Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its respective universe and characters are copyrighted and owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Bro. Studios. I am not making any profit off of this fanfic, and am doing this solely for my enjoyment. Don't sue me, I'm a college student.
WARNING: OOTP SPOILERS!!
Author's notes: I was reading through a theories section on some Harry Potter site one night. I can't remember if it was or , but that is neither here nor there. Anyway, I came across a theory that the letter Percy wrote in OotP was not a letter of warning about Harry's insanity. It was actually a letter of warning about Umbridge's takeover, increased interference, etc. So, I jumped on the idea and started writing. This fic should take you up through the writing of the letter. I'm not sure if it'll go beyond there. To tell the truth, I'm not even sure when the next chapter will be.
Chapter I: A Letter
My life has suddenly become very hard. That is a bit of an understatement, but I have always believed in starting a story simply. I have no clear idea as to who might be reading this, so I am afraid that I must ...ah, what is the word I am looking for? It's a muggle term, I do know that. They certainly do have a knack for naming things. Dumb-up, perhaps? No, that is definitely not it. Dumb-sideways? Dumb-down? Yes! Dumb-down. I must dumb-down and idiot proof this as much as possible. So, for those of you who are at least near my I.Q. will either have to bear with me or merely skip ahead to more juicy bits. As for the rest of you, I will try to explain everything in as much detail as possible. Alas, the woes of talented and gifted...
Though I hate to admit it, I thought that after being Head Boy at Hogwarts things would come easily for me after that. But like I have implied in the first line, it has not. It is just the opposite in fact. I would never have imagined that even writing a letter to Ronald would be so hard. Number one, he wants little to do with me. Number two, it may blow my cover. And number three, no telling what will happen if he shows it to someone else.
Mum and Dad want nothing to do with me. My other brothers and even little Ginevra think worse. I know they have always thought...oh, how was it that Fred put it once? Oh! That I was a Apompous arse licking donkey." But now it is even worse. What is even more - I really must find another word for worse. I feel as though I am getting a mite repetitive. Ahem. What is even more horrid, is that I do what I do by my own choosing. I may lament at my current state of affairs but I must always remember that being in the Order was my own choice. Dumbledore personally picked me. I am truly quite honored. It just never occurred to me how difficult this would be.
Perhaps if I tell you how I came to this sad state of affairs, you would better understand my position.
When term ended for my brothers and sister last year, I was still in a fair bit of trouble about old Mr. Crouch. I know I really should have realized that he was being controlled by Lord Voldemort - wait, scratch that. If I am to succeed I need to at least pretend to believe what the Ministry spouts - that he was slowly slipping into madness. But please, he practically handed the reins to me! Was I to say no and end all that? Of course not! I'm glad you see it my way. Anyway, I received a very strange letter.
Dear Percival Weasley,
I have been following your work at school and your budding career in the Ministry of Magic very closely. I am impressed with your skills and would like to meet you. If you are interested, please come to the Leaky Cauldron at 7 tonight. If Tom doesn't recognize you, tell him you are there to see Brian. He will take you to me.
Hoping to see you there,
B.D.
I was very intrigued to say the least. According to many in the Ministry, my "budding career" was not worth the price of dung beetles. I had figured that my career in the Ministry was over because of my ... oversight. In fact, I was ready to turn in my resignation rather than face the shame of an inquiry. Well, I am certain that they would not have accepted my resignation had I actually done so. I am certain that at the most, they would have transferred me to a lesser department. Something like Misuse of Muggle Artifacts or some such nonsense - pardon me, I get carried away sometimes.
Having nothing to lose, I decided to give it a try. Besides, many respectable people went to the Leaky Cauldron for meetings or just to take a load off. I was overage by two years so it's not like I would be getting any suspicious looks or what-have-you. You might think me over-cautious, but a pending inquiry and the results thereof is enough to make anyone a little jumpy.
I arrived at the Leaky Cauldron at quarter 'til 7 o'clock. If I am anything, I am always early. Plus, I wanted to make a good impression. I wore my best set of dark maroon robes. It had a fancy little gold trim on the bottom and at the cuffs. A bowler hat was tipped rakishly to the side to give me a sort of debonair look. The Leaky Cauldron was filled with the usual sort. Dark shady types in the corner and people like Dedalus Diggle laughing away near the fire. I slid my bowler a little lower on the left side of my face. I really did not feel like chatting with Dedalus Diggle. The man is a complete buffoon and I really did not want my presence announced to the room. As I have already said, anyone would be jumpy in my shoes. I nodded to a few other people that recognized me, but continued in a business-like manner to Tom. He gave me one of his trademark toothless grins and motioned me to a barstool.
"Ah! Percy, m'boy!" He said loudly as if we were old acquaintances, so much for keeping a low profile, "How've you been? I haven't seen you in a 'coon's age or more. What'll it be?"
I quietly asked for a butterbeer. There was no need to meet Brian drunk.
"Ah yes, y'never were one for the hard stuff were ya?"
I could feel my ears going red as he passed me the butterbeer. Suddenly Tom leaned forward and covered the motion by wiping the area in front of me.
"Play along, lad," He said in a soft, serious tone, "We need to make sure no one's following you."
I stared at him with surprise as he suddenly went back to the role of the hapless bartender. Why would anyone be following me? Perhaps it was not such a bad idea to be over-cautious at times. It made me think that my mysterious benefactor was indeed high profile and definitely worth my time.
"Got business in Diagon Alley, I presume?" He asked as I sipped my butterbeer.
"Er, yes, yes," I set the butterbeer down trying to get into the swing of things. "But I seem to have got in too late. Most of the shops will be closing soon, I reckon. How about a room for the night?"
Apparently I had said the right thing because Tom gave me the merest suggestion of a wink.
"Sure, lad, sure. When you finish up that butterbeer, I'll find you a nice room," Tom turned away at that and I continued to drink by butterbeer.
I tried to look around at my fellow patrons but I couldn't do more than glance to the side since it would have been far too obvious. I gave up and finished my drink instead. All glancing to the side had done was make my eyes hurt. I put the payment for the butterbeer on the table next to my empty mug. At the sound of coins, Tom turned around.
"Right, this way Master Weasley," He said in a teasing voice.
Tom led me through several hallways and up a flight of stairs. I had never realized that the tavern was that big! I wondered where he was taking me and if there was a shorter route. Then it occurred to me that Tom might be trying to shake a shadow. I looked around as if trying to note the way to my room. I didn't see anyone, but I suppose that our shadow could have been under an invisibility cloak. Personally, I think I would have known if we were being followed. Anyway, that's past now and I must continue with the series of events that lead to my present situation. We stopped outside Number 12 and Tom unlocked the door. He held it open for me. "He's already in there," he whispered and the said louder, "Have a nice night, Master Weasley." I passed through with a smile and nod. Tom closed the door and I found myself facing none other than Albus Dumbldore. He sat comfortably in a squashy armchair. The fire was not lit but there was that peculiar warmth that always followed Dumbledore permeating the room. He looked at me with a bemused smile. I was little gun shy to tell the truth. The Daily Prophet had just started reporting some horrible things about him and even Harry Potter, after all. I was not sure whether I believed that Dumbledore was senile or not. He had never really showed signs of senility until Harry Potter started... "Er," I started. I must confess that I was less than eloquent. "Are you here to see Brian as well?" Dumbledore continued to smile, and there was that damnable twinkle in his eyes. He cleared his throat.
"I am Brian."
"Oh, well then..." I really was not making a good first impression. Yes, I am aware that the Headmaster has known me for at least seven years but the note implied job prospects. "But, wait, your name is Albus."
The Headmaster gave me an indulgent sort of smile.
"My full name is Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore. When I wish to make reservations or meetings without it becoming public knowledge, I usually use one of my more innocuous names," he replied.
"Oh, I see." I said.
I was feeling very uncomfortable. I did not know whether I should find a chair or stand before the closed door. I had already failed at the first impression. To top it all off, Dumbledore was still staring at me with that damnable twinkle in his eyes.
"Would you like to sit, Percy?" He asked as he conjured one of those chintz armchairs he seemed to like so much.
It would be churlish to decline a chair that had been specifically conjured up for me, so I sat. I tried to look as comfortable and at ease as possible. Which, of course, meant that I was sitting all the way back in my chair, gripping the arm rests, and sitting ram-rod straight. I can be a very relaxed person when I put my mind to it.
Dumbledore sat serenely in his chair. He steepled his fingers and looked at me over his half-moon glasses.
"Do you still wish to pursue a career in the ministry?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.
"Why yes, yes I do." I said quickly. I was a bit taken aback by his abruptness but I suppose that's Dumbledore for you.
"Well then, I have a business proposition for you."
I straightened ever more at this. For the record, I tried very hard to keep my face impassive. It didn't work to well though. I think my face finally settled somewhere between eager and something resembling constipation. Dumbledore seemed to pay this no mind.
"I am certain that you are aware that the vacant senior under secretary job is being passed to Dolores Umbridge?" Dumbledore asked.
My eyes narrowed. I had an inkling as to where Dumbledore was going with this.
"Yes," I said slowly. I was about to say more but Dumbledore raised his hand and continued.
"Then you are also aware that the position of Junior Under Secretary is now vacant."
"Yes," I began again but Dumbledore continued.
"Do you believe that Lord Voldemort has returned?"
Author's Note: And so ends the first chapter. It's a bit of a cliff-hanger but not really. You all know what the eventual end of the story is anyway. Now that you've read, go ahead and drop a review for me. I'd rather that you didn't flame. Constructive criticism is cool and all, but flaming just isn't.
