking about the loathsome man that was Lucius Malfoy. “Is there a reason you’re going to breakfast alone? You’re usually joined at the hip with Ron and Hermione.”

Harry sighed and looked out one of the turret windows. The early rays of the morning sun shone onto their faces.

“Ron’s still sleeping and Hermione’s gone off to the Library to finish some homework. I didn’t want to wait around for them in the common room,” admitted Harry. 

“I guess the Hogwarts rumour mill is still active as usual.” 

Percy recalled the conversation he’d overheard in the Great Hall. Students were torn between believing Harry or condemning him as a liar. 

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” Harry humorlessly laughed. 

Percy felt a pang of guilt. The kid didn’t deserve any of it. 

“Listen, you can’t stop people gossiping but you can control the way you react to them,” advised Percy. “I know it’s easier said than done but try to remain unbothered by the comments. At this point, they’re probably looking to get a rise out of you.”

Harry nodded. “I know.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

Percy left Harry by the turret and continued on his way up to the third floor corridor. There was nothing more he could do.

Back in his classroom, Percy prepared for the seventh-years. He tidied the desks and had just cleared the board, when a group of Hufflepuff students entered the room. 

An older boy, Preece, approached him first.

“Good morning Professor. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a few housemates along. We’re all interested in your memorial project for Cedric,” he said.

Percy had almost forgotten. He’d asked them at the Welcoming Feast to speak with him before class. There were twelve Hufflepuff students, ranging from fifth to seventh-year. 

“That’s not a problem. Let me grab a few things and I’ll explain my idea.”

Percy fished out some parchment paper, cut into the exact size of the alcove stones. He handed them to Preece. 

“Anyone who wishes to participate can write or draw a message on these papers. I’ll be transferring them onto the stone in the southern courtyard alcove.”

“The one Cedric used to hang out at?” asked Abbott, a fifth-year girl. 

Percy nodded. “I’m sure that particular spot holds many memories for you, so it’s important to have a meaningful place to remember the good he brought into the world.”

There was contemplative silence around the room before Preece spoke up. “Can we write anything?” he asked.

“Within reason. The rest of the school will also be able to read these messages, so nothing tasteless please. I’ll reject anything I deem inappropriate,” explained Percy. 

There was collective agreement from the group. 

“Anyone can get involved, even the younger years,” continued Percy. “Just direct them to me and I'll give them a paper.”

“Is there a deadline?” asked Stimpson, a brunette seventh-year student. 

“I hope to have all the messages completed before October.”

Preece handed the papers around and took a large stack for the rest of the House. Percy checked his pocket watch, the students would’ve just finished breakfast. 

“Seventh-years you’re welcome to stay here but the rest of you should get ready for your next class.”

Percy watched as the younger years left, leaving only his N.E.W.T. students behind. They placed their bookbags on the desks and took out their textbooks. He had a bit of time before the rest of the class arrived.

After his conversation with Ginny, he’d thought long and hard on how he’d handle the twins. He knew they’d pull some kind of prank, but whatever they’d planned would likely disrupt his lesson and embarrass him. If he let them disrespect his authority as a teacher, he’d lose control of the class. So he had to shut them down fast.

Percy approached Preece, who was sitting at the front next to his friends. “Mr Preece, would you and three of your classmates like to assist me with a little experiment?”

“Sure, Professor. What do you want us to do?” he asked, more than a little curious at the request. 

He had Preece and Stimpson on one side of the classroom door, and the other two on the opposite side. 

“Are you all familiar with the general counter-spell Finite Incantatem?” asked Percy.

“Yeah, it’s a third-year spell. A derivative of Finite,” said Stimpson. 

“That’s right. It terminates the effects of simple charms, but when cast by multiple people at once, it can negate all spells,” explained Percy. 

The four students looked at each other confused.

“And I’m guessing you want all of us to cast it?” asked Preece. 

“That’s correct. With the combined effort of five casters, including myself, any charms, curses, or enchantments will be undone the moment a person walks through the door.”

“But why?” asked Stimpson. “Why would you want us to do that?”

Percy smiled, his expression turning slightly devious. “You’ll see.”

Stimpson shrugged. “I’m game if everyone else is?”

“Excellent,” said Percy. “So, on the count of three, I want you to cast the counter-spell over the doorway. Ready?”

They nodded and took out their wands.

“Three…two…one…Finite Incantatem.”

All four students, plus Percy, cast the spell, causing a red light to engulf the doorway. It settled, leaving no trace behind.  

“Excellent job. Now we can all take a seat and enjoy the show.” Percy grinned at them. 

It was a little unorthodox but he had to make a strong statement. He would not tolerate the twins' shenanigans in his classroom. 

All the Hufflepuffs sat at their desks and watched the door with unabashed excitement. The first to walk through was a Ravenclaw girl with black hair tied back into an elaborate knot. When she passed the doorway, her hair collapsed onto her face, negating the magic that held it up. 

“What’s happened to my hair?” she cried, pushing the strands behind her ears. 

“Sorry Miss Desford, we’re experimenting with Finite Incantatem,” explained Percy. “I’m waiting for a particular set of twins.”

“Oh,” she grinned savagely, understanding exactly who he was referring to. “Then carry on. Your brothers have been more than a nuisance to me. I’d love to see them get their comeuppance.” 

She took a seat next to the Hufflepuffs and gleefully waited. A few more Ravenclaws entered and then a group of Slytherins. The moment they passed the threshold their bookbags split open, causing an assortment of textbooks to spill onto the floor. Each bag had been enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, which failed under the counter-spell. 

Percy waved his wand and all the textbooks floated onto the desks in six neat piles. “If you bring your bags here, I’ll fix any tears and reapply the extension charms on them,” he addressed the students.

“What happened?” asked Warrington, one of the Chasers for Slytherin’s Quidditch team. 

Desford leaned forward to answer. “The doorway is enchanted. We’re waiting for the Weasley twins to arrive.”

The Slytherins confusion turned into a vicious grin. Percy was sure that they’d suffered many pranks over the years by his brothers. He grabbed their bags and quickly mended them, reapplying all the original charms. 

Next to walk in was Alica Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, two Gryffindors. Their bags slipped off their shoulders and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. The Feather-Light Charms they applied had been reversed. 

Percy picked up their bags and recast the charms. “Are my brothers behind you?” 

“Yeah,” answered Spinnet. “They should be just around the corner. What’s going on?”

“Take a seat.” He told them. 

The girls shared a bemused look before sitting at two desks near the back of the room. He heard their voices before he saw them. Fred and George were walking in front of their friend, Lee Jordan, who was laughing at a joke they’d just made. The entire class froze as the twins crossed the doorway. 

For a split second nothing happened and then a loud bang sounded from their pockets. An explosion of colour covered the twins in powder, as the device they’d hidden went off. Their skin immediately grew orange fur, making them look like orangutans. 

The class burst into uncontrollable laughter. Miss Desford doubled over on her desk giggling, while Warrington clutching his side as he struggled to regain composure. Even Lee Jordan couldn’t keep a straight face at his friends’ ridiculous appearance. 

“What-” “Who-” The twins said simultaneously, looking between themselves and then at Percy. “How did you..?”

“May this be a reminder to leave your pranking devices in your dormitories. There’s no place for them in my classroom,” chastised Percy, as he grinned at their predicament. “Now take a seat, we’ll begin shortly.”

“But what about this?” exclaimed George, pointing at his furry arms and legs. 

“Does it hurt?” asked Percy.

“Well, no, but-”

He interrupted him. “Then you’re fine.”

Both twins glared nastily at him, then took a seat next to Lee Jordan.

Jordan snorted. “Why don’t you stop monkeying around.” 

The class burst into another fit of laughter. 

Percy went over to the doorway and removed the counter-spell. Then tapped the blackboard filling it with the seventh-year course aims. The last few students entered the classroom, snickered at the bizarre sight of the orangutan-twins, and then took a seat. 

“Quiet down now,” Percy told the class. The last few giggles broke off. 

He took roll call and then lectured the class on the importance of N.E.W.T.s, explaining how critical the exams were for their future careers. They’d dedicate almost the entire last term for revision and practice, to achieve the best possible marks. 

“Now apart from exam preparation, we have a few topics to cover this year. We’ll start with a section on mind magic and then quickly move onto advanced healing spells. After the Christmas holidays you’ll be studying curse-breaking, as well as continuing to practise your nonverbal casting. Finally, you’ll be assigned your Dark Arts Case Study project, which will take you into Easter. I’ll provide more details closer to the date,” informed Percy.

Every student, apart from the twins, were taking detailed notes. 

“Let’s move onto today's lesson; identifying the influence of mind altering curses and potions. Can anybody tell me what classifies as mind magic?” Percy asked the class. 

Several hands raised.

“Yes, Mr Caldwell?”

A heavy-set Hufflepuff answered. “Mind magic alters the person's brain, including their emotions, memories, or personality.”

“Excellent, five points for Hufflepuff. This kind of magic takes away the free will of a person and is a morally grey area of study. Many of these curses have been made illegal but some potions are readily available to the public. Let’s list as many as we can.”

Percy grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote “Mind Magics” on the blackboard. 

“Miss Desford?” He pointed to the Ravenclaw girl with the messy hair. 

“The Imperius Curse,” she stated. 

“Good.” 

Percy marked it on the board and then wrote “Unforgivable Curse” and “Life sentence in Azkaban” next to it.

“Mr Davies?”

Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, answered. “Um, the Confundus Charm?”

“Davies doesn’t need the Confundus Charm when he's already naturally confused,” Fred stage-whispered to George, loud enough for the entire class to hear.

“Ten points from Gryffindor. Mr Weasley, I won’t tolerate disrespect in my classroom nor will I allow interruptions,” scolded Percy. He ignored the twins' look of outrage and turned back to Davies. “Now, as I was about to say, the Confundus Charm is taught in your fifth-year, so it’s a widely accepted spell but quite devastating if used inappropriately. A Confunded person could easily get hurt or cause others to get hurt during their confusion.”

He added the spell to the board with the word “legal” next to it. 

“How about some mind altering potions?” asked Percy. 

“Veritaserum,” answered Angelina Johnson. 

“Good. Use of this potion is strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. Some witches and wizards have a natural resistance to its effects, whilst others have trained themselves against it. However, Veritaserum is unreliable and cannot be used as definitive proof of guilt or innocence.” 

He added it to the board and wrote “restricted”. 

“Miss Stimpson?”

“How about love potions?” she asked. 

Percy smiled. “Now love potions are interesting. They can create a powerful infatuation or obsession from the drinker, mimicking the notion of love. Hogwarts has banned all such potions but the general public can still purchase them. The effects do eventually wear off, so the giver must continually administer doses to keep it active.”

Percy wrote it on the board and added the words “readily available”. 

He went around the room and received more answers; including leaves of the Alihotsy plant (induced hysteria and uncontrollable laughter), Wampus cats (hypnotised their victims), Forgetfulness Potion (memory loss), Befuddlement Draught (induced recklessness), and Memory Charms (like Obliviate). 

During the discussion, the twins' botched prank wore off and they returned to their normal state. 

“I think we’ve got a long enough list. Now, how do we determine whether someone is under the influence of mind altering magic?”

A few hands raised. Percy looked around the room and picked Preece. 

“Changes in their personality, like forgetfulness or increased erratic behaviour. They can become easily impressionable and sometimes they’ve got glazed eyes…um…” Preece trailed off, losing confidence in his answer. 

“Good. Five points for Hufflepuff,” encouraged Percy. “A person may also have a decreased response to external stimuli but that isn’t always the case. Some spells, like the Imperius Curse, cause the victim to act and function as they normally would. It’s why the Ministry has such a difficult time determining who's been cursed and who’s lied to escape punishment.”

Lee Jordan raised his hand. “But how can we tell if someone is Imperiused?”

“Excellent question, Mr Jordan. There are no tell-tale signs of magic, no physical or visible marks. So, the only way to determine whether someone is Imperiused, is if you catch them acting against their own morals or behaving inconsistently.”

The curse was unforgivable for a reason. 

“There are those with exceptional will power, who could attempt or completely resist it, but it’s quite rare,” continued Percy. “During such occasions, you may be able to spot the person physically struggling against the curse.”

The class scribbled down notes on their parchment paper. 

“Now, what I’d like you to do is to divide into pairs and then pick one of the mind magics from our list. You’ll be researching its effect on the mind and any long-term repercussions from prolonged use, its place within our legal system including any restrictions, and how to accurately identify a person under its influence. Feel free to use your textbook, The Defence to your Offence: An Intermediate Guide to Defensive Magic, or any of the books on the shelves behind me.” 

Percy pointed to the bookshelves lined with Defensive tomes that Autumn and Jack had supplied. 

“You’ll have today, Friday, and next Tuesday to research. Then you’ll present your findings to the class the following week on the thirteenth. Please refer to the criteria provided.” Percy waved his wand and a copy landed on each student’s desk. “Once you’ve selected your mind magic, come up and see me. I’ll cross it off the board.”

All the students frantically rushed to find a partner, not wanting to be stuck with someone they didn’t like, and then lined up at the board. Percy had an even number of students, so no one would be left out. After the topics had been assigned, the students diligently worked on their reports, all except the twins. They sat at the back of the room and hadn’t even cracked open a book. 

“Is there something you didn’t understand about the assignment?” asked Percy.

“No,” answered Fred. “We just think it’s a waste of our time.”

Percy frowned. “I can assure you that mind magic will come up in your N.E.W.T. exams.”

The twins shared a knowing look between themselves. 

“We’ve got bigger and better avenues than worrying about exams,” said George.

“Suit yourselves but I won’t hesitate to fail you if you don’t do the work.”

“We’d expect nothing less of our dear brother,” said Fred sarcastically. 

Percy left them alone and concentrated on the students that actually wanted to be there. As long as his brothers didn’t disrupt the class, he wouldn’t further engage with them. Why they bothered signing up for N.E.W.T. courses remained a mystery to him. 

Word spread and the twin’s failed prank quickly became known to the rest of the school. Several students mocked them by mimicking monkey sounds when they walked down the halls. To their credit, they took it all in stride, even joining in with the jokes to save face. 

In the Great Hall, Percy sat at the High Table next to Professor Flitwick, who’d arrived earlier than usual to dinner. 

“I heard about your brothers,” Professor Flitwick chuckled. “Quite the show, indeed.” He pointed towards the twins, who were pretending to be monkeys at the end of Gryffindor table.

“Better them than their intended target,” said Percy, shaking his head at their antics. 

Professor Flitwick raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve got both of them in your N.E.W.T. class, right?” asked Percy. “How do they behave with you?” 

“I’ll admit, they’re more than a handful at times and it can be difficult to keep their attention. If they’re not interested, they just won’t participate. It’s a shame because they’re brilliant students when they put their minds to it,” admitted Professor Flitwick. 

He was spot on. The twins had the talent, it was only the lack of motivation holding them back. 

“I know they’re only pushing against my boundaries to see how far I’ll bend, but it’s frustrating. Why can’t they just act like all my other N.E.W.T. students? At least they’re concerned about their futures,” complained Percy.

“I’m sure they’ll settle down, once they get used to you.”

Percy cut into his beef wellington. “I hope so. I’m not too keen on explaining to my parents why my brothers failed their N.E.W.T. course.”

He grabbed the gravy boat and poured a madeira wine sauce over his meat. 

“So, Filius, there was something else I wanted to bring up with you,” continued Percy. “You know Miss Veda, one of your first-year students?” 

Professor Flitwick nodded. 

“I’m not sure if you're aware of her financial situation but she needs some support. She came to me at the end of class yesterday and admitted that her parents couldn’t afford the entire booklist. I’ve lent her my copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection but you’ll have to check with her for anything else she’s missing.”

“Oh dear, I’d have hoped that her parents would’ve mentioned something,” said Professor Flitwick. 

“Yes, well, if it wasn’t for her friend, Ramona, I don’t think she’d have even asked me.”

He looked down at the Ravenclaw table and watched the first-years eat dinner. Ramona was a good friend and he hoped Veda knew it. 

“Don’t worry,” comforted Professor Flitwick. “I’ll take things from here and set up a Hogwarts fund with her parents. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

Percy smiled, then turned his attention back to his meal. Not long after, Snape entered the Great Hall, his cloak billowing out as he approached the table. He sat at his usual spot without uttering a word. 

“Good evening, Severus,” spoke Professor Flitwick leaning across the table. 

Snape turned and politely nodded. “Same to you.”

Percy jerked his head in a half-hearted nod, unsure if he should also offer a greeting after being ignored for the last two days. 

“Weasley, may I have a word?” Snape asked, barely moving his lips. To a student, it would appear that he hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Sure.” 

Professor Flitwick, noticing the tense atmosphere, sat back and gave them space. 

“I’m aware that you’ve assigned detention to Draco Malfoy this upcoming Saturday,” Snape drawled, as he cut into his beef. 

“That’s correct.” 

Neither man looked at each other. 

“As his Head of House, I ask that you rescind his punishment.”

Percy frowned, unsure if he’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?” 

“Malfoy informed me during lunch that you only witnessed part of the altercation. You may not be aware but Potter had physically shoved him before your arrival. Malfoy felt threatened and used his status as a Prefect to deescalate the situation.”

Percy felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him. Snape couldn’t be serious. 

“Listen, I don’t know the details of what Mr Malfoy said to you but I clearly caught him abusing his Prefect powers, let alone the threats he made to myself. So no, his punishment stays.”

Snape turned and looked at him for the first time. His lip curled into a condescending sneer. 

“That is quite unfortunate. His father, of course, will be informed of the detention. I hope you’re accepting of the consequences.”

Percy had more than his fair share of enemies. Lucius Malfoy was but a footnote on that long list. 

“If he takes issue, by all means, direct him to me,” said Percy as he matched Snape’s glare. 

The Potions Master narrowed his eyes, then turned back to his meal, signalling the end of the conversation. Percy refused to let Malfoy get away with such poor behaviour. If that meant he’d have the condemnation of his father, then so be it.

A few hours after dinner, Percy stood outside the Great Hall waiting for the fifth-year Prefects to join him. He’d be in charge of the night patrol. The first to arrive were Ron and Hermione. 

“Good evening, Professor,” said Hermione. “I hope you don’t mind but we’re a little early.”

“Not at all. I’m glad to have the company. How were your lessons today?” asked Percy.

“Quite busy,” said Hermione. “We reviewed summoning spells in Charms, Professor Flitwick warned us that they’d be on our O.W.L.s, then we learnt Vanishing Spells in Transfiguration, and after lunch Professor Grubbly-Plank showed us a colony of Bowtruckles.”

“Professor Flitwick’s right. I remember there being a portion on summoning spells when I took my O.W.L.s,” recalled Percy. 

“Enough talk about O.W.L.s please. We're already copping plenty of it during class,” moaned Ron.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” said Percy. “If you keep a schedule, I’m sure you’ll stay on top-”

“So Percy,” interrupted Ron. “Harry told us about your confrontation with Malfoy this morning. Did you really give him detention?”

“I did. He was caught abusing his position as a Prefect.”

“Brilliant!” exclaimed Ron. 

Percy glared at his brother, who immediately backtracked his statement. “You know what I meant. It’s good that he actually got punished, for once.”

“I’ll admit, I’m tired of the Malfoys never facing any consequences,” confessed Percy. Both the father and the son, he added in his mind.

There was a loud clatter behind them. They all turned their heads and listened to footsteps echoing down the corridor. Percy squinted to see if it were a teacher or a student. 

“Hello, dears, how are we this fine evening?” asked Professor Trelawney, covered in her spangled shawl. She had climbed down from her chambers in the North Tower to join them. 

“I’m well, Sybill. Are you the other teacher joining us for night duty?” asked Percy.

He’d hoped to have another responsible adult on hand. Hermione must’ve shared the same sentiment, as she eyed Professor Trelawney warily. 

“Yes, I cannot always stay atop my tower.” She turned and then spoke to Ron. “The moon is especially bright tonight, so make sure you record your dreams.” At Ron’s quizzical look, she elaborated. “The moonlight clears your Inner Eye, dear.”

“Right, of course, for the dream journal you assigned,” remembered Ron. 

Percy lightly shook his head. Maybe he should make Ron keep a homework schedule. 

More footsteps were heard as the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Prefects joined them. The only ones they were waiting for were Malfoy and Pansy. He checked his pocket watch, they had five minutes before he marked them as tardy. 

From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of white-blond hair. They’d arrived just on time, having climbed up from the dungeons. Malfoy stood at the edge of the group and refused to look Percy in the face. 

Pansy greeted them on his behalf. “We’re here,” she said in a nasally voice. 

“Okay, that’s everyone,” began Percy. “I’ll have you each walk the corridors, near your House entrances. If you catch anyone out of bed, you’re to redirect them back to their common room and remind them of the nine o’clock curfew. Please remember that you’re to give warnings first and only take House points if they fail to listen.” Percy pointedly looked at Malfoy, who found the floor very interesting. “If you need assistance, please inform either myself or Professor Trelawney, and if you’re unable to reach us, you can speak to the portraits who’ll deliver your message to the closest teacher.”

They split into four groups, one per House. 

Percy whispered to Professor Trelawney. “Could you keep a close eye on Malfoy and make sure he doesn’t abuse his powers.”

She nodded and said, “Nothing will get past me,” then tapped her temple indicating her Inner Eye. 

Percy pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. He would’ve done it himself but he’d planned on mentoring Ron that night.

“Meet back here at eleven o’clock for a debrief,” said Percy, before each group split off towards their House entrances. 

Hermione and Ron followed him up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower. The corridors were covered in different tapestries and paintings, with torches placed regularly to light the long pathways. Most of the portraits were either sleeping or spoke in hushed voices as they passed them. 

They reached a set of dark brown doors, next to a dented suit of armour. It raised a gloved hand and pointed at the doors. Nearly everything in the castle had a degree of sentience or were enchanted to assist the Hogwarts staff when called upon. Percy pushed the door, which opened into another set of stairs, then he stopped and listened. There was a quiet noise emanating from the lower floor, it sounded like muffled sobs. 

Percy gestured to the others to follow him. On the bottom step sat a first-year Gryffindor student, Miss Cato. She rubbed her nose, sniffling loudly. 

“Miss Cato, what are you doing here? It’s after curfew,” said Percy gently. 

“I can’t find the portrait entrance and all my friends have already gone to bed.”

He spotted a couple of library books under her arm. She must’ve gotten lost on her way back. 

“Hermione, could you take her up to the common room?” asked Percy.

“Come here, I’ll show you the entrance.” Hermione stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you remember the password?” 

Cato nodded. “It’s Mimbulus Mimbletonia,” she sniffed. 

Percy conjured a tissue and handed it to her. Cato wiped the tears off her face, then held Hermione’s hand as she was led back upstairs. 

“Sometimes it's better to be gentle, especially with the younger years,” Percy explained to Ron. “As a Prefect, you must use discretion when discipling your housemates. You need to be both a positive role model and adhere to the school rules.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough of the lecture please,” mumbled Ron.

“You’ve been picked to be a Prefect for a reason, Ron. Professor McGonagall chose you because you’ve got the qualities of a leader. Don’t waste the opportunity.”

Ron’s eyebrows drew together, as he processed Percy’s words. He opened his mouth to say something and then promptly closed it. 

“Come on, let’s keep patrolling. Hermione will catch up to us,” said Percy. 

They climbed the stairs in silence and wandered down a corridor on the far side of the tower. Percy felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck. Someone was watching them. 

He took out his wand and non-verbally cast “Homenum Revelio”. Three markers appeared in the hallway, one for Ron, one for himself, and one for an unknown person standing beside a suit of armour. Percy held his hand out and stopped Ron from taking another step. 

“If someone is hiding, please reveal yourself immediately,” he said. 

No one moved. 

He raised his wand and cast the Disillusionment counter-spell. Once the charm was removed, the hidden figure was revealed to be Lee Jordan. 

“...Good evening, Professor.” Lee grinned.

“And what exactly are you doing out past curfew, Mr Jordan?” scolded Percy. 

“Oh, I uh, just fancied a moonlit walk,” he lied. 

Percy leaned down to Ron and whispered in his ear. “Here’s your chance. Take charge and issue a punishment you see fit.”

Ron stepped forward and cleared his throat. “So, uh, Lee, you shouldn’t be wandering the halls after dark.”

Lee snorted. “Yeah, the Professor here has already covered that.”

Ron blushed a vibrant red. “You know the rules. I’m going to have to dock ten, no, wait, fifteen points from Gryffindor.”

“The twins were right, being a Prefect does make you a prat.” Lee rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have to dock points if you weren’t stupid enough to get caught.”

“Ron,” warned Percy. 

“Sorry.” He turned back to Lee. “We’ll be escorting you back to the common room and we better not see you out here again or else I’ll…” Ron thought for a moment. “...give you a detention.”

“Whatever,” said Lee. 

They walked back towards Gryffindor Tower. 

Percy whispered under his breath. “Good job, Ron.”

When they arrived, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open. Lee entered as Hermione walked out. She’d managed to calm down Cato and get her to bed. For the final hour of patrol, neither Percy or any of the other Prefects found another student breaking curfew. They all met at the entrance to the Great Hall and debriefed. 

Professor Trelawney spoke privately with Percy, as the other Prefects mingled. “I’m happy to report that Mr Malfoy and company were well-behaved, as I foretold.”

“Excellent, let’s wrap things up.”

Percy dismissed the Prefects but stopped Ron at the last second. “You’ve done well today.” Ron grinned at the compliment. “I know it must be difficult to juggle Prefect duties with your O.W.L. homework and Quidditch practice.”

Ron looked behind his shoulder, ensuring Hermione wasn’t listening. 

“How’d you know about my practices? I haven’t even told Harry yet,” he asked. 

“Madam Hooch told me that both you and Ginny were trying out this Friday. I wanted to let you know that I'll be attending to offer my support.”

Ron shirked away. “You don’t have to make a big deal of it or anything. I probably won’t earn a spot.”

Percy felt a pang of sadness. His brother was a deeply insecure person. Probably caused by years of comparison to his older siblings, including himself. 

“Have a little faith. I’ve seen you practise at home,” he encouraged. 

Ron hesitated. “Thanks, Percy.”

He’d be there, for both of them.

Chapter Text

Percy apprehensively entered the Minister’s office. His feet felt like lead as he dragged them across the marbled tiles. How did he get there? He couldn’t remember travelling to the Ministry. Pushing forward he knocked on a set of oak doors, which swung inwards at the touch.

Fudge was sitting on a throne-like chair behind his desk, identical to the one Dumbledore had in the Great Hall. Percy tried to stand up but found himself incapable of moving. Looking down, both his arms and legs were manacled to the floor in tight metal chains. A rush of fear, sharp and cold, took hold. He was trapped. 

“Let me go. I’ve done everything you asked,” demanded Percy. 

“Have you?” asked Fudge as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Please,” he begged, looking wildly around the room for an escape.

“Give me what I want.”

Percy licked his lips. There were so many secrets to spill…so many lives on the line…

“I can’t.”

When the Minister next opened his mouth, instead of words, a strange buzzing noise came out. It reminded him of something…or someone. The world around him darkened…he was alone…

Percy sat up in his bed, sheets tangled around his body, as he scrambled to grab his pocket watch. It was vibrating on the side table, buzzing against the wood. Someone was calling him. He flipped open the double-hunter lid and saw the smiling face of Jack Whittaker. 

“What time is it?” groaned Percy, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the morning light. 

“Just after seven,” said Jack. 

“Ugh.” He didn’t need to be up for another hour. “Couldn’t this have waited?”

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. I’ve got some news from the Taskforce if you’re interested?”

Percy sat up straight.

“You could’ve led with that. What is it? Has something happened?” he asked frantically. 

“Hold your horses,” calmed Jack. “It’s just a warning for your meeting tonight. I thought you’d prefer we talk before classes.”

Percy cut to the chase. “What’ve you heard?”

“It was Autumn actually who caught it first but the Minister has submitted another Educational Decree.” 

His stomach clenched. “What is it this time?”

Jack looked down and read off of a scroll. 

“Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three allows Hogwarts to be subjected to informal scrutiny by an approved Ministry member.”

“And let me guess, I’m that member?” assumed Percy.

“You got in one.”

“What exactly does that entail though? Informal scrutiny could mean a number of things.”

“Autumn says that it would allow you to thoroughly examine Hogwarts procedures, regulations, and even staff members.”

“Does he expect me to review teachers that’ve been working longer than I've been alive!?” stressed Percy. 

It was ridiculous. They’d laugh him out of the room. 

“I’m sure you’ll get all the details from Fudge,” said Jack. “Speaking of the Minister, are you ready for your meeting tonight?”

Truthfully he was quite worried but he didn’t want Jack to doubt his ability.

“I’ve taken notes all week in the journal he provided but omitted a few bits and pieces, nothing crucial, just enough to slow him down. I’m not sure what he’s looking for exactly. He hasn’t mentioned any plans to me, other than wanting eyes and ears at Hogwarts.”

“You’ve been checking your Foe-Glass daily?”

“Yes, there’s no enemies nearby, only a small bit of hostility coming from my brothers.”

“Check it before you attend, just in case,” directed Jack. 

“Will do,” he promised. “So, is there any more news on our Unspeakable? I haven’t had the chance to talk with Penelope about it.”

“No, he's still in a coma. I’ve got the Taskforce watching his room twenty-four hours a day, while I work on the case against Lucius Malfoy. It’d be great to get a witness testimony, without it there’s no probable cause to search his manor, and even less to press charges.” 

“And my father? Dumbledore said he unassigned him from guard duty.”

“Not just your father, but the rest of his group too. Whatever you said to him worked because they’re no longer watching the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.”

Dumbledore must’ve taken his advice and set a trap instead. Jack wouldn’t have triggered it because he wasn’t the target. 

“Good.”

There was a brief pause between them. He noticed that Jack was sitting inside his Auror cubicle, feet propped up on the desk, next to a mountain of paperwork. 

Jack grinned. “See something you like?”

Percy rolled his eyes. 

“What I see is someone who's procrastinating. How you get anything done with a mess like that is beyond me!” 

A bark of laughter erupted from Jack. “Touché.” 

“Is that everything? Can I go?” 

“Fine by me Mr Grumpy. Next time I’ll call once you’ve had your morning coffee.”

“Tea,” corrected Percy. “I prefer tea.”

“Duly noted.”

Percy waved goodbye before he snapped shut the pocket watch, ending the call. Any tiredness he felt was gone. He’d need a strong brew of tea for the day he had ahead. 

Friday morning started with the seventh-years. Percy had them split into pairs and continue working on their mind magic project. After their last lesson, all the students had borrowed supplementary texts from the library and had them laid out on the desks to research their topics. He went around the room, offering assistance and corrections to anyone that asked. 

Preece waved him over. He’d partnered with Stimpson and had chosen to study the Befuddlement Draught, an O.W.L. level potion. It caused the drinker to become belligerent and reckless by speeding up the workings of the brain. 

“Could you check our work?” asked Preece.

Percy quickly read over their research. 

“You’ve listed the right ingredients; scurvy grass, lovage, sneezewort, and frog brains, but don’t forget the method,” he pointed out. 

They’d also written down the physical effects (dizziness, nausea, headaches, and heart pain) and the short-term side effects (extreme agitation, paranoia, and aggression), but were struggling with the long-term consequences. 

“Think about the psychology of recklessness. What kind of dangerous or risky behaviours would a person engage in?” asked Percy.

Preece answered first. “How about legal issues? They could get themselves in trouble with the law. Pick a fight or hurt someone, that kind of thing,” he suggested. 

“Good. What else?”

“Bodily harm. They could injure themselves attempting a physical feat they couldn’t normally,” continued Preece.

“That’s right. Stimpson, anything to add?”

She thought for a moment, then blushed. “What about…unwanted pregnancies? If it’s a woman, they’re probably not being careful during intimate moments.” 

There’s nothing longer term than a child, mused Percy.

“You’re right. It's a big risk-taking behaviour. You could also research potion addiction. The Befuddlement Draught triggers the release of Dopamine, a chemical used in the reward system of the brain, which can cause an unhealthy dependency. I believe I have a case study on its properties.”

Percy pulled out a stack of Magical Maladies Case Journals and riffled through them, until he found the one he was looking for. 

“Here it is. Published in May nineteen eighty-eight entitled, The Treatment of Befuddlement Draught Addiction, by Patrica Paine.” 

He handed the issue to Preece.

“If anyone else is interested in case studies, I’ve got a stack of them on the table you can sort through,” Percy announced to the class. 

The students happily passed them around, looking for more information on their chosen topics. He made another round of the room and noticed that the twins hadn’t touched the journals nor any of the other material. However, they did have several library books strewn across their desk and a single sheet of parchment in the middle. George hunched over the paper, writing diligently, as Fred leafed through a tome. 

When he approached, they quickly covered their work before he could read it. 

“How’re things going over here?” asked Percy. 

“Swimmingly,” dead-panned Fred. 

“Uh huh.” Percy peeked at the book titles. None of them were related to Defence Against the Dark Arts. “Are you aware that these textbooks don’t have any information about Forgetfulness Potions? You know, your chosen topic?”

“Fancy that, I hadn’t noticed,” said George. “Did you know that Fred?”

“No, must’ve slipped my mind,” he cheekily answered. 

“I’ve got a couple of case studies if you’re interested. There’s one about the long-term repercussions from prolonged potion use and-”

“We’re good,” interrupted George.

They were up to something. The books they’d borrowed were on very particular topics, ranging from Ingestible Magical Plants by Herb Wayan to Spellcrafting Fundamentals by Adalyn Simmons. It could be homework for another subject but he somehow doubted that. 

“Just remember, you’ve only got until next week to finish researching before you present your findings to the class,” reminded Percy. 

The twins shrugged dismissively. From across the room, Roger Davies waved him over, requesting his assistance. Percy glanced one last time at their books, wondering what exactly they were researching, then walked away. He’d given them fair warning.  

The gentle hum of the late afternoon breeze came through the classroom window. Percy took a deep breath and concentrated on his final class of the day, a double with the fifth-years. They continued their lesson on counter-spells with the charm, Offero (oh-FARE-oh). It returned elements to their previous states. Each student had a large ice sphere on their desk, sitting in a glass bowl. They were tasked to transform it from solid to liquid. 

“Concentrate on its shape, see that it cannot freely move around,” described Percy. He levitated the ice in front of the class, so they could watch his demonstration. “Now envision the ice as water, how it takes the shape of the container it's in but still maintains its volume,” described Percy. 

“Offero,” he cast, melting the ice into water but keeping it floating in a tight liquid ball. The class took several notes. Then he cast “Glacius”, refreezing the water back into an ice sphere. He levitated it back into Neville’s glass bowl. 

“Now give it a try,” he directed them. 

Macmillan was the first to succeed, his sphere melted with a splash, releasing the water into the bowl sitting underneath. Hermione, not willing to be outshone, cast the charm less than a minute later. 

“Well done, Mr Macmillan, Miss Granger, have ten points each,” said Percy. 

He went around the room instructing each student. When he passed Ron’s desk, his brother hadn’t even taken out his wand. Instead, he fidgeted in his seat and watched the clock apprehensively.  

Percy tapped his shoulder. “Did you want to attempt the spell?”

Ron flinched at the touch, causing Harry to look worriedly at his friend.

“Oh, Percy, I didn’t see you," said Ron. Then he cleared his throat and cast, “Offero.” The ice remained solid. 

“Keep trying,” encouraged Percy. 

Ron peeked at the clock again. 

“It would help if you concentrated on the task at hand,” Percy gently pointed out. “A watched clock won’t tick.”

“Sorry,” Ron apologised. 

His brother’s face was drawn and pale, making his freckles appear darker. He gripped his wand tightly and then cast the counter-spell again, to no effect. 

“Listen, I can tell you’re distracted,” said Percy. He lowered his voice so only Ron could hear him. “You’re worried about the quidditch trials?” His brother nodded. “Think of it this way, there are only two possible outcomes: You get picked or you don’t.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” asked Ron. 

“If you try, you’ve got a chance, a good one, but you won’t make the team if you don’t believe in yourself.”

Ron wrung his hands together. “You’re right, but I'm really anxious. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“Being anxious doesn’t mean you can’t do it,” comforted Percy. “Even world-class quidditch players get nervous before a match.”

He’d listened to enough League Cup commentary to know. 

“Every athlete has a pregame ritual. Maybe you should find something that helps you focus. Like relaxing with music or how about a mantra?” suggested Percy. 

“Okay. A mantra doesn’t sound too bad,” agreed Ron. 

“That’s great! Listen, we’ve still got half an hour left, so why don’t you concentrate on your lesson in the meantime.”

For the remainder of class, Percy helped the fifth-years cast Offero, including Ron who had calmed down considerably. When the bell rang, he and the rest of the students grabbed their bags and walked down the stairs. He followed them out onto the stadium, where Madam Hooch stood waiting with Angelina Johnson. Ron, despite his nerves, looked hopeful and chanted, “I can do this…I can do this,” under his breath. 

The afternoon sun baked them in summer warmth as they made their way onto the stands. Percy sat at the front next to Hermione, giving him a clear view of the entire field. Madam Hooch nodded at his presence and then unlocked the Quidditch equipment. He noticed that all of the previous Gryffindor team had attended, including Fred and George, Katie Bell, Alica Spinnet, and of course Harry. Angelina brought them into a close huddle and said something he couldn’t hear. 

“Are you here to support Ron?” asked Hermione. 

“And Ginny. She’s hoping to join as a Chaser.” 

Percy waved, as his sister entered the pitch. Ginny, as well as twenty other Gryffindors, were milling about on the sidelines, ready to try out. A couple of first-years climbed the stands and joined the spectators near Percy. 

“Good afternoon, Professor Weasley,” said Cato in good spirits. She was the girl they’d found wandering the corridors Tuesday night. 

“Miss Cato, Mr Wyatt. Have you come here to watch the Quidditch trials?”

“Yeah, Euan wants to join. He says he’s been flying since he was three-years-old,” bragged Wyatt on Euan’s behalf. 

Percy watched the boy nervously clutch a school broom in his hands, a couple of twigs stuck out in odd places. He wouldn’t be allowed to bring his own broom unless he made the team. 

“Well, good luck to him. There’s some stiff competition out there,” said Percy. 

It was almost time. The last few Gryffindors took a seat as Angelina called the candidates forward. Then from the corner of his eye, Percy spotted three familiar-looking Slytherins sneak their way onto the pitch. Malfoy, shouldered by Crabbe and Goyle, intended to watch the trials. 

Percy stood up and briskly walked over to the boys. “This is a closed tryout. Gryffindors only.”

None of them had expected a teacher to be present. 

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” complained Malfoy. He seemed dismayed that Percy had caught them so quickly. 

“That’s besides the point. Whether you intend to watch quietly or not, you can’t be here.” 

Malfoy stood up and shoved past Crabbe, who grunted at the rough push. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow for your detention, Mr Malfoy. Remember, nine o’clock sharp,” said Percy curtly. 

“Yes, sir.”

Once they’d left, Percy turned around to a rather amused audience. 

Angelina hollered over the field, “Thanks, Professor!” 

Ron and Harry shared a grin, as the other players whispered about Malfoy’s intrusion. Percy quickly returned to his seat. Then Madam Hooch blew her whistle, directing all attention onto her.

“Johnson, take it from here. We don’t have all day,” she demanded. 

“Right, you lot,” Angelina pointed to the front row of students, including Ginny. “Get on your brooms and into the sky. I want to see your flying skills.”

She timed how long it took each student to lap the pitch, then recorded it on a clipboard. Ginny rocketed into the air and easily led the pack with the fastest time. Most of the candidates were decent flyers, even Euan had flown well considering his broom. Finally, Harry and the previous Gryffindor team took to the sky. There was a clear discrepancy between an experienced flyer and those who only flew recreationally. 

“Everyone split into groups of four,” called Angelina. “Three of you will be passing a Quaffle to each other, while a player in the middle attempts to intercept it.”

She made the more experienced players be the interceptors. Percy kept his attention split between his siblings.

In the first group, Ginny was paired with Demelza Robins and Fran Fredericks, two other fourth-year girls. They communicated well with each other and used a variety of tactics. Ginny created openings by feigning passes, which allowed the others to get into better catching positions. However, on the odd occasion the interceptor caught the Quaffle, it was caused by Fredericks poor aim. 

On the opposite side of the pitch was Ron’s group. Together he, along with Jimmy Peakes and Vicky Frobisher, faced Alicia as the interceptor. She made it very difficult for them, aggressively blocking their moves and applying a lot of defensive pressure. Thankfully Ron kept his cool and caught the Quaffle each time but his other two team members weren’t as lucky. 

After fifteen minutes, Angelina got the students to land and then read a list of names off her clipboard. These were the candidates moving onto the next round. Most of the third and second-years, and all of the first-years including Euan, were rejected. They sadly joined the stands to watch the rest of the trial. 

The next twenty minutes Angelina had two teams of seven play against each other in a mock game and made them exchange positions when required. Ron and Ginny happened to be on the same team, with him as Keeper and her as one of three Chasers. He watched as they tried their hardest to impress Angelina. Ginny scored six out of nine goals, whilst Ron had saved every shot but one.

Percy flipped open his pocket watch and saw that he only had seventeen minutes remaining before his meeting with the Minister. He leant over and spoke quietly to Hermione. 

“Please give Ginny and Ron my apologies but I have to go.” 

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Are you sure you can’t stay Professor? I think Angelina is going to announce the team soon.”

“I’m sure.” 

He gazed up at his siblings and silently wished them luck, then broke into a fast-paced jog out of the stadium. His office was on the third floor, at the far end of the corridor. By the time he’d unlocked the door, he was breathing heavily and had a nasty stitch in his side. 

Percy wrenched open his desk drawer, stuffing the leather-bound journal into his satchel and then threw a handful of Floo Powder into his pre-lit fireplace. The fire burst into emerald-green flames. 

He ran into the bathroom and let the water run for a moment, before wetting his face and neck to cool down. Then he grabbed a hairbrush and quickly tidied his hair. 

“You might want to straighten your shirt, dear,” said the mirror. 

It was enchanted to offer advice on his appearance. Every bathroom in Hogwarts had one. 

“Thanks.” 

Percy tucked in his shirt and smoothed out the creases, forgoing his typical overcoat. It was the best he could do with a limited amount of time. 

Back in his office, he loudly stated “Ministry of Magic”, then stepped into the flames. Colours swirled around him, before his vision cleared and he found himself in the Atrium, with its sparkling fountain and golden lifts. Most of the workers had already gone home for the day, ready to spend their weekend with friends and family. 

His stomach dropped. In the rush, he’d forgotten to check his Foe-Glass for any danger. He opened his pocket watch; four minutes remained. There wasn’t enough time to double back. 

Across from him, a couple of Hit Wizards exited from a lift.

“Hold the door please!” he called out to them.

They kindly held the grilles open and he descended down to Level One. 

Percy politely knocked on a set of oak doors that led to the Minister’s Office. They swung open, giving him an awful sense of deja vu. 

“Come in,” called a voice. 

Fudge was waiting for him behind a mahogany desk. The enchanted ceiling-high window displayed torrential rainfall, a stark contrast to the warm summer evening outside. Percy took a seat on one of the velvet armchairs and rested his satchel on his lap. He pulled out his journal and placed it cover-up on the table. 

“I see you’ve come prepared,” said Fudge. “If you don’t mind…” He grabbed the journal and read through its entries. 

Percy had written about the staff meeting, Hagrids absence from Care of Magical Creatures, the general student consensus, and his interactions with Harry inside the classroom.

“This is good…very good…” muttered Fudge as he read.

Percy patiently waited for him to finish. He kept his head low and fidgeted with the strap of his satchel, listening to the sound of pages turning. After what seemed like eternity, the Minister closed the journal.

“So, Dumbledore’s right-hand man is missing. Where is the great oaf?” asked Fudge. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Percy. “None of the staff seem to know either or at least won’t tell me. Dumbledore has been very tight-lipped about the whole ordeal.”

In his personal opinion, he believed that Hagrid was away on Order business. Doing what? Probably something dangerous. 

“As soon as he gets back let me know.” Fudge flipped the pages forward to another entry. “You’ve written that the students are split when it comes to Potter. What’ve they been saying?”

“Most are avid readers of the Daily Prophet and believe Potter’s a liar or deranged. He does have a few supporters though, mainly his friends.”

Percy tried to minimise the numbers to make it seem like the majority were against Harry and Dumbledore, but the split was actually pretty even. He didn’t want the Minister to target specific people. 

“Any prominent families?”

“None, that I can tell,” he lied. 

Fudge gazed at him over the journal but Percy kept a deceptively blank face. “Try to engage with the students more. Get them talking. I need to know who believes him.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

“And how’s it coming along with Potter? I heard there was an incident with the Malfoy boy.”

True to his word, Lucius had spoken with the Minister. He wondered how that conversation went. Would Fudge have told him his plans on using Percy as a spy? 

“It’s a gradual process. Potter is very slow to trust. He won’t speak to me unless he believes I'm unequivocally on his side.” Percy licked his chapped lips. He wished he’d brought some water with him. 

“So did your little show work? Does he believe you’re his friend?” The Minister leaned over his desk with an air of eagerness. 

“He saw me punish Malfoy, his school rival, but I'll need to do more than that before he opens up.”

The longer he could prolong giving him information, the better. 

“Do whatever you need to do to gain his trust. Don’t worry about Lucius, I’ll deal with his complaints.” Fudge handed back the journal. “It’s imperative to understand what’s on that boy's mind.”

“Understood.”

The Minister opened his top drawer and pulled out a folder. Percy’s stomach dropped. He was reminded of the blackmail folder Umbridge had given him all those months ago. 

“Now, Percy, I’ve got an additional task for you. I’ve submitted an Educational Decree. This one would allow you to openly investigate the school and its staff. Your findings will be presented to the Board of Governors, who’ll take any recommendations you give.”

His jaw tightened. The Board of Governors were made up of twelve witches and wizards, who oversaw the running of Hogwarts. They had the power to bypass the Headmaster and suspend staff. If Fudge trusted them to follow his advice, it meant they were likely in the Minister’s pocket. 

“There are three teachers you’ll need to target; Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Rubeus Hagrid once he returns. They’re all clearly Dumbledore supporters and I won’t have them spreading any of his nonsense to the students.”

Percy couldn’t believe it. The Minister had picked the only staff members that were actively a part of the Order. Did he know more than he led on?

“Surely the Board would notice if I reported a once competent teacher as substandard,” advised Percy. 

Fudge frowned. “Yes, that will be an issue. You’ll need to be meticulous and ensure your review cannot be countered. Make a note of every mistake, every time they’re late, anything that’ll be a blight on their record.”

“What about the rest of the staff?” he asked. 

“Use your discretion when handling them. I’ll let you decide if they’re worth keeping or not.”

At least he could protect the rest of the teachers. The gears turned in his head; Could he stall the reviews? Would the Minister catch on if he omitted information?

Percy asked his next few questions with resolve. “Okay. When do you want the final reports?” 

“Before the end of term. Review their classes, gather evidence. Once you’re confident you’ve got enough to prove they’re incompetent, I’ll book with the Board,” explained Fudge. 

He had approximately two months. 

“What if they don’t make a mistake?”

Fudge sighed. “We can’t allow them to contest it. There are rules that need to be followed. The public will be watching.” 

Reputation was important to the Minister. He controlled every aspect of the media. The Daily Prophet wouldn’t print an article without his approval and the Wireless Wizarding Network was partially funded by the Ministry. Only the smaller independent companies had free rein but they barely had an audience. 

If Fudge needed to keep up appearances then it was something Percy could exploit.

“I won’t let you down. Every teacher will be reviewed, whether they’re ready or not. Nothing will get past me.” 

But there’s no guarantee it’ll get to you.

Chapter Text

Percy rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to clear the tiredness from them. After he’d gotten back from the Ministry, he contacted Jack and relayed everything Fudge had said. They stayed up late into the night, discussing the different strategies Percy could use to ruin the Minister’s plans. By the time the call ended, he was exhausted. 

Despite how he felt, Percy tried his hardest to stay awake to finish marking the fifth-year essays. His eyes blurred as he struggled to read the words on the page. Dragging himself away from his office, he decided to finish it on Saturday, unable to resist the temptation of sleep. When he woke the next morning, he felt disappointed in himself as he’d have to spend a good chunk of the weekend catching up on his work. It was a shame, he would have to break the promise he made to Penelope.

Percy grabbed a Diricawl quill, one of the ones gifted to him from his sister, and wrote a quick apology letter to his girlfriend:

Dear Penelope,

I hope you’re well. I’ve completed my first week at Hogwarts and have a lot to tell you. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to come over to yours this weekend, so I was hoping to Floo call you instead. Please meet me by the fireplace at two o’clock this afternoon.

Talk soon, Percy. 

He put down his quill and sighed. Penelope would understand, she always did. They were both career oriented people. It was one of the things he most admired about her, how focused and dedicated she was to her craft. He tapped the letter with his wand and it rolled up into a tight scroll. There was just enough time to visit the Owlery before breakfast and get it delivered. 

The castle was quiet as he strolled through the hallways as most of the students had slept in late. When he reached the bottom of the West Tower, a portrait of a lady-in-waiting waved him over. She was wearing a green velvet court gown, depicting a higher social status. 

“Oh, Professor, you ought to know but a student is currently occupying the Owlery,” she said with a posh English accent.

“Thanks.”

Percy had found that the portraits often warned teachers about the students. Almost every wall was adorned with a painting, so unless its occupants were sleeping or otherwise preoccupied, they offered a helping hand. It was especially useful during night duty, when they directed him towards pupils out of bed.

He climbed the circular stone staircase, relishing the cold breeze that blew through the windows. At the top of the tower was a large room filled with delivery birds of all shapes and sizes. The portrait was correct, he wasn’t alone. On the far side of the Owlery stood a red-haired student, who was attempting (unsuccessfully) to attach a letter to a tiny Scops owl. 

“Ron?” he asked. His brother turned around in surprise but smiled once he saw it was Percy. “What’re you doing here so early?”

It was difficult to imagine Ron had chosen to wake up before noon, especially on a Saturday morning. 

Ron beamed proudly at himself. “You just so happen to be looking at Gryffindor’s newest Keeper!” He tried to grab hold of Pigwidgeon. “I’m sending a letter to tell Mum and Dad.”

“Congratulations! You’ll be a wonderful addition to the team.” Percy smiled. He was immensely proud of his younger brother. 

“Thanks Percy and I uh, appreciate the advice you gave me yesterday. It really helped but where’d you disappear to? Hermione said you left early.”

“Listen, I’m sorry for not watching your tryout to the end, but from what I saw you performed amazingly.” He avoided his brother’s question altogether. “How did Ginny fare?”

His brother scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “It was a tough call but Angelina kept herself, Alica Spinnet, and Katie Bell as Chasers, with Ginny as a close second. They made her a reserve. So, she can still train with us and substitute if required during the games.”

“I guess she’s feeling a little disappointed?” asked Percy

Ron snorted. “A little is an understatement. She insinuated that Angelina only picked them because they’re her friends.”

“She didn’t say this to her face did she?” grimaced Percy. 

“No, but she’s been telling all the other fourth-years. If she isn’t careful, she’ll lose her position altogether.”

“I’ll have a chat with her.”

He could understand Ginny’s disappointment but she shouldn’t take it out on others. It wasn’t fair to assume Angelina chose the way she did because of favouritism. Maybe she wanted players that already flew well together or were more experienced on the field? He’d seen Alica and Katie fly that day, they probably just outperformed her, if only marginally. 

Percy retrieved his letter from his overcoat and called for Hermes. A grey Screech owl flew down from the top rafters and landed on his outstretched arm. Hermes trilled softly and let Percy pet the top of his beak. 

“I’ve got a letter for Penelope. If you could give her your best apologetic look, I'd appreciate it,” he instructed him. 

Hermes hooted once and then took the letter in its talons, flying out of the Owlery in an impressive show of aerial acrobatics. 

“Your owl’s a bit of a show off, don’t you think?” said Ron, who was still struggling to tie his letter to Pigwidgeon. 

“Every owl is different. Hermes doesn’t need any coaxing to deliver a letter. Yours however, may need a little extra encouragement.”

Percy grabbed an owl treat from his satchel and held it in his open hand. Pigwidgeon landed in his palm and sat still, just long enough for Ron to tie the letter to his leg. 

“Finally! Pig, take this to Mum.”

The Scops owl zoomed around the tower twice before flying out one of the windows. 

“How’d you know that would work?” asked Ron.

“Trial and error. Plus, I didn’t always have Hermes. Before my fifth-year, I used the Hogwarts postal owls just like everyone else. They weren’t always the most cooperative of birds.”

Percy watched as both Hermes and Pigwidgeon disappeared into the horizon. 

“Are you coming to breakfast? Ginny may be there,” said Ron. 

“Lead the way.”

In the Great Hall, Ron split off to join the Gryffindor table, whilst Percy sat with his colleagues. Most of the students slowly rolled in for a rather slow start to the day. He didn’t see Ginny at all.

As he ate breakfast, he caught the end of a rather interesting conversation.

“...it’s a shame about McLaggen. He’ll be bedridden for the rest of the week,” said Professor McGonagall. She was gossiping about one of her Gryffindors, a topic that came up more frequently than he would’ve thought. 

“Yes, well, he’d be out sooner if he admitted to what he actually ate. Students don’t have any common sense these days,” replied Professor Sprout, waving her fork in the air to articulate her point. 

“I was wondering where he’d wandered off to,” added Percy. “He didn’t show up to class yesterday. When I asked, none of the other sixth-years knew where he was.”

“That’s no surprise,” frowned Professor McGonagall. “He’s been very tight-lipped about the whole ordeal. We believe he’s eaten something he shouldn’t have.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell Poppy?” asked Percy. “She’s bound to patient confidentiality.” He’d seen the oath Penelope had taken when she began her Healing internship. It’d be the same for Madam Pomfrey. 

Professor Sprout cut in. “Our students are very predictable. They either don’t want to get in trouble for breaking a rule, they’ve smuggled in a banned item, or they’re covering for another student.” She smiled before adding, “It’s usually a bit of all three.”

His stomach felt uneasy. There was something not quite right about the situation. 

“Did he say if anyone else was involved?” questioned Percy. 

“No, but he was dragged up to the Hospital Wing sometime Friday morning. Whoever it was left in quite a hurry. None of the portraits saw anything either, so they’d taken a less-travelled corridor,” explained Professor McGonagall. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t caused by a fight?” asked Percy. 

“Very sure. I’ve spoken to Poppy and she assures me his illness is caused by consuming something harmful. When I spoke to McLaggen, he admitted that he ate something the previous night but refused to tell me what.” 

Percy stared at his plate as he reflected on this information. 

One: McLaggen was left by the Hospital Wing after having a bad reaction.

Two: The person who brought him in didn’t stick around.

Three: None of McLaggen’s classmates knew what happened or at least feigned ignorance. 

This mysterious person hadn’t wanted to be seen, which meant they were probably involved in him eating…whatever it was. They also had explored the castle enough to know how to avoid the portraits. Since it occurred on Thursday night, presumably after curfew, it most likely happened in the Gryffindor common room. So, a fellow housemate was the culprit. 

His mind immediately went to the twins. 

They’d been quiet yesterday, diligently working on whatever secret project they’d hidden from him. He remembered the specific books they’d strewn across the desk. One of them was about ingestible magical plants. Could they have given something to McLaggen? 

The unpleasant feeling grew in his stomach. 

“Can I…speak with him?” asked Percy. “I know you’re his Head of House, Minerva, but perhaps he’d share more with me?” 

She peered over her spectacles to sternly look at him. Percy didn’t flinch but instead returned the gaze earnestly. “Be my guest,” she said. “I’d certainly like to know who’s responsible. Let me know if he admits to anything.”

If the twins were involved, he wouldn't go easy on them. Their intention, whether it was to prank or to harm the sixth-year, didn’t matter. McLaggen still got hurt and that was unacceptable. 

Back in his office, Percy sat at his desk waiting for Malfoy to arrive. His detention would start at nine o’clock sharp. Whilst waiting, the house-elves brought up a pot of freshly brewed tea, a mix of cinnamon and hawthorn, and left it on the table to steep. He’d barely gotten halfway through one of the fifth-year essays, before Percy noticed a figure approaching via his Foe-Glass. Malfoy wasn’t an enemy, per se, but more of a person who deeply disliked him. It was the same reason he could see the twins. The outline in the mirror got sharper the closer Malfoy approached, until he could clearly see the annoyed expression on his face.

Percy flicked his wand at his office door, causing it to open. The unexpected bang startled Malfoy, who had barely raised a hand to knock. 

“Come in, Mr Malfoy. Take a seat.”

He’d set up one of the classroom desks in the corner, its back firmly pressed against the window. Malfoy grumbled under his breath but refrained from making a snide comment. Percy knew that he’d spoken to his father, who had in turn, spoken to the Minister. Yet, there he was, still serving detention with the teacher he’d threatened to get replaced. 

“Did you bring a quill and ink, like I requested?” asked Percy.

Malfoy nodded and then reached into his bookbag, pulling out both and setting them on the table.

“Will I be writing lines?” drawled Malfoy, pretending to be unbothered. 

“No, you’ll be writing me an essay.”

Percy slid a yellow hardcover book, entitled “The Prefect Handbook”, onto the desk, as well as several blank parchment sheets. He knew that Malfoy had received his own copy at the start of the year, as did every other fifth-year Prefect. It contained all the rules, regulations, and responsibilities they were expected to follow. Malfoy frowned down at it. He wondered if the Slytherin had even opened his copy, before joining him today. 

“Prefects must adhere to the school rules and regulations at all times. You’ll be using the handbook to write which ones you broke when you threatened Mr Potter and how you should’ve handled the situation. Bring it to my desk once you’re finished.”

“Yes, sir.”

Malfoy cracked open the handbook and flipped its pages randomly, barely registering the words. He grabbed a sheet of parchment paper and began to hastily write down passages. 

Percy turned his attention back to his own essays. He’d tasked the fifth-years with explaining the differences between counter-charms and untransfigurations. Some had excelled, like Hermione and Macmillan, who’d both written more than the required ten inches, whilst others had clearly struggled. Goyle’s pitiable attempt at writing had Percy pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. The paper was covered in red ink as he circled each misspelt word and poorly constructed sentence. How the boy had passed his exams last year was anybody's guess. At the top of the page, he wrote the word “Troll”, giving him the worst possible grade. 

Barely twenty minutes had passed before the sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor caught his attention. Malfoy stood up and handed him a single page. 

“I’ll have a read, shall I?” said Percy, as he adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses.

The essay was sloppy, hastily scribbled, and barely covered what was asked of him. 

“No, this won’t do. You’ll need to write it again.”

He handed it back to Malfoy who didn’t make a move to grab it.

“Again!? But I wrote what you wanted,” spoke Malfoy through gritted teeth, barely containing his anger. His father must’ve asked him not to cause a fuss after learning that Percy was there to stay. 

“Yes, again. I’ve seen your essays, Mr Malfoy, I’ve only just marked yours this morning, so I know what you’re capable of and this…” He shook the parchment paper in his hand. “...isn’t good enough.”

Malfoy snatched it back and sat down with a thump. He angrily unbottled his ink and took out a fresh piece of parchment paper. No matter how long it took, Malfoy wouldn’t leave until he’d written a proper essay. He was here to learn a lesson after all.

Percy picked up the next essay and continued marking. The sun rose higher into the sky as the day wore on. A few more papers joined the finished pile. Ron received an Exceeds Expectations (well written but he mixed up a counter-charm with a curse), Harry got an Outstanding (his grasp of defensive magic was impressive), and Crabbe was given a Troll (there were so many mistakes that it looked like he’d dipped the paper in red ink). 

There was another shuffle and Malfoy had approached his desk again, paper in hands. Percy slowly read through the essay and used his quill to correct any mistakes.

“Better. I can see you’ve thoroughly gone through The Prefect Handbook this time. Please correct the circled mistakes and then bring it back up,” said Percy. 

Malfoy didn’t complain, he didn’t whine or grumble or make any other comment. Instead he took the paper back to the desk and rewrote the areas that needed fixing. Percy raised a brow. Had he actually learnt a lesson?

The bell for lunch tolled just as Malfoy handed the final version back over to Percy. 

“Hmmm,” said Percy as he read. “It’s acceptable. I hope you’ve grasped the importance of following all the rules and regulations laid out before you. Remember, you’re expected to lead by example.” He gave the paper back to him. “Keep it. I hope you’ll behave more accordingly from now on.”

“May I leave now, Professor?”

Percy nodded, then watched Malfoy grab his bag and storm off. It’d been three hours of detention served, more than enough time for the punishment to sink in. Once Malfoy had disappeared from the Foe-Glass, Percy stretched his back, feeling his weight shift in the armchair. His legs had started to cramp from sitting in the same position too long. 

He elected to stay up in his office for lunch, so he could continue marking essays. The house-elves silently popped in, removed his empty teapot, then replaced it with a fresh brew and an assortment of finger sandwiches. He was thankful for their thoughtfulness. 

The hours slipped away from him as he continued to work, until it reached mid afternoon. Percy threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fire, spoke the address, then put his head into the emerald-green flames, letting the colours swirl around him. It transported him to a quaint loungeroom, where Penelope sat quietly working on an assignment. Scattered across the two-seater sofa were an array of notes and healing books for an assignment. Percy cleared his throat, causing her to look up with a jump.

“Oh, Percy! It’s two already?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important?” he asked, smiling gently.

“It’s fine. I should probably take a break anyway.”

She picked up the papers and shuffled them into a neat stack.

“Have you had lunch yet or is that also on the to-do list?” teased Percy. 

“Oh, ha ha,” she sarcastically laughed. “I should be asking you the same thing, as it seems you’re too busy to visit your girlfriend.”

Percy outwardly cringed. He should’ve known she’d be a little bit annoyed with him. “Yeah, it’s been more difficult than I anticipated balancing my teaching responsibilities. The Minister has also added more to my plate and now I have to prepare performance reviews for the staff.”

“I wasn’t blaming you Perce,” interjected Penelope. “I know it’ll take a while to settle into things.” They shared a soft glance. “So, tell me about your week. How has Hogwarts been?”

Percy explained in detail about the Welcoming Feast, his lessons, the students, the professors, and how his siblings reacted to his teaching. Penelope carefully listened, asking a question every so often to fill in the gaps. He’d just finished telling her about the Quidditch trials, when he brought up his suspicion about the twins.

“...so I think they’re involved in McLaggen’s hospital visit.”

“You’ll need to be careful how you approach this Percy,” stressed Penelope. “If the twins aren’t involved, you’ll be accusing them without any proof, and if they are involved, they could get into more trouble than just a detention. Remember they’re seventeen now, officially classed as adults in the wizarding world.”

“I know that but I don’t think they do. I’ve never seen them acknowledge the consequences to any of the stunts they pull. I’m worried that this time they’ve gone too far.”

He looked away, feeling a wave of resentment wash over him. The twins, despite their playful demeanour, were quite vindictive. They’d never ever apologised or even felt remorse for the pranks they’d played on him over the years. Some of the stuff they did couldn’t even be counted as a joke, especially the ones designed to embarrass. Had that happened with McLaggen? Was he another victim of a prank or was this something else entirely?

“Anyway, McLaggen might not even talk to me. I plan on visiting him after our call,” said Percy. 

“You were both housemates at one point, right? He’s, what, three or four years younger than you? Maybe try to relate with him,” suggested Penelope. 

“I can certainly try.”

Eventually the conversation drifted onto Penelope’s work, as she updated him on the stable condition of the Unspeakable and the overreaction of her supervisor, Mildred.  

“...she wasn’t happy when the Aurors got involved. Jack probably mentioned to you that our patient is being guarded around the clock. When they were first stationed there, Mildred flew into a fit, then directly complained to the Head of DMLE. I don’t know what was said but she’s been in a foul mood ever since.”

Penelope often complained about Mildred, who was in charge of the Healer trainee program. To him, she sounded like a tyrant, expecting perfection and quick to anger when things didn’t go her way. 

“She’s got serious control issues,” said Percy. 

“Tell me about it,” complained Penelope. “I’m stuck with her for another three years!” She laid down on the sofa and hugged one of her pillows. “You know Steph? One of the girls who started with me. Well, she actually dropped out this year because of her. Mildred was on her ass about every little thing until she just snapped. Poor girl just couldn’t catch a break.”

“I don’t know how you and the other trainees put up with her.”

Percy thought he’d had it bad enough dealing with Fudge but at least he had respite at Hogwarts. Penelope on the other hand was under Mildred’s watch the entire time. 

“She’s been at St Mungos for like thirty years and last year during our charity fundraiser, I saw her and the Minister together. I think they’re friends or at least connected in some way. She’s untouchable and any mistakes she makes gets swept under the rug. It’s infuriating,” bemoaned Penelope. 

“Unfortunately those types tend to stick together, so it doesn’t surprise me that she gets along with Fudge.”

Penelope rolled onto her side, then casually checked her watch. 

“Hey, it's getting pretty late. You should probably go check on McLaggen before it gets dark and I should get back to my studies. Thanks for the distraction.” She smiled brightly at him. “Let me know if you’re able to visit next week, if not, it's no big deal. As you said, you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

Percy pulled his head back, letting the colours engulf him, until he reappeared back in his office. He was lucky to have such an understanding girlfriend. 

It was late in the afternoon when Percy made his way down to the Hospital Wing. He slowly walked along the corridor, carefully inspecting the walls as he passed them. They were adorned with several mediaeval portraits, depicting knights on horses and ancient healers. Near the end of the corridor was a red curtain covering an out of the way stairwell. He threw them open and looked up at the stairs. No paintings, which meant no witnesses. 

He knocked on the double doors, waiting for the matron to answer. 

“Percy, I was expecting you here sooner,” answered Madam Pomfey. “Minerva mentioned that you wanted to talk to McLaggen.” 

She opened one of the doors for him, letting him walk into the large room. 

“He’s currently resting on the far right bed.” Madam Pomfey pointed towards the privacy screens at the back of the room, which shielded McLaggen from sight.

“Thanks, Poppy. I won’t be long.”

Percy peeked around the screens and saw the sixth-year laying in a pristine white bed, with a kidney-shaped basin tucked next to him. His face was tinged a sickly green and he had a sheen of sweat across his forehead. 

“Good afternoon, Mr McLaggen. How’re you feeling?” asked Percy. 

“Could be better,” he groaned. “Madam Pomfrey says the nausea will eventually go away.”

Percy dragged a visitor chair over to the bed and took a seat. “You know, if you told her exactly what you ate, she’d be able to heal you quicker.”

McLaggen frowned. “I don’t-” He bent over clutching his stomach in pain. “Urg, I don’t know what I ate.”

“I know Professor McGonagall has already spoken to you. She’s convinced that you were given something by another student.”

“Does she now?” said McLaggen as he clutched the basin with both arms. 

“You’re doing more harm to yourself by protecting them.” 

“That’s not-” McLaggen never finished his sentence, as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the basin. He groaned in pain. 

Percy lifted his wand to vanish the mess, letting McLaggen settle back into the sheets. 

“I know you think you’re being a good housemate right now, but if they’ve handed out more of whatever it is, then you’re allowing other students to get hurt.”

McLaggen looked affronted. “It’s not like that. I don’t…why do you think it’s a Gryffindor anyway?”

“Isn’t it?” Percy pointedly looked at him. 

McLaggen turned away. “Whatever.”

His suspicions were confirmed. 

“Listen, how about we make a deal?” suggested Percy. “I know you don’t want to get into trouble, so if you speak truthfully, I promise you won’t be punished.” He looked down at him in sympathy. “You’ve suffered enough.”

The sixth-year thought for a moment, considering the deal. 

“And you’re sure it won’t get back to Gryffindor that I blabbed?”

“I’ll be very discreet, your name won’t be mentioned,” assured Percy. 

“Okay,” breathed McLaggen. “It’s true that I was given something to eat by another student but I don’t have a clue what it contained.”

“Was it…the Weasley twins?” asked Percy. His heartbeat quickened. 

McLaggen pursued his lips. “Yes…but you didn’t hear it from me. They asked for testers for some kind of snack they’ve made. I have the flyer in my bag.”

Percy picked up McLaggen’s bookbag, which sat slumped against the bedside table. He riffled through it until he found a large handwritten sign. It read “Gallons of Galleons!” and offered a small wage for a part-time job orchestrated by Fred and George. At the bottom was a barely legible clause stating, “We regret that all work is undertaken at the applicant's own risk”. Percy pushed down the bubbling anger he felt in the pit of his stomach and pocketed the flyer. 

“Thank you for doing the right thing,” said Percy. 

“You’re not going to tell Professor McGonagall, right?” asked McLaggen, his brows furrowed together in worry. 

“I promised you wouldn’t get in trouble and you won’t. Now, get some rest. I’ll deal with this.”

He closed the privacy screens and walked back over to Madam Pomfrey, who was readying a potion. 

“Did you find out what he ate?” she asked.

“No, but I think he may need another potion sooner rather than later. He’s not looking too great.”

Madam Pomfrey sharply nodded before attending to McLaggen, who groaned in pain. Percy used the opportunity to leave the Hospital Wing. Once the double doors closed shut behind him, he let the simmering anger boil over. His brothers were idiots…dangerous idiots.  

They had purposely tested their products on students…on children. McLaggen wasn’t of age, he was only sixteen-years-old. Who knew how many others had consumed their products and had unexpected reactions? McLaggen mentioned that he hadn’t known what he’d eaten, which meant that the twins failed to disclose the ingredients. What if it contained something he was allergic to? They could’ve easily killed him. 

Percy stormed down the corridor, ignoring the wary looks from the portraits. His magic swirled inside him, a vortex of unbridled fury, ready to lash out. He took a deep breath, needing to keep a clear head, as he walked towards Gryffindor Tower. The twins would not be allowed to continue. It’s one thing to test products on themselves, but to rope in other students, especially children, was pushing it too far. 

Now it was left to him to clean up their mess.

Chapter Text

Percy stormed up the stairs, two at a time, towards Gryffindor Tower with the twins’ flyer clenched tightly in his hand. He’d just spoken to McLaggen, who’d been hospitalised for consuming one of their products. In the back of his mind, he knew the issue should be brought to Professor McGonagall. She was their Head of House and ultimately in charge of such disputes, but right then none of that mattered. They’d hurt someone and there were no excuses. 

It was nearing nightfall as he climbed the spiralling staircase. The setting sun bathed the castle in a beautiful golden glow. Students stepped out of his way as he passed, giving him a wide berth. They could sense the anger rippling off of him in waves. 

He quickly reached the entrance to Gryffindor and found himself in front of the portrait door. The Fat Lady raised a single brow at his stormy expression but didn’t mention anything. She patiently waited for the password. 

“Mimbulus Mimbletonia”, he spat, wincing at the harsh tone of his voice. He’d been pushing his emotions down for so long, that it was getting harder to mask his frustration.

The portrait door swung open, allowing him access into the common room. Inside was the landing, where he was greeted by a large painting of a lion sitting above the fireplace mantle. The students lazily milled about, enjoying their Saturday night. Some sat in plush armchairs reading or chatting, whilst others huddled together on tables playing a game of Gobstones. He glared around the room, searching for a distinct pair of red-heads. 

Ginny noticed her older brother almost immediately and approached him cautiously. She could tell that something was wrong. 

“Are you alright, Percy?”

“Peachy,” he snapped. 

Ginny took a step back in surprise. Percy almost never raised his voice at her. 

“Sorry, you didn’t deserve that,” he apologised. “I’m just looking for the twins. Do you know where they are?” he asked in a gentler tone, trying to reign in his temper. 

“Yeah, they’re upstairs in the dormitories. Why? What’ve they done?” 

He didn’t answer her question. “Thanks. We’ll talk later.”

A few more students had noticed his presence and began to whisper amongst themselves. It wasn’t often that a teacher visited their common room, not unless it was their Head of House. 

Percy left Ginny behind in the common room and climbed a stairwell to the left, which led him up into the boys dormitories. His brothers slept at the very top with the rest of the seventh-years. Their door was slightly ajar when he arrived and he could see that there were at least ten people inside the room. 

“...it's not dangerous. Now, do you want the Galleon or not?” George, or maybe Fred, said. It was hard to tell. 

“Fine, give it here then,” answered a younger sounding voice.

Percy pushed the door open and saw eight students, a mixture of first and second-years, grab what looked to be nougat from the twins' open hands. 

“Put that down!” shouted Percy. 

They dropped the confectionery in shock, whipping their heads around to look at him. He’d unintentionally frightened the younger students. 

“Out now,” he demanded. 

All the boys quickly ran out of the room. The twins tried to escape as well but Percy blocked their exit.

“Not you two. I’d like a word.”

He closed the door and crossed his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at them. They’d just tried to give their products to eleven and twelve-year-olds. 

“What do you want?” said George, as he picked the nougat off the floor. 

Percy unravelled the flyer and held it out. The twins paled.

“Where’d you get that?” asked George.

“I bet it was Hermione. She’s been nosing around our business since the start of term,” said Fred. 

“It doesn’t matter how I know but just what were you two thinking!?” Percy stalked forward, shoving the poster in their faces. “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

“We’re not dumb!” spat Fred, quickly angering at the accusation. “Everything we’ve made has been tested on ourselves first.”

Percy flicked his wand and summoned a piece of the nougat into his hand. It was honey-yellow and covered with pieces of nuts. 

“What exactly is this?” he asked. “What’s it supposed to do?”

“Why should we tell you?” said Fred. 

“Oh, so you want me to get Professor McGonagall then? I’m sure she’d be much more understanding,” said Percy sarcastically. 

“You wouldn’t dare-” started Fred but was promptly interrupted by George. 

“Fine, it’s Nosebleed Nougat.”

Fred smacked his twin's shoulder, making him wince. 

“Nosebleed what!?” asked Percy. 

“It’s part of our Skiving Snackbox collection. It gives you a nosebleed,” explained George.

“Like the name suggests,” deadpanned Fred. 

A confectionery that caused nosebleeds didn’t sound particularly consumer friendly. 

“Why would anyone want this?” questioned Percy. 

“To get out of class of course,” smirked George. 

“That’s not…I’ll deal with that later.” The more he learnt, the more he wished he hadn’t. “Is this what you gave Mr McLaggen?”

“What about McLaggen? We don’t know what you’re talking about,” lied George. 

“I’m being serious. I know you gave him one of those snacks.”

“Why? What did he say?” asked George. 

Percy inwardly winced. He’d promised McLaggen he wouldn’t mention his name to the twins but he needed to know what they’d given him. 

“It wasn’t difficult to figure out. You’re the only two Gryffindors who’d do something like that.”

George scowled. “I guess our reputation precedes us.”

Fred snorted. “But you’re right, he ate a Puking Pastille. I hope you don’t need us to explain what that does.”

The twins snickered between themselves. 

“You know he’s still hospitalised? He can’t stop throwing up!” stressed Percy, shocked at their lack of remorse. 

“Yeah, it's an unfortunate side effect. We’re currently working on it,” admitted George. 

“You need to tell me the exact ingredients. Now!” demanded Percy. 

“Well, there’s honey, almonds, Doxy venom, egg whites-” George raised a finger for each ingredient he listed. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Doxy venom is a Class D Non-Tradeable Substance. It’s not meant for human consumption. No wonder he’s sick,” stated Percy. 

“Yeah, it eventually goes away, at least, for us it did,” said Fred. 

“There’s a right way and a wrong way to do these things.” Percy started pacing the room, as his frustration boiled over. “You can’t randomly use students as testers!” he yelled. 

“Why not? We’re paying them for their services. I don’t see what the big deal is?” complained George. 

“Paying them isn’t the problem. They’re children. Any student under the age of seventeen can’t consent. Not without the permission from a parent or legal guardian,” explained Percy. 

Fred and George shared a worried glance. Percy slowly blinked at their reaction. Hadn't they considered the ramifications? The rules and regulations? There were strict guidelines for a reason. 

“But we added a clause on our flyer,” said Fred. 

He hadn’t meant to but Percy burst into a harsh laughter. A clause like that wouldn’t protect them in a court of law. 

“That means nothing. Parents must be informed of any risks or inconveniences that could arise from testing. It’s all covered under the Food Safety Act. They’ve got a whole office dedicated to it in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” The twins gave him a blank look. “You did…register with them, right?”

“I mean, we’re still in our market research and testing phase. We’re not ready to launch anything yet,” admitted George. 

Percy stared at them in disbelief. 

“You’re telling me that you’re doing this unregulated,” he said with a cold edge to his voice. 

“We’ll get to it eventually. We just want to fine-tune things first,” said George. 

“Plus who gives a shit what the Ministry thinks,” added Fred. 

“So let me get this straight.” Percy closed the distance, causing them to stagger backwards onto the four-poster bed. “You don’t have a business licence, you’re not following any safety guidelines, you’re using unsanctioned ingredients, and are unlawfully using children as testers.”

“W-we, uh, we…” Fred stuttered, unable to answer him. 

“Did you think any of this through? Do you even understand the consequences of your actions?” asked Percy.

The twins shook their heads, gobsmacked. 

“Not only could they recall your products but you could be fined thousands of Galleons, or even be sent to Azkaban. You’re both of age now, you’ll be tried as adults,” he explained like he was talking to a toddler. 

“You’re taking this too seriously. We just want to make products for our joke shop,” said George. 

“And I want my brothers to avoid imprisonment,” spat Percy. “You’re being just like Dad. Why won’t you listen to me?!” 

“What makes you think we’d listen to you?!” yelled Fred. He pushed himself back up onto his feet. “You’ve always been so far above it all, thinking you know best, but look at you now! You’re stuck here at Hogwarts, away from home, away from your precious Ministry!”

“That’s enough!” roared Percy. The lights briefly flickered in the room, responding to his heightened emotion. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect Dad, to protect the family, but I can see that it’s been wasted on you. I don’t want to hear another word about testers!”

“You can’t stop us!” shouted George, backing up his twin. “We’re adults, like you oh so happily pointed out, we can do what we want.”

“Oh? You can, can you? Well, Skiving Snackboxes are now banned from Hogwarts!” He ignored their cries of protest. “And you’ve also got a week's worth of detentions to reflect on that.”

Percy grabbed the bedroom door and wretched it open. The twins tried to follow him but his magic lashed out, making one of the gas lamps burn so hot that it shattered. Glass went everywhere. 

“You’re just jealous that we’re actually following our dreams! I bet you couldn’t wait to tear us down when you entered Hogwarts!” yelled George. 

He slammed the door shut in their faces, then stormed downstairs. They’d pushed him too far. His hands shook with adrenaline as he let out a shaky breath. He’d only wanted to protect them from making a stupid mistake but they threw it right back in his face. 

At the bottom of the landing, he strode over to the bulletin board and conjured a large poster that stated:

Attention Gryffindor Students

Skiving Snackboxes are now banned at Hogwarts, including product testing or sampling. 

Any students found with these sweets will have them confiscated and may face further punishment. 

Signed, Professor Weasley.

Ginny approached him from behind and read the poster over his shoulder. 

“So, I guess you’ve caught onto them,” she said.

Percy whirled around to look at her, an accusation on the tip of his tongue but he reigned it back. All his siblings knew about the twins’ aspiration to open a joke shop. Even he was aware of some of the tamer products they’d created. It wasn’t their fault the twins poisoned McLaggen. 

“They’ve gone too far this time. A student has been hospitalised,” said Percy. 

Ginny winced. “Yep, that’d do it.”

“Do you know how long they’ve been testing their products on other students?” he asked.

“First day back, I think. They’ve been working all summer on their new line. Fred showed me the advertisement they placed in the Daily Prophet a couple of weeks ago. I think they’re taking mail orders.” 

“Of course they are.” Percy rolled his eyes. He wished that Ron or Ginny had told him about it. “Despite what the twins may think, I’ve never had an issue with them selling their products as long as they’re responsible about it, but I’m duty-bound to protect students from harm and from what I’ve seen, those sweets are harmful.”

“No arguments here,” placated Ginny, “If they’ve hurt someone, I believe you.”

Percy felt an overwhelming sense of fondness for his sister. He’d been more than ready to defend his decision but was glad she’d agreed with him.  

“I…thanks.” Percy smiled down at her. He was about to ask how her first week back at Hogwarts had been before remembering the Quidditch trials. “So, I realise that I haven’t properly congratulated you on becoming a Quidditch reserve. Well done, that’s pretty impressive.”

Ginny deflated. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said sadly. 

“Come on, Gin. You’ve got your foot in the door. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to play during the games.”

“Maybe.”

She seemed so dejected that Percy regretted bringing it up. He’d been the first one to encourage her to try out that year. 

“I’ll come watch the games regardless. You never know what’ll happen.”

Behind them, a couple more students had looked past Percy to read his poster. Then Hermione, followed closely by Ron, approached him. She held a half-finished knitted hat in her hands. 

“I’m glad you’re cracking down on this,” said Hermione. “I’ve caught them at least three times this week testing their products on other students. I had to threaten to tell Mrs Weasley to get them to stop but I guess they found a way around it.” She pointed at the group of first and second-year boys, who he’d unceremoniously kicked out of the dormitories. They looked over at Percy and began to frantically whisper. 

“It was something that had to be done," said Percy. 

“As Prefects, Ron and I can keep an eye on them for you,” suggested Hermione. 

“We’re doing what, now?” Ron asked Hermione. 

“Just let me know if you catch them testing their products on students again,” requested Percy. “I’ll take care of the rest.” 

Hermione nodded, then dragged Ron back over to the younger years to speak with them. 

Ginny watched them depart. “You know the twins won’t take this lying down,” she said.

“I’m aware.” He sighed. “The other professors will be informed.” 

Percy slid into one of the mismatched chairs in the staffroom and took out his leather-bound journal. Dumbledore had organised a staff meeting late Sunday afternoon. After his argument with the twins, he’d opted to stay in his office for the remainder of the night, not wishing to see them at dinner. His carefully crafted mask had slipped and he felt exposed. It’d been a long time since he’d lost control of his magic and caused an accident like that. The twins had managed to push his boundaries to the point of break, until he’d snapped at them. It felt no different from when they were kids and they’d teased him until he cried. 

Someone behind him cleared their throat. 

“Could I have a word, Percy?” asked Professor McGonagall. 

He nodded and then followed her into a secluded corner of the room, next to the fireplace. They’d arrived early, so there weren’t any other faculty around to overhear their conversation.  

“I received your notice about the twins’ detentions. They’ve been informed to meet Argus at seven o’clock Monday night,” she said, before softening her voice. “Was there a reason you didn’t want to hold the detentions yourself?”

Percy would never admit it but he was deeply hurt by their words. They’d torn down his defences and he needed time to build himself back up. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to see them until their lesson on Tuesday, but until then he had no desire to talk with them. 

“Argus will be fine. I’m sure he’ll get them to do some menial labour or something equally unpleasant.” 

“I’ve also spoken to the Prefects about the issue and they’ll be monitoring the twins to ensure no more product testing occurs,” explained Professor McGonagall. She pursued her lips tightly. “To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement. Poor McLaggen is still hospitalised and I’ve had to inform his parents. I hope nothing further comes of it.”

“I told Poppy that one of the ingredients he ingested was doxy venom, so I'm sure she’ll be able to flush it out of his system now that she knows.” Percy swallowed down a lump of shame. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you straight away. I thought I could handle the twins by myself, they’re my brothers after all.”

Professor McGonagall gave him a sympathetic look. 

“We’ve all lost our composure at one point or another. Children like to push your buttons, family doubly so, but don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ve done the best you can,” consoled Professor McGonagall. 

“Thanks, but I really-” Percy paused when he caught a glimpse of a black cloak.  

Professor Snape had silently entered the staffroom and had leant over the table to read his journal. Percy had left it open in preparation for the meeting. 

“Excuse me, Minerva.” 

He made his way back over to Snape who answered his gaze with a glare.

“You’ve got awfully messy handwriting for a notetaker,” stated Snape. 

The journal was enchanted so that only Percy and Fudge could read its contents. To anyone else, it appeared indecipherable. 

“I’ve got a lot to write in a short amount of time,” excused Percy. 

“Things certainly have changed since you were a student here. If I recall correctly, your handwriting used to be exceptionally neat,” Snape drawled. 

“Yes, well, things do change. I think we can both acknowledge that,” said Percy as he met the other man’s eyes. 

“We’ll see.”

For a brief moment he felt a pressure in his mind but it was gone before he knew what was happening. Snape turned back towards the table and took a seat as far from Percy as he possibly could. 

“Good talk,” Percy whispered sarcastically under his breath. 

Professor Sprout entered next and took a seat, leaving McGonagall to sit across from him. 

“So, how is your commemorative project coming along? I’ve seen students writing on those parchments sheets you’ve handed out,” said Professor Sprout. 

“I’ve had a great response from your Hufflepuffs. Mr Preece, one of the seventh-years, has taken charge and has been helping me. So far, thirty students have returned their papers but I’ve got at least another one hundred I need to follow up on,” explained Percy. 

It’d been great seeing the different Houses work on something together, instead of competing against each other. 

“Have there been any issues with the messages?” asked Professor McGonagall. 

“Nothing unsavoury, if that’s what you mean. I won’t allow anyone to disrespect Cedric or his passing.” Percy furrowed his brow. He’d reread each message thrice to ensure he didn’t miss anything. 

“Once you’ve finished the memorial, you should contact Amos Diggery and show him the messages. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” suggested Professor Sprout, with a sad smile on her lips. 

“Yeah…”

Percy hadn’t contacted the man yet. It was a painful subject to talk about and he felt like it was impersonal to ask through a letter. Would he even want to attend Hogwarts again? He’d have to broach the topic closer to completion. 

The creak of the staffroom door distracted Percy from his thoughts. Dumbledore, followed closely by Professors Trelawney and Grubbly-Plank, entered the room. Once all the teachers had arrived and taken a seat (excluding Binns who floated next to the table), the meeting began. After a few notices, including the updated passwords for the common rooms, Dumbledore opened the table to further discussion. 

Percy listened intently and took down notes in his journal. The staff brought up various issues that had occurred during the first week; ranging from a bullying incident, to a burnt library book. 

“...charge their parents for the cost, then have them banned from the library for the rest of the term,” finished Madam Pince. She was the strictest librarian he’d ever met. 

“That may be a little harsh, Irma, perhaps just for a week instead?” compromised Dumbledore. 

“Fine, but I’ll be keeping a very close eye on them. They need to be properly supervised.”

Percy could understand the frustration of destroyed property, especially books, but Madam Pince was being a little overdramatic. When he received his spare textbook back from Veda, he didn’t chastise her for the smudged cover or folded corners. She was a child after all and accidents did happen.

“Very well, it’s settled then,” stated Dumbledore, as he noted down the punishment on a piece of parchment paper.  

While the other teachers waited, Percy took the opportunity to raise his own issue. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the room. 

“I have something I’d like to discuss.”

Dumbledore gave him a curt nod, allowing him the spotlight. 

“Some of you may not be aware but the Ministry has passed a new Education Bill regarding Hogwarts.” The room burst into murmurs. Percy flipped the pages in his journal back to a specific entry. “I’ve written it down, Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three allows Hogwarts to be subjected to informal scrutiny by an approved Ministry member.”

“Are they sending in someone from the Department of Magical Education?” asked Professor Vector. There was a slight tremor in her voice. 

Before Percy could answer, Dumbledore cut in. “They’ve asked you to do it, haven’t they?” Despite his relaxed tone, Percy could sense that the Headmaster was agitated with him. 

“Yes, you’re right, but that’s why I wanted to bring it up now.” Percy took a deep breath, before he addressed the entire room. “The Ministry wants me to write a performance review on each of you. Then present them to the Board of Directors at the end of the term.”

The room immediately broke into chaos, as several questions were thrown at him simultaneously.

“Why would the Ministry want to review our performances!? I’ve never had a complaint!” said Professor Sinistra. 

“What? The Board of Directors! Those old coots. This is ridiculous!” said Professor Sprout. 

“You’re not qualified to conduct staff reviews! Why would you be chosen?” asked Professor Babbling. 

“If you’d just-” Percy tried to answer but they spoke over him. 

“Quiet!” yelled Professor McGonagall and the room immediately silenced. “Let him speak.”

“Thanks Minerva. As I was saying, you should all be aware by now that the Ministry plans to interfere with Hogwarts. It started the moment they decided to appoint their own teacher instead of letting the Headmaster handle things.” Percy slowly gazed at the professors sitting around the table, letting the seriousness of the topic sink in. “Let me make myself clear, I don’t support the Ministry’s stance. This is a private school and it should remain private, rather than being controlled by the government.”

“But I thought you worked for the Ministry?” asked Professor Sinistra. 

“I do but I’m my own person, I can have opinions, you know.” As long as he didn’t mention Fudge, coercion, or spying, then Percy was sure that he’d be able to voice a few of his grievances. “I’m aware that you’ve all been teaching for many years, some of you longer than I’ve been alive, but if these reviews aren’t done by me, they’ll be completed by someone else. There's no guarantee they’ll be as fair as me. I’m at least giving you prior warning.”

“I suppose we don’t have much of a choice in this matter, do we?” asked Professor Vector, as she slumped down in her seat. The thought of being assessed dampened her mood. 

“If you work with me, then there’s nothing to fear,” consoled Percy. “I’ve been taught by all of you, so I’m already aware of your teaching styles. You’re all competent as far as I’m concerned.” Well at least most of you are, he added in his head. 

He didn’t want to write any negative reviews but he couldn’t let the Minister think he was going too easy on them. It’d be a careful balancing act. Percy opened his satchel and pulled out a stack of parchment paper. He tapped it with his wand and the pages flew into the hands of the teachers. 

“These are the dates and times your assessments will be conducted. I’ve specifically chosen those days because I’ll have to leave my class unsupervised and I can only trust the older students to manage their workload without me. Unless, the Headmaster is able to get someone to cover for me?” He looked over at Dumbledore who nodded at his request.

He gave himself two to three performance assessments a week, which took him into early December. 

“Your records will be sent to me from the Ministry. So those, plus my reviews, will be presented to the Directors.”

A few of the teachers looked worried. Until he read their files, he wouldn’t know whether he should be concerned or not. He already knew that Snape had a criminal record, thanks to Professor McGonagall’s warning, but to his knowledge none of the other teachers had anything to hide. 

“Thank you for informing us, Percy,” said Professor Flitwick. “We’re glad it's you and not another Ministry official.”

Thankfully most of the room agreed with him, apart from Professor Vector and Snape. The former looked like she was going to throw up and the latter sneered his displeasure at Percy. After the room settled down, Dumbledore wrapped things up and then dismissed them. As Percy packed away his belongings, the Headmaster approached and then lightly touched his arm.

“Could you stay behind to talk?” he whispered into his ear. 

Percy nodded and allowed the room to empty before he faced the Headmaster. 

“Why didn’t you inform me about the Minister’s plan?” His tone was accusatory. 

“What do you mean? I just told everybody his plan.” 

Percy knew that Dumbledore was alluding to the fact that he’d told others before he told him. 

“I’m the Headmaster of this school, surely I deserve to know first. I could’ve helped you.” 

“I’ve already got help and a plan of my own. What would you have me do differently?” He leaned back, creating space between the two of them. “Would you have even warned them?”

The Headmaster didn’t answer, which was an answer within itself. 

“I’m going to do everything in my power to thawt Fudge’s plans and that includes sharing information with whomever I want. My family and I are the ones at risk, so it’s only fair that I choose how to handle things. Not you.”

Dumbledore backed off and any irritation he felt at Percy seemed to dissipate too. 

“If I need your help, I’ll ask.”