HP story; the miss-Adventures of the Magical Scarlet Pimpernel
Based on a short HP story rated K - - as crafted by Elyse3 at fan-fiction dot com called; The Scarlet Pimpernel - - First published: 09-14-07 possible completion date: 11-04-08
This will be yet another in a long-line of Hollywood remakes by Billybob-csagun36
A/N: this was one of only two; all-time favorite Percy centered stories. It was first published in 2007 and I reread it several time a year. I recently went back to send yet another thank you note to the original author only to discover that he/she (elyse3) was gone and the story pulled. Words cannot describe my disappointment.
Although clearly dated, (in plot) the story itself was amazing - and if anyone out there knows who Elyse3 is; please send Him/her my thanks for a really good read. (All attempts to find the original Elyse3 story on the internet failed) It is a sad commentary on our times that so many fan-fiction stories and their authors have disappeared. However; that the original short story has disappeared - - - in itself did not prevent me from engaging in a favorite pastime of mine, namely: tweaking a good story and embellishing it to make it better (or worse)
Be warned, this is intended as a respectful rewrite! But large sections have been changed to fit my fancy!
Billybob opening rant:
My HP world view was forever tainted on the Eighth of February, 2014; when an announcement was made by JK Rowling concerning the epilog pairing of Ron and Hermione, an announcement which has been for the most part universally ignored by the fan base. In published statements both JKR and the actress Emma Watson, who played Hermione Granger, 'both' believe that Ron would have been a poor fit for Hermione as a life mate; that they would have had marital problems. They both voiced the view that if they had their druthers ...Potter (the Hero) should have rode off into the sunset with Granger (the Heroine). Even JKR admitted recently that if she could redo her series Harry would have ended-up with Hermione. My point is that I believe that Harry and Hermione would have been an even worse pairing.
Few can argue that JK Rowling has 'any skill' in writing a believable romance. After all; the primary target audience for her book series was twelve year old's, a group not yet cursed with the horrors of going through puberty. JKR was writing an adventure yarn about three 'friends' fighting evil and romance had nothing to do with it. In the first three books, sex was strictly limited to identifying gender… however all that changed in book four. During that book the prospect of teenage romance came into play as the main characters turned fourteen. Under pressure from her publisher (I assume) JKR started toying with the idea of a romantic connection between Hermione and one of the boys.
That JKR openly admits that the Ron/Hermione ship was not done for plot reasons is backed up by the fact that JK Rowling had three additional books to write a believable- love story -between either Ron and Hermione as well as Harry and Ginny. However during her news conference of February 8th 2014, she announced her utter failure to create a binding romance between either couple.
This story gives Rowling's her alternate ending; as a sub-plot - but with a twist.
Informative note: The Scarlet Pimpernel was a stage play and adventure novel first-penned by Emma Orczy in 1905. The story is set during the 'Reign of Terror' following the start of the French Revolution. The title character, Sir Percy Blakeney, a wealthy English fop who transforms into a formidable swordsman and a quick-thinking escape artist, represents the original "hero with a secret identity" that was a precursor to subsequent literary creations such as Don Diego de la Vega (Zorro) and Bruce Wayne (Batman).
Opening at the New Theatre in London's West End on 5 January 1905, the drama became a favorite of British audiences, eventually playing more than 2,000 performances and becoming one of the most popular shows ever staged in Britain. In 1997 a Broadway musical opened under the same name and was composed by Frank Wildhorn with the book (script) written by Nan Knighton, the production starred Douglas Sills as Sir Percy Blakeney, Christine Andreas as Marguerite Blakeney, with Terrence Mann playing Citizen Chauvelin. Several motion pictures have also been made of Sir Percy Blakeney, adventures.
Disclaimers: as already stated - The Scarlet Pimpernel was originally written by Baroness Orczy and - 'any and all' - copyrights belongs to her descendants, I use it because I love it, and I think it fits almost perfectly into the world of Harry Potter. Traditional Disclaimer: I'm not the author of the Happy Potter books, and the only profit I seek is the amusement of my few internet readers. JKR owns everything else.
I am admittedly not even a remotely trained writer; I have even been asked if English is a second language for me. There will be grammar and writing format errors in this 'tale' that will turn many stomachs. Honestly-people there is only so much spell check will do. I consider myself an unskilled…story teller, who shouldn't be allowed to publish.
Again; you have been warned! - so - "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here"
*** The lights in the theater fade and we begin - - *****
Part 1
Chapters; 1 – 2 - 3
888888
Percy Weasley didn't just like paperwork. He enjoyed it. However, he was not quite sure he liked or even enjoyed this new paperwork.
"Why would you entrust such a task to me, Madame Undersecretary?" Percy asked, pouring over the genealogy charts and questionnaires. He felt a vague sense of unease and moved his shoulders back to loosen the tension in his back. It didn't help.
Pius Thicknesse remained dead-pan, whereas Dolores Umbridge smiled (in a rather reptilian fashion, Percy thought, though he would never speak something so disrespectful aloud) and pushed over another stack. In a syrupy sweet voice she said, "Naturally, it had to be you; Weasley! We would never entrust such a vital task to anyone less talented."
Percy puffed up with pride. "Ah, well…."
"In fact, I think we ought to make you a very junior; special Assistant to the Minister himself."
"Yes, knock off the 'junior' for Weasley," Pius Thicknesse, Minister of Magic strongly suggested, a bit vaguely, pushing his streaked hair away from his high forehead. "The thing is, I'm not really a good burrocrat… the talents that earned me my position laid in a different area. Both of my predecessors greatly depended on you to keep the machinery of government running smoothly. So you will be my red-tape cutter. Fudge was just as bad a burrocrat as I am… his talents, in particular were primarily political."
Percy was secretly thrilled that he was no longer known as 'Weatherby', despite the very rude owls attached to "Norwegian fertilizer samples" that his brothers still sent him occasionally. But the thought that he, Percy Weasley, at twenty, would be placed in such a position of authority, be given such a vital task! No one so young had ever risen so quickly through the ranks of the Ministry. Percy felt so swollen with pride it was quite a wonder his feet were still on the ground.
"Why, Minister, I-"
"Shush, shush, shush!" Dolores said, smiling so widely it was almost grotesque. "No need to thank us for recognizing your dedication to the Ministry of Magic. It is always a happy event when a pureblood realizes their true place and position. Now, it comes with a pay raise and a very nice new office with an enchanted window." She waved her stubby wand in her equally stubby fingers, and a piece of pink paper rose up, folded itself into a- 'paper airplane' -and hovered over the desk. "This will take you to your new office on the executive floor, Weasley. Can we, perhaps, trust you to take on this 'teensy-weensy' task of all this paperwork? We need it all done in time for the hearings. Can we trust you to make sure no nasty, horrid person will be telling lies to our ministry?"
There was something very wrong. Percy could feel it. It was an increase of the tension he'd felt for the past few months, an increase in the ache between his shoulder-bones, an increase in the chill, metallic air.
'Blasted Dementor's,' he thought, resolutely scooping up all the charts.
"Of course," he said, not showing the unease he tried to shove out of his mind. He was Percy Weasley, keen (well… overly-keen), ambitious, intelligent and eminently capable. He was good at paperwork and he reveled in the inner workings of bureaucracy. He liked his work more than anything else. He was detail-oriented, could spot inaccuracies with ease, he could nit-pick so well it would put even the most determined of editors to shame. That was why he had this job. That was why he had to do this.
"I am so pleased!" chirruped Dolores. "Now, why don't you see if you can check these thoroughly before lunch? And you might take time this evening to upgrade your wardrobe, no-more off the rack for you… after-all; you can certainly afford it with the substantial increase in your pay-bucket … come by my office later and I'll give you the name of a spot-on tailor. Here -" she said while presenting him with a stack of books and a set of dusty tapestries "- this is everything you'll need. Now, let us do hope we can have the trials in time for everyone to go home for a bit of shopping and a proper dinner?"
"Of course," Percy said, with great dignity. He waved his wand at all the books and they followed after him to the office not more than ten feet away from the Minister's. He tried, with much difficulty, to get rid of his unease in thoughts of his new office (with his own, magical window!) but the brief daydreams were hollow and the new office looked very much like his old one- just bigger, with nicer furniture, and of course a window. He did have a leather swivel chair now, though. Percy rather liked his leather swivel chair.
The window wasn't much good; it was raining just outside the glass. The weather was always bleak – these days. The Magical Maintenance Department hated the new Minister (why the Minister never listened to Percy's warnings about discontent among the Ministry personnel … Percy never knew). He flicked his wand at the ceiling, where a large candelabra flicked on, bathing the office in what felt like sunshine.
That was nice at least (as was the very comfortable swivel chair) and Percy managed to convince himself that he was comfortable as he spread out the charts and the tapestries and the books, as he flipped through the questionnaires and marked up the paperwork. It was the work Percy liked best. He enjoyed fact checking, he enjoyed working on details. Research had always been one of his major-strengths and minute details a constant joy. This was a comparatively easy task and at the same time extremely enjoyable. Percy liked piecing together bits and pieces to make a whole, taking facts and adding them together to create a new understanding of the magical world.
The unease crept up upon him again and Percy flung himself into the last of the work, finishing well before lunch. He tried not to be disturbed by the names of the witches and wizards on the questionnaires and the charts – in fact; he knew a fair few of them. This one was a friend of his fathers, that one was a distant cousin-by-marriage, this one was a student he had talked to when he, Percy, had been Head Boy, that one was… his ex-girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater.
Percy looked blankly down at the questionnaire, with Penny's scrupulously neat writing. Mother, worked for the British Foreign Office at Whitehall as a diplomatic liaison to the Muggle French Embassy, ; Father, owner of a rare books store in Muggle London, which he also ran; and finally a Brother, a squib; worked as an Anglican priest in Kent. Yes, all correct. But then it accrued to him - - All were Muggles except for Penny and she a Muggleborn, he thought uneasily, she was being condemned to Azkaban for the 'crime' of being without any magical ancestors. Under the new Law they were guilty as soon as they walked through the doors to the courtroom. Could he really send Penny to Azkaban?
Percy neatly stacked all the charts and corrections to the side, intending to think more deeply on the subject before he was interrupted by another sudden thought. He had been uneasy earlier because this must have been someone else's job before him. What had happened to them? He was reasonably sure Dolores's previous assistant had checked these same charts, but Percy decided to look it up regardless (which, he thought, a bit smugly, was the reason he was scarcely twenty-one and Assistant to the Minister). After making a mental note to suggest rosters that automatically changed, pulled a roster of ministry employees from his desk drawer and scanned it. He tapped his wand onto the name of Dolores's personal assistant ('Martha Austen') and felt enormously pleased with himself for thinking up a rooster that listed all official duties.
Ah, he had been right.
She- had -been in charge of fact-checking for the Muggleborn inquisitions.
Austen was a good name, a respectable, pure-blooded name, but, as his ex-girlfriend Penny told him, it was a very common Muggle surname as well, so Martha's parentage was completely up in the air. Percy had actually known Martha… personally. She was a smart young thing who liked gossip and was passionately fond of Rita Skeeter. Percy had absently thought of asking her to dinner once or twice …before realizing that, one, Martha had quite possibly the most irritating laugh he had ever heard, and two, Martha simply wasn't Penny.
Percy frowned. It seemed very unusual that someone like Martha had given up part of her job.
He hadn't seen Martha in days, however. He had assumed she had fallen ill, which was an entirely dangerous assumption, as Percy suddenly remembered the sad fate of 'Bertha Jorkins' feeling the exact same horror he had felt when he thought he'd never see his Head Boy badge again - - but he, Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Minister of Magic himself, would never have been asked to take over Martha Austen's duties because of a silly cold or a accidental hex.
Percy checked his pocket watch, trying not to remember that his parents had given it to him, tucked his wand into his sleeve for safe keeping (he had his robes made with a special pocket in the sleeve for his wand- he did like to have it close to hand), stacked all the charts and questionnaires and made his way down to the lowest floor. This really was odd and felt very strange indeed. True, he had a reputation for being a dedicated workaholic, but he had a Ministry to run (more or less- administrative details, which Percy reveled in … the same details that gave the new Minister headaches). Surely this task was an unimportant one when they considered how frosty the French ministry was.
Madame Olympe Maxime, headmistress of the Beauxbatons magical Academy of France, had friends in very high places indeed and she had believed Dumbledore's crap from the get-go. Then, of course, there was the Order of the Phoenix, now declared a terrorist organization and the Minister's burning desire to incarcerate Harry Potter – declared an enemy of the state … surely Martha could handle something as comparatively minor as fact-checking registered Muggleborn's backgrounds….?
"Sorry about this," said the security witch, on the last floor, just by the elevator, bringing Percy out of his thoughts.
"Hm?"
"I need to have your wand for inspection", the witch said. "Strange really, these new rules - - but I suppose some people transfigure themselves before they come in or something, so I have to check your wand. So, er, I'll need to see it."
"Oh, of course," Percy said, handing it over. "Can't be too careful, can we… er-" friendly looking face, nose a little off-center, "Eloise is it? - - No it couldn't be …not after that disastrous invasion by the criminal Potter gang … a scandal really"
"Oh yes, it was. Loads of the regular guards disappeared after that … sacked, I suppose?" She said as she tapped his wand and muttered 'Prior Incantato.' After she watched the smoky gray shapes of Percy's last few charms and spells flit about she handed it back. "There you go."
"Thank you, Eloise," he said absently, taking his wand back and burying his nose amongst his papers. "What a thorough job you're doing."
"And it isn't exactly easy," Eloise said, scratching absently at a spot the- 'bubotuber pus' -had not removed. "The Dementor's are all over the place now. Gives me the creeps I can tell you", she said as she involuntarily shivered. "I hate having them underfoot. Horrible, they are… just horrible."
Percy tried for a reassuring smile. "They're for our protection. Now, have you seen Martha Austen around?"
"No, not for-days, which is odd; really - because we were chums back in Hufflepuff …ate lunch every day together. She hasn't gone on holiday I would have known – hasn't owled me or anything. You'd think she would if she was going out of town. I did nip by her flat yesterday, but she made it impenetrable after Dumbledore's funeral, so I couldn't go it."
"I shall have to report her absence," Percy muttered. Then, louder: "You are sure she isn't just ill?"
"She'd send me an owl, I think," Eloise said, albeit dubiously. "I mean, I would think she'd send me an owl. Unless she's to-sick to send one …But then-again - she'd pop over to St. Mungo's, and I think I'm closest to her in the wizarding world, since her parents are both Muggles, which means as emergency contact - - St. Mungo's would owl me right-way …wouldn't they? I haven't had an owl from anyone in weeks though, so she can't be ill, can she?"
"Rest assured I shall look into it." With a swell of pride: "I've just been named Special Assistant to the Minister and I'm acquainted with his first Undersecretary, Madam Umbridge herself … who is waiting for these, you know. Top Ministry business cannot be kept waiting." He lifted up his documents, tucked his and back in his sleeve, and continued down the hallway and down the stairs. He braced himself against the unnatural chill of the Dementor's, the cold that sapped of strength, energy, and the will to go on living.
Percy thought even more grimly about his promotion as he walked on, making quite an affair of putting away his wand and restacking his papers. If he ignored the Dementor's chill, absorbed him-self in work he liked kept his mind busy – he'd be fine. He then accidentally dropped the top few sheets of parchment and one of the witches waiting on the hard wooden benches knelt down to help him with it.
"Ah, thank you…." Percy abruptly trailed off and looked up at the witch. "P-Penelope?"
The witch, in lime green robes with a crossed wand and bone embroidered on her chest, let the paper she picked up flutter from her fingers back to the floor. "Oh." Penelope Clearwater, her blue eyes wide, looked up at him, a faint blush spreading over her pale cheeks. "I- er… hello?"
It is always awkward to meet an ex, and even more awkward when said ex dumped you in a particularly harsh fashion. Percy thought he had reached levels of awkwardness hitherto unknown to any couple who had broken up badly in the fact that one, he still happened to be more or less in love with said ex, and two, said ex told him in no uncertain terms she was breaking up with him because; he was working for a totally corrupt Ministry under Fudge and here he was, working for an even worst ministry under Pius Thicknesse , and three, said ex was currently awaiting the magical version of the Spanish inquisition with a predetermined outcome due to her now criminalized Muggleborn status… a trial which he, was most likely going to have to attend, and for which he was currently carrying all the incriminating evidence.
This was not turning out to be a good day.
"Miss Clearwater," Percy said. He picked up the papers very slowly, eyes on the floor. "It's… been a while."
"Yes," Penny said; with her hands were as cold as her tone - as Percy discovered when he brushed them accidentally. Her calm, pretty face was very pale and pinched.
Percy begun to feel absolutely miserable about this - - as the certain fate of this very pretty girl weighed in on him as surely as the bad memory of their breakup.
8888 flashback begins - -
"You've made your mother cry!" Penny shouted at him, her long, curly hair whipping around and hiding her face.
He felt taught and tight and utterly angry. He felt raw, incredibly raw. "Penny, why do you keep revisiting this?"
"Because I spent an hour pouring her tea and patting her shoulder saying, 'Oh no, Percy's fine, he didn't mean it' and hearing that oh yes Percy you did and what's worse … you now think Dumbledore's an horrific liar and that he'd fed all of us false crap about Potter. A bloke who you say is ruining the future of your brother Ron. A sibling and foolish prat for loving Potter's girl - - Hermione. You've made your only sister Ginny cry with your prediction that she'll never be with Potter long-term and that Granger will steal him from her in the end. But by far the worse you've done is yell at your father and then refuse to have anything to do with your abusive and disloyal family… ever again."
Penny's voice was low, sharp, wounding, with deadly, deadly accuracy. It was always dangerous when Penny really started talking on a subject. She preferred to watch, to listen, to sit quietly and think. It was always an incredibly serious matter when she broke past her habitual reserve.
"Penny! Don't be unreasonable. Look, I have worked- really worked for years to get here. You should know Penny! I ran the entire Department of International Magical Cooperation on my own for nearly a year. If you think I don't deserve this appointment-"
Sharply: "Percy that's not it."
"Then what is Penny?"
She roughly grabbed her cloak off of the couch and turned her back to him. He could still see her hands tremble. "I hate you like this Percy. Listening to you go 'on and on' about how you had to fill in for the elder-Crouch when he disappeared was one thing, but this? Working for Fudge that Death Eater flunky is moronic and overly ambitious. He'd sell-out all of us for he's' a self-serving individual with little to no sense of morality or family loyalty… he'd sell out his mother if it helped his career."
Nothing could hurt more than the raw-truth. And in a state of total-denial, his face hardened. "If that's what you really think of me, Penny- fine, fine! We all hold opinions …even if they're crackpot theories about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named coming back and plotting a bloodless Death Eater coup and ruining the Ministry by proxy".
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," Penny said, whirling around at him, her voice taught and tight and horrible to his ears. Percy felt something inside him crumble, some deep inner wound that twisted and hurt so unbearably that he felt he could no longer stand. He couldn't look at her. "We're through."
And she was gone.
** End flashback
And thereafter;Percy was utterly alone, and he has been - - ever since then.
Percy, with some difficulty, pulled himself out of his thoughts and tried for his usual elf- possession. "I am sorry that we did not part of amicable terms. I still think very highly of you and with our last meeting…"
"…I believe I dumped you, cold and hard" Penelope said, very simply. She looked down, her mouth suddenly twisting, as if she'd tasted something bitter. "I called you a moronic, overly ambitious, self- seeking individual with little to no sense of morality or family loyalty and apparently I was spot-on. Your career in serving genocidal tyrants has reached new heights."
"Very good memory," Percy replied, a little peevishly. And then, in an attempt to regain some of his dignity, he shoved his glasses up his nose and said, as pompously as he possibly could, "I don't suppose you regret dumping me?"
Penelope looked up at him and appeared to think about this a moment.
"No," she said.
"Oh-kay." Percy took the paper back from her, noticing Penny's closed - reserved expression. He took the paper back from her and looked at it.
It was hers.
"You don't need to explain," she said, stonily - - knowing all too well what he had in his hand.
"Penny-"
"Do excuse me, Mr. Weasley, but I do not think it is entirely 'within your rights' to call me by nicknames anymore." She sat down on the bench and picked up her book, staring fixedly at a spot on the page. The Scarlet Pimpernel trembled in her hands. Percy thought she ought to give up the pretext entirely; it certainly wasn't fooling anyone.
Feeling rather waspish as well as incredibly depressed, he gathered up his papers and walked into the courtroom. His neck felt hot.
"Have you got the papers, Weasley?" Umbridge chirped, as soon as Percy walked in. "How very prompt! I just got in myself."
"Yes," he said dully, walking forward.
She exchanged a look with Yaxley, sitting next to her. Yaxley leaned forward. "Have you been down here before, Weasley?"
"No sir," Percy replied, focusing on the Patronus walking back and forth before Umbridge. It, he decided, was an utterly foul cat and it was with difficulty that he suppressed the urge to kick it.
"Oh, have the Dementor's got you down?" Umbridge asked, in her syrupy voice.
Percy struggled to respond. "I am not used to so many at once. Ah… may I ask what happened to Martha Austen, my predecessor?" He repressed a wince. His voice sounded shaky, weak.
"She's in Azkaban," Umbridge replied, making Percy stop in the middle of the courtroom. "Her work was not quite… up to standard." Umbridge's smile sickened him. Percy forced himself to step forward.
"What have you got there, Weasley?" she asked.
Percy looked at his clenched fist. "Er…." He had unconsciously crumpled up Penelope Clearwater's questionnaire.
"Hand it over."
Percy did so, having been trained for years to obey authority.
"Now, Weasley," Umbridge continued on, her voice so syrupy sweet Percy wondered why she wasn't diabetic, "why did you crumple up this questionnaire? Did the nasty Mudblood lie to us?"
Dolores Umbridge, Percy thought miserably, had an ability hitherto unknown outside of his family, to make him feel like a naughty five-year-old. "No."
"Then why did you do this to Penelope Clearwater's questionnaire? I know you would ever be… disloyal to the Ministry, so what is this filthy Mudblood to you? Did she misspell something? I know you dislike that."
Percy felt the back of his neck heat up again. "I was- she was back at Hogwarts … my first girlfriend," he said stiffly, too proud to tag on that she had been his only girlfriend. He felt he ought to tag something on, but couldn't quite think of it.
"Oh, embarrassed, are you?" Yaxley asked.
Percy nodded quickly. He was embarrassed- mostly because Penelope had completely rejected him, again, even though he was Special Assistant to the Minister of Magic himself, and partly because he had been caught trying to keep Penelope, however unconsciously, from coming to trial.
Umbridge looked quite surprised, either because she had not imagined Percy could debase himself to date a mere Muggleborn, or because she thought Percy had never had a girlfriend. It was more likely the latter, but Percy pretended it was the former, to salvage what was left of his pride.
"Did you never think to ask if she was a Mudblood?" Yaxley asked, looking a little surprised.
"No," Percy said. "She was petrified by a basilisk in my sixth year, Sir Nicholas was as well, and he has one of the most impressive pedigrees in wizarding society. I looked it up in Hogwarts, a History in my first year- distantly related to Merlin, you know. All the Hogwarts ghosts are pure-blooded. I was told The Grey Lady, the Ravenclaw Ghost, is somehow related to Ravenclaw herself." He was babbling. Percy cut himself off by clearing his throat and making a great show of restacking his papers.
"Mudblood's," Umbridge said wickedly… slowly, toying with her stubby wand, "can be so devious, can't they, Percy?" There was something sickening in her smile, in her voice. Percy felt ill. "I can call you Percy, can I not? I feel quite a connection with you Percy. How easy it is to make mistakes in the heyday of one's youth! - Not that I ever did," she added, with a silvery little laugh. "But for a young man, it is so easy to be taken in by a pretty face." Percy nearly trembled with rage as he thought: 'Taken in… by Penny?'
"He's clearly in shock, Dolores," Yaxley said sounding slightly amused, who was turning out to be extremely helpful by telling Percy how to behave. "Ah, I remember a Veela in my youth…."
Umbridge cleared her throat with a little 'hem-hem' sound. "Is this entirely appropriate, Yaxley?"
"Er, no." He turned to Percy. "Can't believe you tainted yourself, did you? Well, know better now …don't you?"
"Indeed!' Umbridge chirped, taking the papers from Percy. "It is a shock to discover that one has been so deceived, but you are a Weasley and… known for your hot blood!" She clicked her tongue. "You are not the first Weasley to be deceived by someone from the wrong side of the tracks… eh? - - Ronald, your brother has been tainted by a Mudblood too, hasn't he? – But will sort that out too - - soon enough. It is to your credit that you (at least) have recognized your error - - and have learned from it, yes?"
"Mm," Percy said in noise that was noncommittal in tone, doing everything he could to keep himself from leaping up and throttling the senior Undersecretary; instead he tried to look as neutral as possible.
"Now you can move on and find a nice pureblood girl of proper breeding, who has the political connections required to help advance your career. I see a bright future ahead of you and the cornerstone is a Marital-alliance with the right families. If you play your cards right, I will introduce you to one of my cousins for you know I am related to almost every pureblooded family that's worth Knowing." With a toad-like smile she asked for payment: "I shall put you in charge of the prisoners today. You can deliver them to Azkaban. That will cheer you up immeasurably, I'm sure."
Percy forced himself to look grateful, his blood pounding furiously through his veins. 'My life depends on this woman's trust,' he thought savagely, trying to keep his control over himself, 'My life depends on this woman's trust.'
"Thank you very much Dolores," Percy managed. "I really am shocked that I could be so…so - taken in." He could not help the flash of real fury at that, the raging bitterness that leapt up to choke him. Hopefully it added to the verisimilitude.
"No need to punish Percy for being deceived - he is already angry enough at himself", Yaxley said.
Umbridge smiled. "Of course he is, aren't you, Percy?"
"I… really!" he spluttered, before making a big show of taking a deep, calming breath. "Yes, well, I have a job to do. Miss Clearwater will get what's coming to her." Savagely, with an utter self- loathing he just managed to disguise as anger towards Penelope: "I shall make sure of it. It is my job, after all. I would not give it up for anyone."
Yaxley and Umbridge looked exceptionally pleased with him and themselves.
"You will send word once the trials are over?" Percy asked, with a vague return to his usual pompousness. "I should so hate to miss out."
"But of course!" Umbridge exclaimed.
Percy walked out of the room, posture ramrod straight, chin tilted up, and shut the door behind him firmly. Once out he leaned against the door, sagging. He had to answer to all the memos still in his in-tray, the Minister always took his tea about now, they had an hour and a half until the latest press conference and their appointed spokes-wizard desperately needed the practice, there was that new bill he had to drafted on when and where and why the Killing Curse could be legally excused, there was probably another dead body in the Atrium again that no one bothered to clean up, and- oh Merlin- in three hours he had to take Penelope Clearwater to Azkaban.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no…..
"It didn't go well?" asked one woman, managing to look up off of the floor. "I've heard it never goes well."
"No, it never does," Percy said thickly. He desperately wanted to edit some statements, do something, anything reassuringly simple- rearrange a department, reorganize the security measures….
"It'll be all right in the end," said the woman, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.
"No," Percy said, glancing over to where Penelope stared at her book. "It won't."
OoOoOoOoOo
Chapter 2
In which Percy makes a decision
Percy sat in his office, viciously attacking the interdepartmental memo on new security procedures. It already bore so much red ink it looked like a communist flag, not a document on random office searches and wand inspections.
At the very top of the paper he managed to cram a, 'You profess to have a complete understanding of wizarding security? Let me know when you have mastered contemporary English. I find that to be a much more pressing matter.'
He sent it zooming off into the bowels of the Ministry with a flick of his wand and, dismayed, discovered that he did not have any more work in his in- box. He got up and restlessly paced his new office, the swivel chair spinning about uselessly when he stood. Percy glared out the enchanted window.
It was raining inside the Minister's office again. Magical Maintenance had been very upset at the treatment of Mrs. Cattermole, The woman and her Maintenance worker husband were both very popular with the working class. Both of whom had abruptly disappeared the same day the criminal Potter had broken in to the Ministry. Potter had been blamed for the disappearance of the Cattermole's, but no one believed the Ministry's press announcements anymore.
Percy suddenly remembered that there had been tornadoes for the past week in all senior Department Heads offices run by Death Eaters. At least it wasn't raining inside his office, like it was in Yaxley's across the Hall. Percy supposed it must be because he hadn't done anything to upset Magical Maintenance unduly.
It really was better in the long run, - he reflected -, to keep the peace within the Ministry, to follow the regulations established under law and uphold them. He had never asked the impossible of any department and when they came to him for help getting what they needed for a project … Percy had a reputation of doing his bit to speed things along. He always followed the laws to the letter and was scrupulously fair in his dealings with the support staff.
He had never done anything at all to go against his sense of right and wrong (based, as it was on the law, which was much better than being based on a feeling of what was good and what wasn't - - the law was so much clearer, so much easier to follow, so much more organized and perfect). Rather, it was more correct to say; that he had never done anything that went against the legal right and wrong, that was, until today. Percy stood up and calmly, methodically walked around the room, giving his body something to do while he lost himself in thought.
Where did that thought come from? He had fulfilled his duties just as exactly and perfectly as he always had and always did. He had ensured that the evidence brought before Dolores Umbridge was factually correct, in order to that each accused member had a fair and impartial trial, as guaranteed to them by Wizarding law. He had in no way altered the evidence in a show of bias (aside from that unfortunate crumpling of Penelope Clearwater's questionnaire, which he hoped would not reflect badly on her). He had followed the letter of the law exactly in this matter. But, all the same, there was that sense of having done something wrong….
Percy mentally flipped through the annals of wizarding Law, he'd memorized them over the summer before his sixth year, in between writing long letters to Penelope and finishing his homework with exacting detail and precision, and had the perfect recall of someone who had not had a date in two years and spent his Friday nights reading case law.
Ah! That was what was bothering him. The Statute on Wand-Users of 1789, section one, clause two, sub-clause 'E', that explicitly stated that there should be no distinction between Muggleborn witches and wizards and witches and wizards that were born into pureblooded families in their right to own and use wands. The newest decree directly contradicted that and there was tons of case law that declared that the suspending of due-process, the right of legal counsel and judiciary review as it applies to capital criminal trials or of any crime that had a possibility of death or a life sentence in Azkaban … is totally unlawful. Besides which, Percy remembered, Pius Thicknesse had told him to stuff the law up his - well - - he wasn't going to think about that.
The main thing was that Pius didn't apparently care that under existing Law the entire Wizengamot must be convened in order to pass a new law or repeal old ones. He was the Minister of Magic and he was ruling by decree/executive order under the excuse of terrorist raids by the Dumbledore/Potter gang. Civil unrest was no reason to toss the rule of law under the bus! That was the bottom-line. He (Percy) was following a decree that hadn't officially become law. It wasn't law; it hadn't been passed and ratified according to procedure.
Therefore, Percy was aiding and abetting in breaking the law, since he was assisting in trials that were based on a decree which was directly contradicted a law. He froze. He was breaking the law. For the first time in his life, he was not following the law.
Percy felt suddenly and overwhelmingly furious; he was angry at himself for being duped, angry at the Minister of Magic who forced him to break the law, angry at everyone and everything that had led him to do this – horrible thing - - to knowingly break the law - - when he had walked away from his family almost directly in order to avoid it. He wanted to kick at something and settled for… 'accidentally-on-purpose' - knocking over his waste-paper bin before viciously throwing all of his rubbish back into it.
"I-hate-my-life," Percy snarled empathically, with each furious slam of crumpled paper. "For I'm Single handedly running this bloody …totally illegal… administration". Percy had found more paper to crumple up and pelt into the bin "-and-now-this; a stupid-and-flagrant-breach-of-criminal-law!"
Percy irritably hoped all the charms he'd put on his office for the sake of security would hold, though at this point he was beyond caring. He was furiously angry. If the Aurors showed up right now, if the Minister stormed in- Percy felt reckless enough too…"
Consequences be damned. Fudge, Dumbledore and Potter were well-known for breaking the rules and taking the law into their own hands, while Percy was all about understanding and upholding the law.
This was all - - this was …too much. He had suspected that he'd chosen the wrong side when Scrimgeour was murdered, when the Dementor's returned, when they'd started registering Muggleborn's - but it was far too late to turn back the clock …now. He'd chosen and no one would accept him back. Before he could even try, they would fling mashed parsnip (or turnip, or potato, or anything that George had at hand) at him - - and his dignity and pride would not permit him to 'go-on' after his overtures were so brutally rejected.
But… how could everything be so black and white? How could authority be so wrong? How could authority make him break the law? - How could he save Penelope and at least a dozen other people whose only crime had been being-born from Muggle stock; how could a mere Weasley save from death in a wizarding prison … the innocent …under the very noses of the newly faithful Dementor's? Something was seriously wrong with the state, with the whole government, for something this bad to happen, to 'by-design' make the laws of the land meaningless, to persecute people for crimes no greater than an accident of birth. Percy felt the fury flare up again and had the vicious urge to destroy something - - - He had to calm down. Percy forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. He had to be rational now. There was no need to let emotions control him and his actions. He seldom let them, except when he was too angry to remember anything but his fury.
Well, so, if he was breaking the law. What could he do about it? He as Junior in this administration as – NO - strike that thought - he was Assistant to the Minister of Magic. He was running the Ministry. If he left they would hunt him down- and he knew Dolores and Thicknesse to well to think he had any hope of survival once he'd been found out. Besides which, he didn't have anywhere to run. His family had always subconsciously hated him and no their hatred had come to the fore. No chance of being accepted back there….
He could… it was possible to try and… take the law back to what it originally should be. There was the chance that he could free the Muggleborn's in Azkaban. It was the right and just thing to do. They couldn't do anything to stop him … not really, that wasn't already illegal. Of course that hadn't stopped them before. He would probably be dead as a door nail, as soon as someone even remotely guessed what he was thinking. He could already see the tombstone and the funeral no one attended. Any way out of this situation, out of the Ministry, led to certain death.
Come to think of that, it wasn't quite such a terrifying prospect anymore. Percy balled up another draft of the memo on interdepartmental security and slammed it into the waste-paper bin so hard all the other papers exploded out of it. Percy felt darkly pleased.
Had the split with the family been worth it? - Percy looked around the office and frowned. It had been; up until Thicknesse and the Death Eater's took over things. It had shocked him, but he hadn't much missed his family. He couldn't say he was entirely displeased to be without Fred and George's constant pranks and bullying. The great achievement shadows cast by Bill and Charlie, had been challenging … the arguments with Ron and Ginny over the 'boy-who-lived'. Come to think-on-it, his entire family's ability to welcome Harry Potter as a surrogate son and reject him, Percy, as a viable part of the Weasley clan.
He certainly didn't miss how his parents always had that unspoken expectation for him to be perfect without actually ever noticing him, unless something went wrong and he had to fix it, or when Percy had forced them to pay attention to him. He did miss Bill, though. He missed the eldest of his siblings - the only brother- who had actually liked him and considered him an actual human being.
However, when Bill had swung by his flat, shortly after mum had, and just after Penny had sent him several owls with all of the books and other personal items he'd left at her place - - and Percy had been so bitterly angry and miserable - that everyone was trying to force him to Join the Dumbledore/Potter Kabbala of rules breakers. To go directly against his conscience and violate the law that he'd snapped at Bill and they'd gotten into a vicious row- the first vicious row Percy had ever had with Bill. As it turned-out, Bill neither spoke nor wrote to Percy after that; but what was done was done. No one in his family wanted anything to do with him and that was just fine... he was sure he didn't want anything to do with them either. But now that he'd been forced to acknowledge the horrible people he worked with and the evil they were doing; the whole reason for the split became null and void. He'd fallen into the very filth which he had tried so hard to avoid.
Percy was still too hurt to miss his family, though he vaguely realized he had wronged them just as much as they had wronged him. After a few moments of furious paper shredding, Percy grudgingly acknowledged that perhaps his job was no longer as important as his family. He didn't actually have friends to morn his passing, now that he thought of it. There had been Oliver Wood, but generally they didn't owl each other during training season, it ended up being very bad for Percy's owl Hermes, who Oliver would, in the midst of his Quidditch madness, often mistake for a fuzzy Quaffle. Therefore, Percy reasoned, it was Oliver's profession that had kept Percy from his friends… friend.
But Penelope….
Percy had to acknowledge that his job-obsession had cost him Penelope long-before now and being a perfect burrocrat was costing him Penelope again. This time it was worse, though, much worse, because Penny would go to Azkaban and there was the completely terrifying and utterly horrible thought that she could die there. Penelope had always been and probably would 'ever be' the only person to listen to him, to understand him, and, quite possibly, to be willing to go for a bit of a snog in an empty classroom just before her Charms class.
There had always been times when Percy felt invisible, where he smarted for having done all the work, and more, only to be completely ignored for doing so flawlessly - - which, Percy reasoned, was probably why promotions and honors meant so much to him and why he nearly killed himself with work each week- but with Penny he was never invisible. He was always someone with Penelope, because she had loved him and he had loved her devotedly. Wrong tense- Percy still loved her devotedly.
In light of recent events he decided that he didn't love his job nearly half as much anymore. And then Percy suddenly realized that he had also lost his joy in climbing the burrocratic ladder… entirely. There were some aspects he still enjoyed, like the new light and the very nice leather swivel chair and the lovely enchanted drawers of his desk, which made filing ever so much easier, but his favorite part of working in the Ministry had been abruptly ruined … when- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -had come back and taken over the Ministry - - from the dead or the grave or whatever state of being was anatomically appropriate.
Percy had greatly enjoyed running the Department of International Magical Cooperation with a fierce kind of joy that he was not even sure could be called joy. It went much deeper, felt much more primal. It was his job, his triumph- he brought the same level of attention to dealing with the French, the Spanish, the Americans, during countless governmental gala's and political functions - - as he did to regulating cauldron bottom thickness or broom speed and maneuverability.
He always took delight in being meticulous and… perhaps a little pedantic, but he did the job assigned him and drove himself to exceed the expectations anyone had ever had for him. And when a new treaty was signed, or a bill he had written made it into law, he felt he had created something lasting that would change the world for the benefit of all – the thought of making his mark gave him a heady delirium, that special joy so fierce and so powerful; that all other thoughts, all other emotions died away in that 'heart-swelling' pleasure.
Did he really have that feeling - - when he had received his promotion, earlier this morning? Percy, absently shredding up a wad of paper he had picked up off of the floor, forced himself out of his current situation to look critically, analytically at the events of the morning (only that morning? It felt far longer). He had been proud, pleased. There was that feeling of expansion – or – swelling, rather. He likened it to the behavior that led to the 'Bigheaded boy' badge he'd had until Hermione took pity on him and let him know so he could change it back.
It- it felt more like a swelling, truth be told, a momentary pleasure that flashed horizontal, like a nice sunset that faded away. It was not that vertical sweep of sheer joy that towered in his memory like ancient marble pillars. Percy tossed the half- shredded, incredibly crumpled bit of paper back and forth between his two hands. 'It was a matter of detail', Percy thought, 'mechanically analyzing the problem'. No one else really thought about these things (no one he knew, anyways, besides Penny), no one else (not even Penny) paid attention to detail as he did. No one saw how parts fitted into a whole, how each part had to work smoothly for everything else to even function, how much care one had to pay to each seemingly insignificant detail because things often broke because something minor was missing or broken.
Perhaps he wasn't as popular with people as little Ronnie was, not even Bill had been as approachable as a 'prefect' as Ronnie had been. Such a helpful 'big-brother' figure to the first years that even Percy had felt a-tad jealous. Percy had striven to be respected, first as Prefect and then as Head Boy… but being aloof hadn't worked so well; for the first years had actually feared him. Aloof and respected shouldn't automatically translate to unapproachable… Percy bemoaned. Granger personified unapproachable and she had been just as inflexible with the rules as a prefect as Percy had been. But she had Ron to offset her anti-social tendencies and soften her inflexibility. - It wasn't fair. - Percy certainly didn't want to be nearly worshiped like a demi-god as Dumbledore and Potter had been. Nor had he ever wanted to be the class clown like the twins. All he asked was respect and all he had gotten was ridicule.
Ron's unspoken talent was being approachable; it gained him understated popularity that he didn't have to work at. A talent that Percy acknowledged he'd never possess. He could not command anyone's attention for extended periods of time, but he understood how things worked, he could manipulate the minuscule details to a particular outcome. It was better to know how to run something, he thought, moodily, than to have the credit for running it. It didn't stop him from wanting the credit, of course, for wanting the positions of power where he could and did control all the details he saw neglected and hated to see neglected. It angered him that people didn't care about those sorts of things, how they ignored the importance of each part. But it really was strange how people in positions of power forgot the details-
The details… Percy tossed the piece of parchment into the fire and watched it shrivel. Truthfully, no one but him ever paid attention to the details in the Ministry. Then, perhaps… a plan unfurled itself in Percy's mind and he shivered involuntarily at the thoughts swirling around in his head. No one really understood the law like he did, after all, no one- saw -the mistakes he thought were painfully obvious and no one else really noticed the discrepancies….
Theoretically, it was entirely possible to fool the Ministry. Very few people were above him- the Heads of the various Departments, Dolores Umbridge, and the Minister himself, but that was it. Percy knew each of his superiors thoroughly, down to how they took his tea (generally, because in meetings among his superiors Percy was the most junior, he had to go fetch tea for everyone else). They all saw the big picture very easily, they saw the whole of what everyone worked to achieve, but they never noticed if a detail or three, went wrong.
Take Ludo Bagman for instance, who failed to notice when one of his employees had gone missing for months. Just look at the messy administration Percy kept forcing through their paces until they knew how to file and how to spell 'interdepartmental' correctly. There were no longer any Mr. Crouches in the Ministry. No one took the same care with their work; no one saw the mistakes that Percy did. Percy then sat behind his desk in the swivel chair and idly spun his wand around as he considered things.
He was an extremely accomplished wizard, after all. He had gotten every O.W.L. and every N.E.W.T. it was possible to receive. Memory charms were not so difficult after all, and if he fixed the memories of the guards at Azkaban, then the plan possibly, just possibly could work... It was difficult to do with his wand, though. He had helped draft some of the new security measures. If only the Muggleborn's still had their wands- he could use one and then give it to the Muggleborn who would Apperate away and go into hiding... making his memory charms untraceable.
This was surely madness. He, Percy, break the law again? He, Percy, Assistant to the Minister, go against the Ministry? He couldn't pit himself against the entire Ministry of Magic. That was an incredibly stupid idea. People were arrested and dying for much more minor crimes each day! Look at Martha. It was suicidal to go against the Ministry. Not to mention particularly damaging to his career. Ah, but then came the argument that he no longer cared about his career, followed by the argument that if he took people illegally put in prison … out of prison, he was not breaking the law. He was fixing a miscarriage of justice and actually following the law, unlike the rest of the ministry put in place to uphold the law.
Umbridge's toad-like (disrespectful, but true) face popped up into the flames of his office floo/fireplace and Percy flicked his wand, neatly sending all the wads of paper back into the bin.
"Are you there, Percy?"
Percy stood and walked to the fireplace, straightening his tie. "Ah! Dolores! How may I be of assistance?"
"We are quite finished," Umbridge said, with yet another smile that sickened him. "You will escort the twelve prisoners to Azkaban, via the Floo network. Is that quite understood?"
Percy gave a short bow. "Yes indeed, Senior Undersecretary."
A swarm of questions popped into Percy's mind- the details, all the unmentioned details….
"Shall I make contact with the wardens?" Percy asked. "And what will happen to the wands we confiscated from the… new prisoners?"
"Of course", she said wickedly. "We put the wands in a sealed box for the warden's pleasure. When the prisoners misbehave the wardens take out the wands and break them … right in front of their eyes", Umbridge laughed. "Clever isn't it! I am so very fond of the idea."
Percy forced a smile and added a bleak, 'ahaha'. He never really had gotten the hang of laughing. He couldn't really understand the point of most comedy, actually. He tried, he had certainly tried, but like popularity … humor was another of life's details that he couldn't really grasp - - and it infuriated him as much as it wounded him; he never could accept the practical jokes his family played on him as 'good fun' as a result.
"I shall let you hop to it, then. I'll have an escort waiting." Her face disappeared. Percy absently tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and knelt on the rug. "Azkaban," he enunciated, pushing his glasses up his nose before sticking his face into the fire. When he opened his eyes again, Percy looked into a stone room very sparsely decorated (except for a few stuffed, hanging heads of dead animals on the wall and a tattered curtain over the window), with a man in a black room leaning back in an old wooden chair, his boots propped up on the edge of a very battered wooden table. Percy felt an instinctive twinge of dislike.
"Walden Macnair?" he called.
The man swung his feet off of the table. "Speaking… and who are you?"
"Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Minister of Magic," Percy said pompously, feeling the inherent flash of pride in the new title.
The man twisted his black moustache. "I'm on duty with Mulicber." His tone implied the question, 'Should I get him?'
Percy felt another twinge of discomfort. Mulicber a long time Death Eater had been a prisoner in Azkaban a year ago and now he ran the place. "It is not necessary to summon him. I shall be quiet soon … personally escorting some prisoners over to Azkaban."
"How many?" Macnair asked.
With a glance at the heads on the walls and a certain chill of foreboding, Percy remembered his plan and wondered just how much he cared about saving his own life. What was the value of his life to another's? Would he mind disgracing himself for the chance that a few would live? But then he committed himself to the plan. It was the right thing to do- not legal - on the surface, but every apparently legal action of the past few months had not been proper law at all, they had controverted the very foundations of wizarding society…. He suddenly realized that he had taken an uncomfortable pause and so he cleared his throat, made a decision, and said, as pompously as he possibly could, "There were a few unfortunate accidents today. We only have two prisoners that still need to be watched."
Macnair smiled nastily. "… and what exactly happened to the others?"
Percy gave him a severe look. "Very well; if you must know, the Dementor's got a little … overly excited in the courtroom, broke-away from their handlers and …fed. I will see you shortly. We will Floo over." He pulled his head out of the fire and brushed the soot out of his neatly parted hair. He could feel the blood rush through his veins, his heart pound in the sudden, all-encompassing fear. His head suddenly ached and it hurt to breathe. His whole body seemed to remind him that he was alive, reminded him what it felt like to feel, to breathe, to live.
What had he been thinking? What was he doing? - - He was breaking the law. The thought shattered in his mind and Percy sat, immobilized on the rug. He had broken the law. He had lied to a Ministry-appointed official, had deliberately mucked-up the long established process of incarceration. Percy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The law in itself was good- it had to be. It was absolute and detailed and was put in place by those in authority to protect everyone from their baser impulses. It was what made the world make sense. - - But, Percy then thought, clenching his fists and almost breaking his glasses in the process, the world had not made sense from some time. And these new executive-orders, masquerading as law … fundamentally contradicted by other laws, and as a result the framework of the world, the entire structure that held up the magic and the witches and wizards began to crumble away under the weight of these contradictions, threatening to send wizarding society into ruin.
Perhaps, he thought, just perhaps, the Thicknesse laws were so far unlawful - they needed to be directly apposed. The old laws had to be upheld, supplemented by the new, or revised entirely based on principles so old even Merlin had known of them. Percy felt frightened at the enormity of his thoughts. Breaking the law, breaking the rules- there wasn't any excuse for it, was there? There couldn't be. But - Percy thought, still arguing the point in his head; No one individual should be making law because that was tyranny – and any dictatorship was horribly wrong for the people it oppressed. In spite of all its inefficiencies; the Wizengamot was the voice of the people. If any tyranny contradicted the will of a free people then the tyrant (Thicknesse) had to be brought down. Rule by whim never made sense and couldn't bring order to any society – especially if all laws made by the tyrant are rendered meaningless. So in conclusion; the new Thicknesse laws weren't actually laws… at all -
Percy clenched his fists so hard the rims of his glasses cut into his palms, abruptly bringing himself out of his purely cerebral inner world into the physical world in which he had to move. He had made a choice. He had picked a path. It was time to follow it. Was he a Gryffindor or not? He adjusted his appearance in the mirror on the wall and picked up his wand. "You're a brave, talented wizard and you can do this," he told the mirror.
"Of course you are," the mirror said, snidely.
'The mirror was going to have to go', Percy thought to himself.
OoOoOo
Chapter 3
OoOoOo
Percy stepped out of the elevator, waited for Eloise to take his wand and then muttered, "Martha's in Azkaban."
Eloise gaped at him in shock, his wand falling from her fingers. They both knelt down to pick it up.
"Why?" Eloise breathed.
"Her work wasn't up to standard," Percy said, looking around quickly. "Eloise, I have often thought that you would be best suited to the security detail assigned to the - Floo network."
Eloise clearly had no idea what he was trying to say. "Very kind of you, but what is this about Martha?"
Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you were on Floo detail I would be so happy to share more details of Miss Austen's wrongdoings and imprisonment with you." - - Really, Hufflepuffs were so thick.
"What does being on the 'Floo detail' have to do with Martha?"
Percy gave her a long- suffering look. "All right Eloise, I will say this very plainly. I am going to Azkaban to deliver prisoners." - - She looked at him blankly again. - - "Via the Floo network," - - No change in expression - - "Which is how I will be returning." He said slowly
"And if I was on Floo detail… oh… I can cover for you!" Eloise looked at him in dawning comprehension. "Yes, I'll switch with Alexander- he can stand the Dementor's better than I can anyways. I keep remembering how I cursed my nose off when I was younger." She shivered while handing back Percy's wand without checking it.
Percy felt immediately heartened. He had noticed Eloise had forgotten to check Martha's wand whenever Martha had departed some particularly long winded bit of gossip. This was a good thing to keep in mind. Percy took his wand, tucked it back in his sleeve, and strode down the corridor, trying to ignore the crying witches and wizards around him.
Umbridge, with her- 'cat Patronus' -dancing around her, smiled hugely at Percy. "Ah, Percy, there will be two Dementor's will accompany you, along with Jugson. Here you are." She handed him the box of wands and Percy took it gingerly; knowing that Jason Jugson was yet another Death Eater and former inmate of Azkaban. The box was almost dripping with confined magic. "And here is the paperwork. Have Walden Macnair (the High warden) sign that he's received all the prisoners and their wands- I am sure you are well aware of proper procedure."
Percy nodded and tucked the paperwork into the inside pocket of his robes.
"Of course they are in chains - I do not think you will need to remove them, but if Fredric Mulicber greets you in the reception room, the chains are to come off and return with you. A simple 'finite incantatem' will suffice to unlock them." Percy tried not to look at the glowing blue handcuffs and the chains that linked all the prisoners together. He had the sinking suspicion that they shocked the wearer if said wearer moved too quickly.
Yang Yaxley currently the 'Department Head of law enforcement' came over with a small, twitchy wizard that Percy had never seen before. The wizard grinned at Percy and introduced himself. "I'm Jason Jugson I run the snatcher section for the Ministry. Let's get these Mudblood's off to where they deserve, eh?"
"Quite," Percy said. He turned to see Penny glaring at him, her shackled arms around an elderly witch who sobbed uncontrollably… possibly a relative. Percy looked away and stared at the ceiling as he walked over to the elevator.
He found Jugson next to him, still grinning greasily. "Pity we can't have a little… fun, eh?" He pushed the button to level eight.
"Fun?" Percy asked, as if it were an alien concept. It was, come to think of it. He watched the prisoners pile in, the Dementor's ghosting along behind them like the horrible specters they were.
"Yeah;" Jugson lowered his voice, which was entirely needless due to the level of hysterical sobbing in the elevator. "That one with the blue eyes - the quiet, contained one. I bet it'd be a pleasure to hear her scream."
Percy felt himself flush with rage. He pressed his lips together and tried to see past the haze of anger. Self-contained, self-possessed, he managed to look relatively calmly at Jugson. Curiously, without a hint of the rage he felt he said: "You… get your jollies from something like that?"
"It's a thrill, I tell you," Jugson informed him, with a leering sort of grin. Like most people, he just wanted to monologue. Percy decided to keep quiet and deal with it. "A well-placed Cruciatus Curse has its merits. Yes, I remember the first time I saw how… "
Percy tuned him out and pressed his lips together. 'Focus on something else'. He said to himself. 'Elevator rides were always an adventure, but… really, Dementor's? There had to be a more suitable way of transporting Dementor's. Having them on the elevator seemed a mockery of the daily commute'.
"Our floor," Jugson said interrupting Percy's ponderings and then the Death Eater shoved his way roughly through the prisoners, which caused a noticeable increase of muffled screams and hysterics.
Jugson's presence was unexpected and thoroughly unpleasant glitch in Percy's latent plan. Originally, he had thought to step through the fire with the paperwork and, while Macnair initialed seventeen different places, stunned Mulicber and then whirled around to stun Macnair. It wasn't really a good plan, but Percy was not used to rule-breaking and had little to no idea how to go about it. It had really taken some firm decision-making to attempt an attack on an opponent who wasn't prepared and didn't have a wand. What was he to do now? Jugson's mere presence was bad enough, but his homicidal tendencies – wait…hold on… that's it! - …His homicidal tendencies... - - Percy then managed to skirt his way past the Dementor's, with only a vague flicker of a horrible recurring nightmare he'd had as a child: 'about some man who'd broken in and threatened to kill his entire family if he didn't take good care of his pet rat, Scabbers,' - - shaking his head to clear the vision he approached Jugson.
"I was thinking," Percy said carefully, "that I should go in first to get the paperwork out of the way. After five minutes, you could send the prisoners through, along with the Dementor's, before following yourself. That would give me ample time to, ah... get rid of Macnair and Mulicber, and we could have the room and the prisoners alone - but, understand this clearly if anyone asks. As a high- ranking Ministry official, once I get the papers signed and departed, that will leave the prisoners in the sole control of your fine self. I will not be and was not present for the moment of transfer because I flooed back to file the paperwork. Whatever 'fun' happens after I'm gone… I had no part of … you understand plausible deniability - - Don't you?"
Jugson's eyes gleamed. "Entirely; you will not see a thing."
Percy nodded, feeling sick again and hiding it. "Not a thing." He walked quickly over to the line of floo fireplaces, used to travel all over wizarding England so Jugson could not see Percy's look of complete disgust and took a pinch of powder from the vase on the mantle. "Azkaban!" he cried, throwing the powder in and stepping into the flames. He stepped carefully into the stone room he had seen earlier and took a moment to brush the soot off of his robes and the top of the box of wands.
"Weasley?" asked Macnair.
"Indeed," Percy said crisply, falling back easily on a pompous demeanor. He took the documents out from his inside pocket with a flourish and put them on the table.
"Paperwork?" Macnair asked dismally. "I finished the roster of prisoners for Dolores."
"Indeed," Percy repeated, pulling out one of the ever-present self- inking quills in his breast pocket. He tucked the roster away, keeping Eloise Midgen in mind. Very pompously: "Now, you will note that the sheet says 'twelve', which is for the purposes of paperwork and mostly for the benefit of anyone from the Prophet who looks into the matter. We at the Ministry-" with a very smug tone indeed "- do need to keep things... tidy. It would be very careless to admit what had happened to our other prisoners. As for the last two..." Percy cleared his throat and looked down his nose at the surroundings. "Well, they have obviously seen too much. Jugson has volunteered to... help them forget this day's events. If you could loan him this room for the space of a half-hour, the Ministry would remember your services - and the Ministry 'pays back in full' such remembered favors."
Macnair looked rather cheerful at this.
"Sign here, here, next page, there, there, initial here and here, sign there, next page, there, there, there, initial here, final signature- thank you." Percy fanned the paper to dry the ink and then tucked it back in his pocket.
"No chance Jugson would need a little... assistance?"
Percy suddenly hated Macnair and Jugson and the Ministry and everyone he had been working for since Scrimgeour death. It was with extreme difficulty that he hid the sudden, utter flash of loathing behind a peeved expression. "Ask Jugson. He's being entirely too authoritarian about the entire business. Mind you, you did not hear that from me. - I daresay, though I of course said no such thing, that there will be something left in here for you to play with after a half-hour has passed unless Jugson is horrifically prodigal with the powers bestowed upon him." Percy sniffed to express his derision and checked his pocket watch. "Jugson shall be here shortly with our two remaining prisoners, so, if you do not mind...?"
Macnair walked out and shut the door just as the first Dementor and the first prisoner stepped through the fire place. Percy found it fascinating that the blue chains (must be made out of light, no other reason to glow like that and send out sparks) extended into the fire and blazed like the tips of flame. He waited silently and impassively as all the prisoners straggled through, but walked up to Jugson as he and the last Dementor stepped into the room.
"The room is yours for the next half- hour," Percy informed him, taking him over to beside the fireplace. "Try not to make too much of a mess. I shall leave you to your fun now. Ah, the Floo powder was…" Right behind Jugson's head; exactly according to plan. Percy shook his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at Jugson, who glanced behind him to see the Floo powder. Percy thought, 'Stupefy!' furiously.
Jugson stiffed abruptly before keeling over like a wooden statue, which, for no reason Percy could determine, made the nearest few prisoners scream and increase their hysterical sobbing.
"Oh do stop with that nonsense!" Percy demanded, seeing the Dementor's swoop closer, their mouths opening. Happy thought, happy thoughts … god damnit, did he even have any happy thoughts?
His letter along with the Head Boy badge- 'Every teacher and staff member was unanimous in their recommendations of you for this position, and we know that no one could fulfill such a duty as well as you. Congratulations on your overly deserved recognition.'- his mother sobbing and hugging him to her chest- his father beaming- "Oh how proud we are of you!" from them both- Penny's own letter, ink smudged and so excited for him Percy loved it despite, no, because of its illegibility- a feeling of finally, finally belonging...
"Expecto Patronum," Percy bellowed, pointing his wand at the Dementor's. A silvery hawk burst from the tip and swooped down on the Dementor's, beak open in a soundless screech and talons aimed at what would have been a face. The Dementor's drew back into the shadows of the office; the hawk flying 'back and forth' keeping them was so much easier now.
Percy then pulled Jugson away from the fire and put out the flames on Jugson's robes with a bit of water from his wand tip. 'Repairo,' he thought, mending the scorched bit of pompously - - while at the same time saying: "Everyone please calm your-selves." … However; No one seemed to listen, except for Penelope, who stood perfectly still and openly stared at Percy with unfettered… astonishment. - - Several people then broke into hysterical shrieks that Percy was going to kill them all, he was a Death Eater, he was Voldemort in disguise, etc. Percy was momentarily distracted (almost amused, truth be told) when one young witch began screaming that Percy was the next Dark Lord and planning to overthrow Voldemort and Percy found the idea comical for he was, in his own small way, attempting to overthrow Voldemort and the Ministry.
He also found it interesting to think of himself as a Dark Lord - - he was sure that not many tyrants had freckles and red hair and would insist on having his numerous 'Evil Minions' correctly follow his detailed filing system - - besides; he had read in- Prefects Who Gained Power - that there were certain similar flaws and fatal mistakes the Evil Overlord- types made. He saw these mistakes being played-out day-in and day-out by the Death Eaters placed in key-positions in the Ministry. He'd seen a memo (was it just-today?) which stated that efficiency of all Ministry departments was in steep decline. It was an internal memo not for publication, and only his promotion today had allowed him to see it.
He found it interesting that now he had 'switched sides' the evidence that he had been working for really evil people seemed to just come out of the woodwork. Everywhere he looked now there was corruption and hate for Muggleborn's - - and the proof of this civil-war of genocide; was the witch that was screaming into his ear that he could never take away her freedom, at which point Percy decided that it was much more important to make sure he was not deaf than to compile a mental list of; Things He Would Do As an Evil Overlord.
"Alright, fine, go ahead and wail; like a ruddy-banshee," Percy snapped at the witch, who did so. He shot her an irritated look before taking Jugson's wand and sweeping over to the table. "Jugson's supposed to be torturing you all anyway." This declaration actually doubled the wails as someone misheard Percy and screamed loudly; that Jugson was going to begin torturing them. This led to a very heated debate among the prisoners, that Percy mentally labeled as 'What the Hell Is Going On?' wherein no one managed to establish anything beyond the very convincing opening argument of: 'Oh God They Were All Going To Die'.
As everyone but Penny continued with hysterics, he sat quietly at the table and studied the box intently. The spell-work was needlessly complex, with each counter-spell and jinx having to be performed in exact reverse order or the person breaking the charms would be blasted out of their seat… how irritating.
"Percy!"
Penelope's voice; hearing it made Percy look-up at her - and nervously pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. "Yes, ah, Miss... Clearwater? How may I be of assistance?"
She slammed her book onto the table to try and get everyone to shut up. It was a very convincing argument to end the part of the screaming match being carried out around them, though not the screaming being carried out in farther parts of the room. "Percy, what are you doing? Are you honestly going to turn us in? And if so … why did you stun that other wizard?"
Percy felt irritated. "I should think my actions were self-explanatory; Miss Clearwater. I am breaking you all out of Azkaban. Don't bother stopping the wailing. It provides a more than adequate cover and I am quite used to working with obscene amounts of background noise. I did grow up with Fred and George … after all."
"You... are?" Penelope looked shocked, uncertain and hopeful. "Honestly, Percy, you - - breaking the law?"
"I am not," Percy informed her crisply, "the laws that incarcerated you all were … 'right from the off'; not lawfully created and therefore are: null-and-void. Secondarily; so far as I know, it's criminal to send the innocent to prison." He turned his attention back to the box, trying to recall what Bill said about counter jinxes and spells. Percy put his own wand back in his sleeve and picked up Jugson's, to examine it and determine its usefulness in breaking curses. Judson's wand was much shorter than his own - and he rather disliked its greasy feel, though it seemed perfectly adequate. "Oh, finite incantatem," he said, pointing at the chains. With another flick of the wand, he made the room impenetrable.
He closed his eyes in thought and then slowly began to unravel the fine cocoon of spells surrounding the box. It was not incredibly difficult once he pinpointed which spells being employed. They were all fairly elementary and unimaginative, though they were time- consuming. Percy was quite dismayed to discover that a quarter of an hour had passed by the time he flicked the box open. He suddenly felt oddly enervated and weak, and still a-tad nauseated from when Jugson had noticed Penelope. Then abruptly; he became aware of a change in the people around him. He glanced around and noticed that the hysterics had died down to a few muffled sobs from the most distraught of the prisoners; everyone else appeared to be quietly focused on him.
"Try standing on the table," Penelope suggested. "Everyone will see and hear you." She was smiling at him and Percy tried to smile in return; he was out of practice, however, and found that it was oddly difficult.
"It's alright." He raised his voice and stood, awkwardly moving back his chair. "Please form an orderly queue to get your wands; they are on the table here. Once you receive them, go over to the window- I shall open it and then levitate you down to ground level. If you cannot do it yourself – I will help you, once outside the Castle - - Apparate away quickly. You cannot Apparate or Dis-Apparate inside this building and do 'Be careful'. Please limit your outside contacts to immediate family as fully Muggle family members should be relatively safe from arrest. I suggest that you gather anyone (spouses and children) that are Muggleborn's like yourselves and go into hiding in another country, because, if just one of you is found, I believe I shall be executed for what I'm doing." He thought up of a joke and bleakly added, "I am somewhat attached to living. Ahaha."
There were a couple of weak laughs in return
Unexpectedly, Penelope took Percy's hand and pulled him aside. Percy glanced down at their hands and noticed the raw, reddish welt around Penelope's wrists. "When did you get those?" he asked.
"From the handcuffs," Penelope looked at him searchingly, curiously, her hand still in his. As she peered up at him, Percy suddenly realized how tall he was. It was an odd sort of revelation and he further realized that he had worn himself out, doing this. Ordinarily he would not have thought of something so stupid.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Isn't it enough that I am?" Percy asked uncertainly.
"Ends and means are equally important."
"Very well", Percy said as he cleared his throat, the back of his neck very red. - - "I, er- Ididitforyounowpleaselet'sdropitandmoveon." - - He made an effort to break free of Penelope and go over and see to the wand distribution, but she wouldn't let him go. Penelope had somehow grown a great deal stronger in the years Percy hadn't seen her. St. Mungo's must have very determined patients who disliked being held down for treatment. She looked surprised as he did, though, when she spoke. "You did, Percy?"
"And because it was the right thing to do," Percy added on quickly, having just come to the realization himself. With an effort Percy forced himself to say, however stiffly, "It is sometimes permissible to break the law if the law was broken to begin with."
Penelope stared at him in mild-shock.
Percy felt the need to explain himself: "The laws… aren't working anymore. Every day I read through new executive orders pretending to be laws that are clearly contradict by the old, existing statues. The Thicknesse government is ruling by decree, which is unlawful, deliberately going around or just ignoring the Wizengamot role in law making. There's one law written back in 1789 (still in force) - influenced by French laws and their Muggle counterparts, no doubt- that explicitly states that there should be no distinction between Muggleborn witches and wizards and witches and wizards that were born into pureblooded families. It's in section one - clause two … sub-clause 'E' -"
Percy broke off to see everyone staring at him still. In his best Head Boy tones he then declared: "Have your wands?" - And everyone nodded. "Good… Now please form an orderly queue by the window." He was not entirely sure whether to feel offended or not when someone asked what he wanted in return. He glared at them from behind his glasses and they all wore the vague, guilty, confused look of prisoners set free. They really didn't know what to do.
"As I would prefer not to die," Percy continued, in a tone as no-nonsensical as possible. "Please do follow instruction, jump up on the window sill and levitate down, remember; little to no communication with the outside world, go into hiding immediately. Try heading to the French Ministry or the magical American Ministry; you'll find them both here in London. I read a memo today stating that they will be issuing official statements against the British Ministry tomorrow, so you all will be safe there. If you can't Apparate please ask someone who can to help you - - and thank you all for your cooperation."
Penelope was the last to leave. Percy was in a minor panic because he had five minutes before Macnair would come back in - five minutes to clean up and modify Jugson's memory and get back to the Ministry and look like he'd been busy at his desk filing paperwork or setting fire to badly written memos for the past half-hour instead of breaking the law and imperiling his own life - - and he felt he ought to say something to Penelope but he didn't know what.
"You really haven't changed as much as most people think you did," Penelope said softly, before standing on the tips of her shoes and kissing him on the cheek.
Percy took her free hand (Penny grasped her wand so tightly in her other that Percy was quite sure it could meld with her skin). "I realize this is probably the worst possible time, but you know I'm not… good at this… sort of thing, as I suppose you know, so, ah… if I don't die a horrible death tomorrow or - or something, which seemed just yesterday to be a-tad farfetched…."
"Why farfetched? Are you planning on doing this again?"
Percy flushed. "In a different way, maybe."
Penelope smiled at him again and Percy suddenly felt happy for the first time in ages. "Take the book I left on the table. My flat numbers on the inside cover. You may find some books to help you there."
This really hadn't been the way he wanted this conversation to go. "Er, Penelope-"
"You can call me Penny again, Percy. I'll be in France, it's the best place for me - after all - it's my mother's native language" She pressed her fingertips to his lips when he tried to speak again. "I know, no contact, I'll be careful. I'll get someone in the French Ministry to contact mum. Good bye Percy and good luck. You're wonderfully brave." She replaced her fingertips with her lips for one all-too-brief moment that brought up memories of abandoned classrooms before she disappeared out the window.
Percy decided to kick one of the chairs over to express his general frustration with the world in general. He'd just meant to ask her to keep him in mind while she was hiding in France, while he was risking his life… and his limbs; his sanity. And (oh dear oh dear oh dear) his career.
Really, asking her if they could get back together again was not such a terrible request. But no, he was probably doomed to a loveless life bereft of snogging (which Penelope had quite convinced him that he liked, back at the beginning of his fifth year), except for a Dementor's Kiss when the Ministry caught up with him for his current spate of rule breaking. He then decided he might as well trash the office in the interests of verisimilitude and did so with gusto, before checking his watch, grabbing the book Penelope had left him, and hurriedly propping Jugson in a corner. He held Jugson's wand to Jugson's head and hissed, "Obliviate!"
The cover-story came to him easily. "Percy Weasley left and you set about torturing the prisoners. Your disturbed mind can fill in the details. You accidentally killed all of them. Shocked that you murdered all twelve people, you transfigured the bodies into bits of broken wood and, having cast all the wands on the fire, blasted apart their box so that you would hide the evidence. You do not want the security detail to check your wand so you will go home and then practice transfiguring your teacup so that no one sees what you did with the bodies, since Weasley told you, just before he left, that he could cover everything but outright murder by you … but if you killed them you were completely on your own. Now, enervate!"
Percy shoved Jugson's wand back into his hand and then dashed over to the fireplace. He grabbed far too much Floor powder out of the jar, flung it into the fireplace and hissed, "British Ministry of Magic!" He tumbled through just as Jugson rubbed his eyes and began to stand. - - And thus it came to pass, that Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Minister of Magic himself, and the most highly ranking twenty-year-old in any sort of government in the wizarding world, tumbled head over heels out of the fireplace, knocking over the Head of the Department of Mysteries, who then caused a strange sort of domino effect the line of people waiting to go through the security check.
Percy had lost his glasses in his tumble and groped for them blindly.
"You alright?" Eloise Midgen whispered, walking down the line to him. At least, Percy supposed it was Eloise Midgen. All he saw was a blob.
"Getting to be so," Percy replied, giving up entirely and summoning his glasses off the floor with his wand. He picked up the book Penelope had left him and tucked it into his pocket, where it brushed against the roster of prisoners. "Do you have a minute?"
OoOoOoOoOoOo
Lights come up for it's the first of several intermissions.
End transmission
