Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters.
The Quotes in bold are by Nietzsche.
The Best Follower
The most dangerous follower is he whose defection would destroy the whole party: that is to say, the best follower.
XXXPercy took one last look at the world behind him. The rolling mountains of England like a speckled mosaic looked back. A blur of reds and oranges and yellows twisting through the fall countryside. It was everything natural, everything alive, everything that had been there since the very beginning. Merlin himself could have stood on this mountain top and seen the same thing. Percy turned his head and faced the machine. It glistened with the sort of danger that only sun scorched metal could possess. It was new, and cold, and brewed with the design of intelligence. A structure created, not born, molded, not grown, by the fickle hands of humans. It would only ever serve the purpose it had been created for. No life made it glow.
A gentle but heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder from behind. Percy touched the fingertips of his teacher briefly to acknowledge the support. He swallowed and found his voice somewhere in the darker pits of his chest. When he spoke it was a raspy whisper. "Tell me how I die?"
The hand was gone then and a man was standing beside him. A tall dark man with darker hair and infinitely black eyes. "You give your life for your world." he whispered back. "You struggle in your fight and in the end it is not a painless death. But it is a good death. And you go in knowing exactly what you are getting yourself into."
Percy nodded. That sounded right. He turned to look at his teacher and was surprised to find the dark eyes were welled with tears. Percy said nothing about them. Kemnebi did not look at him right away and when he did his gaze was piercing enough to remind Percy of Dumbledore.
"Not once do you regret what you have done." he said. "You do not back down and you do not ask for mercy. And the men who knew you best mourn you in the only way they know how." He reached out and grasped Percy's wrist in an almost brotherly handshake.
Percy felt his face smiling even through his urge to throw his arms around his tutors neck and cry for the loss that was creeping up on him. "They walk softer,"
Kemnebi nodded. "And they fight harder." he finished. Then he tugged on Percy's arm and pulled him into a ferocious hug. "Don't ever forget."
The words pulled at the invisible strings in Percy's chest. He'd never imagined seeing his teacher so vulnerable. If he looks vulnerable I must look pathetic. And yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to be concerned about it.
"I won't."
Then Kemnebi let go and stepped back. He nodded once and Percy nodded back and knew there would be no more words between them.
Not ever.
Percy stepped away and walked to the shimmering archway before he could look too closely at his teachers face. Remus was standing with his arms crossed just inside. A part of Percy thought he should be embarrassed that his friend had seen the whole thing, but the expression on the other mans face stopped it. He stepped up and into the capsule like dome. Remus stood aside to let him in and whacked the little square button with his fist.
The archway slid closed. Percy looked just in time to catch a last glimpse of Kemnebi kneeling on the ground with his dark head bowed before the metal hissed shut and England and the man were gone forever.
Remus was smiling sadly at the door. "You have a very good teacher." he said. Percy looked sideways at his companion. The shuttle lurched almost in-perceptively and was still. There was no feeling of movement, no telltale jerk of inertia, but Percy knew they had left earth behind. And when they returned it would be a very different place.
"I also have a very good friend."
Remus looked down at the floor. He looked like he had something he wanted to say. Percy gave his friend a pat on the shoulder as he walked by. "You have the next two hundred years to think of the words." he said reassuringly.
The main room was a white circle with just a tiny hint of blue to it. There were two arm chairs seated in the center with a table between them. Small checkered squared were painted onto the tables surface. Percy ran his finger over it, feeling the texture of the etching, and laughed.
"I hope you play chess." he told Remus. "We've got two centuries to reflect on our mistakes."
Remus laughed too. "Actually, we have two centuries to reflect on how they don't matter anymore."
XXXHope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.
XXX
The old clock on the wall was starting to look like it needed a vacation. The hands seemed more fragile now that dust had collected on them. The tiny little arms were stuck, quivering, on the graying words 'mortal peril'. Which was where they had been since the end of the war. Occasionally they would come free and swing around naturally, like they always had, but inevitably they would return to the same place. Molly had often wondered if there wasn't a way to fix it, they hadn't moved in months now.
Maybe she would ask Arthur when he got home.
She turned from her work at the stove when the soft little 'plink' came from behind her. It was the sound of something tiny hitting the floor. Her eyes scanned the room but didn't find anything out of place so she shrugged and went back to cooking breakfast.
She was sitting in a chair at the old kitchen table. The newspaper was spread out in front of her but she hadn't really done much in the way of reading it. New morning sunlight streamed in at her, making a direct line into her eyes. But she was feeling too warm and comfortable in its glow to move. Her wand flicked back and forth in a series of motions that had long ago become second nature. Upon a great effort she managed to force herself from her chair to pad to the bottom of the stairs.
"BREAKFAST!" Then she went back to her seat where her sunlight was waiting patiently for her. She eased back into it and tilted her head back with a happy sigh. Behind her, echoing down the stairwell, noises were starting to take over her quite morning.
Molly didn't need to look to know who was coming down. Hermione was always first, her footsteps the sharp, tapping kind even in her slippers. Ginny raced down the stairs causing tremors with every thump. Ron's sounds were heavy and slow with sleep, it would be another hour or so before his energy came to him. Light and soft and almost inaudible, Harry was the last one down. Molly's secret smile almost faded as she listened to him. Harry always walked like that. Careful, like he was afraid of being heard and disturbing someone. It probably comes from years of living with those damnable Dursley's.
Ron and Ginny were arguing already behind her and Molly paid absolutely no attention to it until someone yowled with pain. She sat up straight and spun in her seat.
"Ron dear, what happened?" she asked. Ron was hopping up and down on one foot, making his way haphazardly to a chair where he plopped down.
"I dunno. I stepped on something sharp." He lifted the offending appendage into his lap to inspect it. Molly sent the eggs and bacon and the toast and the orange juice over to the table. Then she waved over the glasses and dishware, watching Harry watch Hermione and Ginny to an awkward sort of dance around the butter, each insisting the other could go first.
Ron went still, and Molly noticed. She looked at her son. He was looking a little pale.
"What is it dear?" Ron looked up and the furious pecking of an owl started at the window. Molly waved her wand and the window shot open. The owl flew inside and landed on the back of an unoccupied chair. Ginny moved to relieve it of its burden. Ron spoke.
"It's Percy's hand."
His words didn't make sense right away and Molly moved closer to see what he was talking about. Ron was holding a small arrow like piece of metal in his palm. Percy's name was engraved into it.
"Percy's hand from the clock." Ron tried to explain. "It must have fallen off." The look on Ron's face said he knew that couldn't be good.
Molly's mouth opened in a silent 'o'. She stepped backwards until she found a chair to sit in. All the blood rushed from her hands to her head to her chest to her stomach where it settled and turned to stone. Ginny was there on her left, gently handing her the letter.
"It's addressed to all of us." she said softly.
Molly took the thick envelope in her hands. The dark owl was already gone.
Hermione was the first one to work out what the broken hand of the clock meant. She whispered a chocked "Oh, no."
"Mum, what…?" But Molly wasn't hearing anymore. A rushing filled her ears and behind that was a silence that told her what it would sound like to never hear her sons voice again. Her fingers scratched at the envelope to tear it open along the top fold. Inside was a folded piece of parchment and a second, smaller, envelope. She took that out first and placed it on the table.
Percy's handwriting was scrawled across the front of it. 'To my Family.'
Molly unfolded the parchment, creasing it where her fingers clutched too hard for fear of dropping it.
An unfamiliar handwriting filled the page, but somewhere Molly already knew what it said.
Dearest Weasley's,
It is with the most sincere regret that I inform you of Percy Weasley's death.
Molly didn't make it farther than that. The dead weight in her stomach flared suddenly, twisting into her chest like a constricting fire. She had to pull her arms around herself to keep it from eating her alive. A chair scraped in the room. Molly found that her head was slowly sinking to the table that moved with wracking sobs.
Someone's hand touched hers briefly and the letter was removed. She didn't fight it. Ron's panicked voice floated through the chaos. "Oh…oh Merlin, Ginny contact dad, tell him he needs to come home right now."
"But why? What…?"
"Just do it!" Ginny's feet flew from the room. Harry's voice asked the same question.
"Percy's dead." Ron sounded like he didn't believe it. He was using his chess voice that said there must be another solution, another explanation.
Molly wished, with whatever part of her that was still warm enough to think actively, that she could call on that kind of denial. But the sensible mother in her didn't allow for it. And there wasn't enough room anyway…
All the emptiness inside her and she couldn't find a single corner to fit it. There was only room for one thing.
My son is dead.
The world moved slowly after that. Arthur came home, Bill and Charlie showed up and the twins came after them. Soft voices started to circle out from the living room. Molly stayed in her chair and would not be moved. Not for a long time.
And the warm walls of the Weasley's house grayed and blued and dulled to a more appropriate color for mourning.
XXXNever yield to remorse, but at once tell yourself: remorse would simply mean adding to the first act of stupidity a second.
XXX
The fire in Minerva's fireplace roared to a sudden heat at two thirty Sunday afternoon. She expected it to die down to reveal Severus's head or the face of one of her ministry contacts. Instead it flared brighter and the dark Kemnebi climbed out. How bowed shortly to her and brushed the ash from his clothes.
Minerva stared at him for a moment. His expression was closed and dry but there was a redness to his eyes.
She poured herself a glass of whisky and sat down heavily behind her desk.
"Do I really want to know?"
Kemnebi sat down in the chair across from her. There was an uncharacteristic stoop to his shoulders.
"No." he said. "But I am afraid you haven't got a choice. He entrusted the letter to you, it is time you sent it."
The whisky went down in one swallow. Minerva exhales slowly against the burning and brought her hands to her face.
"How did he die?" One of her Gryffindors. A brilliant, sensitive boy from her own house. Percy, you were destined to be something tragic I think.
"That you are not permitted to know, but…" Kemnebi leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. He swallowed. "But he died well."
XXXIn individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule.
XXXDear Mum, Dad, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Ron and Ginny.
This my official and formal goodbye. If you're getting it then it means I had no other way of giving you this information. It's also my apology and my explanation for the past few years.
I can't tell you everything. I'm not allowed. I can't even know for certain when this letter will reach you. It could be years. Because if in fact you are reading this, then I have died. But I do trust it will get to you. The man who suggested I write it would walk through heaven and hell on earth to keep his word.
Know that I died a good death. And know that I never regretted what I have done in the past. Know that despite my behavior in the years after I began working at the Ministry, I never stopped loving any of you. And even thought I know it's no real excuse, I did what I did to protect you.
I never actually worked for the Ministry. I worked against it. I worked in the hopes that someday the flaws and dangerous imperfections might be worked out of it. My time spent with Barty Crouch, at his heels, in his shadow, was all part of my orders to watch him closely.
As my family you have the right to know the truth about my death. Or as much of it as I can give you.
I was an Unspeakable. Two days after I graduated from Hogwarts I was tested and inducted. It was where I watched you all, invisible, but filled with pride, as Dumbledore gathered the Order. I watched every one of you step up. Harry too, and Hermione, both of who are so close to being my family I can't imagine excluding them from this letter. I am so very proud of all of you, and if I could have I would have loved to fight beside you.
But I fought as an Unspeakable. I fought as one of them and I died as one of them, and I do not lament doing so.
Do not mourn me too much. But miss me as you knew me in my school days. Miss the brother and the son. Miss the boy who was perhaps too serious and too stern, but who loved you all.
Goodbye.
Love,
Percy.
XXXOut of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him!
XXXPercy came to realize very early in life that he was not cut out to be a Weasley. Weasley's were fun loving and warm and fuzzy and he couldn't find it in himself to be any of those things.
There was too much in the world that frightened him.
Weasley's were also robust and full of vigor. Percy could not find the energy to be those things.
There was too much in the world that saddened him.
And Weasley's were, finally and always in the end, fine. Percy couldn't even begin to try and be like that.
There was too much in the world that something needed to be done about.
He came to these realizations during the final year of the first war, as he sat in the corner of the living room that offered the best vantage point on the young twins where they played. Fred and George were living impersonations of fire. They were also the most annoying things Percy had ever encountered and seemed to find the greatest joy in causing him grief. Later in life he would come to understand that they were just trying to make him feel better. Make him smile because he was such a 'grumpmiester' all the time.
Percy never found the heart in himself to explain to them the fear that had made him that way. Bill and Charlie were old enough to take some part in the war. And, as far as Percy could tell, they were old enough to get it.
Percy didn't 'get it' and he never would. He only knew that war was wrong. Everything with the world was wrong. People dying. His mother crying herself to sleep every night. His father coming home and pacing up and down the always in the small hours of the morning. The harsh words between families. Between friends. While everyone else was busy being a soldier, or a spy, or a do-gooder, Percy was busy trying to be a parent.
But seeing as parenting was something Weasley's were good at he found himself less than equipped for the task. He did his best, but it wasn't quite good enough.
For the greater part of his childhood Percy was under the impression that after the war ended the world would right itself and all would be well again.
He was immensely disappointed.
The war did end, and for the most part the dying stopped. His mother laughed and his father slept. The twins continued to be the twins and grew up geniuses with overly extroverted sensed of humor. But the world did not get that much better over all.
Remus Lupin, a man Percy had always secretly looked up too, was the proof that something was still very much amiss with Percy's world.
XXXThere are no facts, only interpretations.
XXXPercy was in between his forth and fifth year at Hogwarts when the conversation with Remus occurred. The man caught him standing idly out in the garden with his thoughts more tangled than the weeds. He was trying to sort the world out while he stared at his feet. The vines and leaves wove around his sneakers, tugging at the worn laces.
"Percy?" Percy didn't jump because he had been aware of Remus walking towards him since he had come around the back of the house. He was always aware of where people were in reference to himself. There was a very large part of him that refused to be snuck up on. Too much confusion already; Percy didn't need mind whirling vertigo to make it any worse.
Percy didn't turn to look at Remus. Instead he made a noise in the back of his throat to signify that yes, he was listening. It was meant to be sort of cool and suave. It sounded more like a squeak. Cool and suave Percy was not.
"You seem troubled."
Percy twisted his left foot, watching the tangles twist around it, feeling the foliage break beneath it. He seemed troubled? That wasn't exactly as he would have described it. Troubled was more like his perpetual state. His mood was closer to frustrated.
And why shouldn't he be frustrated? The world had once again failed miserably to meet his expectations. Maybe it was time to test another one of his theories. He spun and looked Remus right in the eyes.
"Why do you have such a hard time getting a job?" he asked. The question wasn't supposed to come out as an accusation; Percy hoped Remus would understand that the anger was directed at the world in general and not at him.
Remus looked uncomfortable for a moment. His golden eyes wider than usual. He took a breath.
"Because I'm a werewolf Percy. You know that." He smiled kindly. Or at least he tried to. Remus was usually the king of sweet believable smiles. I must have hit something too close to the mark. I didn't mean to hurt him. He looked away from Remus's tired face.
"I do know that, but why does that prevent you from getting a job?"
Remus reached up to brush a few strands of gold-brown hair from his frowning eyes.
"Because people don't like to hire werewolves. We're…liabilities."
"So are people like Dumbledore and Snape, you don't see them having trouble."
"You think Dumbeldore's a liability?"
Percy laughed a hollow cold sort of chuckle. It was a specialty of his.
"Are you kidding? Half the world thinks he's a nut job, half of that half wants him dead, and everyone else thinks he's a god. How is that not a liability?"
"I see you're point. But werewolves are different."
"WHY!" Percy demanded. His gaze traveled down Remus's frayed and worn robes. To the faint scars on the back of his hands. The mud on his shoes. He didn't look like a liability to Percy, he looked like a war hero, or like a kind old traveling monk from the English tales. Body worn from the work he did for other people.
"Because we're more dangerous than other –"
"Bullocks. Anyone hiring anyone could be putting faith in a death eater or a dark arts practitioner. That's just as dangerous. More even! There's no monthly potion for being an evil bastard! Remus there isn't a malicious hair on your head…"
Remus's eyebrow went up. Percy had a brief vision of his friend as a teacher if the world would only overcome its stupid prejudices.
"I beg to differ Percy."
"I don't care how you differ! They're punishing you for being sick. It's not fair! It's not you're fault you run the risk of going postal once a month!" Percy was yelling now and knew it but he couldn't find the will to stop himself. "If they can trust some smarmy guy like Snape to walk around a school and not use small children as blood sacrifices they can trust you to take a stupid potion!" And now there were tears running down his face and if he didn't stop yelling someone was going to hear and come see what was going on. And if his brothers teased him now he would never live it down if they saw him crying like a girl at fifteen.
It helped very slightly that Remus looked on the verge of tears himself.
That, if anything, scared Percy into silence. Never in all his fifteen years of knowing Remus had he seen the man cry. He felt a brief stab of guilt, maybe he'd been to harsh with his questions? Then Remus reached out and did something that terrified Percy further. He pulled him into a hug. Percy didn't even like it when his mother did that.
Percy realized that Remus needed this as much as the man thought he needed it, and so suddenly it didn't matter. He stuffed his face into Remus's shoulder and hugged him back. He was crying again but it stung less. "I hate stupidity," he choked. Remus's arms tightened around him and it occurred to Percy that the gentle trembling of his body was laughter.
"More people should think like you Percy." he let go and stepped back, smiling through his damp cheeks. It was genuine this time; the dust-like fatigue had fallen away.
Percy wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded. "But it's not an opinion, it's fact." he said.
Remus chuckled. The wind was picking up and it was going to rain. Percy looked down at the dirt again and realized for the first time how dry it was. A little rain would do the garden some good.
"Come on Percy, we'll go play a round or two of wizarding chess."
Percy followed his friend, mentally pulling up his sleeves. "Werewolf or not you know I'll kick your butt."
"Maybe." Remus agreed. "Maybe."
XXXConvictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies.
XXXHalfway through Percy's sixth year of Hogwarts the ministry leaned who he was. He was sitting in the library trucking through one of his more boring essay assignments when the Department came to see what he was.
A dark man in a dark cloak came striding in on the crest of some imaginary shadow and sat down across from him.
No one else in the room had even looked up when he appeared. Percy forced him muscles to relax and thought to himself fight or flight even though both were a ridiculous notion in the library. He watched the man watch him and refused to be the first to speak.
"Your Professor McGonagall contacted me." The man's voice was as dark as his hair and it carried a light and odd accent that Percy couldn't place. It match the piercing eyes buried in his deeply tan face. "She says you have a problem with the ministry."
Percy put his quill down and imagined pinning the sudden wash of fear beneath it. McGonagall wouldn't give him up to anyone who would hurt him. Certainly not because of an opinion. He glanced at the second years a table away. The man shook his head. "They will not hear us." he assured him. "They won't even notice us."
"How can you be so sure?" Percy asked. No spell had been cast.
"Because people never notice you until you make yourself noticed." there was a confidence in the observation that suggested this man knew more about Percy than Percy did. "It is the same way with me."
Putting all caution aside Percy made the decision to trust this man, for the moment. "I don't have a problem with the ministry. I have a problem with the laws and the people who love them. The ministry is just the junction point."
"You don't think it is the source?"
"The laws didn't come from the ministry. They came from a need or want of the people to have them, the ministry just complied." Percy titled his head. "And all too often they comply with the wishes of powers…richer, than themselves. They meet at the ministry and there are put down onto paper. Junction point."
The cool black eyes held him still when he was finished. "You are a smart lad."
Percy wanted to say "No someone forgot to lie to me when I was a kid." but he didn't see the point in acting dramatic.
The man stood and extended his hand. "I would give you my name but you would just forget it when I leave." Percy took that as a fact and not as an insult. He shook the man's hand. "Or maybe you wouldn't. Now would not that be interesting? I'm here to offer you a job opportunity. You have the right kind of mind for the job Percy Weasley and we will contact you again after you graduate. You have until then to decide if you want to take us up on our offer."
"What's the catch?" Percy asked immediately.
"The catch is you have to sever ties completely with almost everyone you know. Your friends, your family. Your work will do great things, but no one will ever hear about them. If we're lucky, the poison will slowly be washed from the Ministry, but no one will see it leave."
"Why do I have to sever ties?"
"What we do is dangerous business Percy. And it is hard. The kind of difficult not everyone will understand."
Percy understood. Several things connected and snapped into place in his brain while he nodded.
"I will see you about a year." he said, and left.
Percy sat back down and stared at his essay and wondered if what he did in school would matter after he fell in with the 'we' this dark man spoke of. For a brief instant he toyed with the thought of going to McGonagall to ask whom she had contacted, but he gave it up when he realized he would have to reveal what he had been told.
The choice is up to me then. He would have to do all the thinking on his own. Not that all his choices weren't, in the end, up to him. Percy turned back to his essay. He had a year and then some to think about this choice. The essay was due in a week.
XXXAll truth is simple…is that not doubly a lie?
XXXIn his favorite spot for brooding in the garden behind the Burrow Percy picked patterns out of the knotted vines with unfocused eyes. It was two days since he had graduated. A grand total of forty-eight hours. He felt that if the dark man were going to contact him it was going to be very soon. And he was ready; there was a decision solid as a boulder rooted in his chest. It hurt, and before he it got better it was going to get worse. But…
I can make no other choice. There were other choices to be made. Just none he could honestly commit himself to.
He'd made up his mind months ago for what he thought was the final time. It hadn't actually solidified until his graduation day. As he stood in the center of a circle of people who were congratulating him. His teachers, his mother, his father, Bill, Charlie…and Remus.
Remus, who had left just the day before after resigning. Who had come back just to smile and hug Percy. Remus, with his prematurely graying hair and scarred face. Who still had the kindest eyes Percy knew and who never seemed to blame anyone for his misfortunes.
Percy had an idea who to blame.
The ministry.
So he shook the worn hand Remus offered him. He laughed and acted like the giddy graduate he was supposed to be, while still retaining the stiff posture everyone expected of him. And then, when he was alone, he cried.
He hadn't allowed himself to do that since his conversation with Remus years before. He hadn't felt the need to.
Percy sat on his bed, and stared at the window that the night sky, and he cried for his friend. And he knew there was no way he could say no to the dark man when he came.
He came. Just then, while Percy was still lost in his own contemplations of his past and the garden and their similarities.
"Hello." The greeting was casual, like as would pass between two friends. Percy didn't feel violated in the least by this. He felt the bond. The ease there was with the dark man and himself that made speaking simple.
"Hello." he answered.
"What have you decided?"
"Yes." He turned to the dark man. The depth of his eyes and dark folds of his clothes hid his posture and his emotions. For a moment the dark man was silent.
"What made you come to this decision?" he asked at last.
"I was never really one of them." He pushed his selfish notion into the light of day. The dark man would know who 'they' were. Let it be turned over and scrutinized by someone who knew more than he did. "And now I would like to ask you a question."
"Just one?"
"Just one. I imagine you will tell me the rest on your own. And I believe I've figured out a fair portion of it." Or a good enough portion. "What is your name?"
"Kemnebi." The part of Percy's brain that was always secretly listening well when Bill spoke turned over.
"You're Egyptian."
"I am." And there was more to that sentence than Kemnebi spoke. Percy didn't inquire into it. He turned back to his windy garden.
"I always wondered what a person had to do to become an Unspeakable. When I was little I imagined these men, aurors or politicians, doing great deeds and being commended. Really it's much simpler than that. Really you seek out the men you want."
"…You are smart. McGonagall said it was so."
Percy shrugged. It wasn't such a terribly special thing, to be smart. To be brave, to be good, to be humble, those were virtues truly admirable. And Percy had known people the best of all three who were quite dumb. Most of them were happily unaware of it as well. And then there is the exception to the rule. Remus was quite a clever man and he had no awareness of his merits. And neither was he always happy, he was condemned because of a stupid flaw.
Percy spoke.
"McGonagall will be kept abreast of certain happens in this sense correct? She will be allowed to know small bits of the truth?"
"…Yes. She gave you to us, it would be unfair for us to lie to her."
Percy found he didn't mind being given away. He would work that puzzle out later.
"There is another I would have privy to that information. Is that allowed?"
"Yes. It is dangerous, but it is allowed. Only one however, and he will only get a vague gist. And the person cannot be a member of your family."
That was fine. If there was one thing that was going to hurt as much as leaving it was lying to Remus. The man who was more or less the reason Percy was willing to take this leap.
"Remus Lupin," Percy told Kemnebi. "should be allowed to know."
"The werewolf?"
"You don't sound surprised."
Now Kemnebi laughed. "It's not my job to be surprised. Why him, may I ask?"
"No. But perhaps someday I will tell you."
Kemnebi accepted this answer gracefully.
XXXExistence really is an imperfect tense that never becomes a present.
XXXPercy remembered nothing about his test. Only that it was long and grueling and that every time he reflected onto that empty space in his mind he felt a sense of pride. Kemnebi told him it was part of safety protocol. No one was allowed to remember.
Later though Kemnebi would tell him stories and they would laugh.
XXXAnd if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
XXXTen years. Remus looked at himself in the mirror. It looked like ten years. They had taken their toll on everyone. Voldemort was dead but the real battle was still far from resolved.
And most of the wizarding world didn't even know it was going on.
Percy and the Unspeakables were fighting a lonely war. Remus helped out where he could. The few times Percy ever came to him for a favor he never hesitated. He never asked questions either because he knew Percy wouldn't be allowed to answer him.
A few times Kemnebi had come to him also. When Percy couldn't make it, or when Percy didn't know he needed a favor. Remus was glad to do what little he could then as well. But it never felt like enough. Especially when Ron would make a comment or when Bill's face would get hard at the mention of their brother.
He made a few interventions. Occasionally he would oh so casually mention that maybe there was a good reason for Percy's distance. Something keeping him from coming back and reconciling. Molly would usually smile tearfully at him. Ron would pat him on the shoulder and tell him that there was no one quite like himself. "You're a very good person Remus. And sometimes I wish I could be as forgiving as you."
Remus never had an answer to that because it wasn't true. There was no forgiveness necessary.
Sometimes he would find himself incredibly frustrated. He would pace and go for longs walks to get out of the house. He would brood and stew until he reminded himself that Percy chose this path and he had known, and still knew, what he was getting himself into.
It would kill him not to do it. And it's killing him to do it.
Remus sighed and turned away from the mirror because it wasn't showing him anything he wanted to see anyway. Just more graying hair.
He grabbed his coat and started out the door. Molly would be expecting him soon. If she couldn't get him to marry she at least seemed determined to stuff him with food. Remus didn't mind. She was a very dear friend. I just wish I could tell her what is happening with her son.
His feet had barely hit the street when someone touched his shoulder. Remus didn't jump, but only because he'd become used to that sort of a greeting over the past ten years. Unspeakables had apparently mastered the art of apparating with no noise what so ever. Or perhaps they had another method of expedient travel that was quiet. He turned and Kemnebi was there, standing beside him. Like he'd always been there. Like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
"Remus, do you have anywhere you need to be right away?"
"Ah, well I do have plans but it wouldn't kill anyone if I were late." Something was wrong. Kemnebi never waited to get right to the point. Their conversations were usually no more than four or five sentences.
"Good. Percy is sick."
"What?!" 'Sick' in Unspeakable speech meant 'dying.' "What is wrong with him?"
"I…I believe there is a flaw in the system that has infected him."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
Kemnebi shook his head and reached out and took a hold of Remus's wrist. "We cannot discuss it here anyway."
Remus felt the familiar/unfamiliar pull of sidelong apparition. Then there was no longer pavement beneath his feet, but grass. Buildings rose no longer up above him, he looked down on hills and valleys. It was about as remote as a mountaintop could get. Remus was certain he would have know the name of the mountain if he hadn't forgotten everything he knew about geography years ago.
Kemnebi let him go. "This is safer." he said.
"I should think so. Now what is wrong with Percy?"
"I should not be divulging this information to an outsider. But Percy has been a student to both of us in a way and there are some things I simply cannot help him with." For someone who was about to break a serious rule Kemnebi did not seem hesitant.
"We are not from your time. The first of us came from two hundred years after this time."
'We' meant the Unspeakables.
"The future?"
"Yes. The ministry, your ministry specifically, became corrupt. I'm sure you've notice. A few minor mistakes that perhaps weren't mistakes were made and led to bigger things. Unfortunate circumstances one could call them. Think of it like an avalanche, the small pebbles jarring loose bigger boulders down through time. Things in our time were a mess. All of the governments were falling apart. So we came back to change it."
"Aren't there laws against that kind of thing?" Time turners could only go back a few years at most, the kind of things that could go wrong trying to change something from two hundred years ago were catastrophic. "There's no way to predict which way the events will turn."
"In your time there isn't. In our time there is. The math required is not that complicated once it has been simplified. We analyzed the past and pinpointed the exact instances that need to be changed. However this won't actually change our time. It will start a new timeline where things will be better."
Remus tried to imagine exactly how that worked and came up empty. "How? Why?"
"Time is not flexible. Something that has happened has happened. It is permanent and cannot be changed. But it can be written over if you see my meaning. Think of time like an empty page. A hand scribbles words across the page in ink. Those words are there, they cannot be taken away. But they can be covered up and new words written on top. The original 'words' will still be there, the first layer, but a new layer will be built over it. By changing the past we are actually creating a new future. I will exist again, possibly, in the future, without ever knowing I existed in my past because by the time two hundred years pass it will be a different universe."
"So you're creating an alternate universe where things will be better."
"Yes, and this time will be unknowingly connected to both of them. In fact the only people aware of the change are the few who remained behind in our time and those of us here, who will be nameless dead in history."
"You will die here? Can't you just return to you're time when you are done?"
"No. By the time we are done we will be too much a part of the new timeline. After a certain point there is no going back. Right now we have limited communication with our own time but it is one way. They receive word from us they cannot reply. And even that bridge is quickly collapsing."
"What does all of this have to do with Percy? You said it was the system. I don't see how any of that would make him sick."
Kemnebi rubbed his eyes. "The magic we use is advanced. It intimately connects the person with our goals. That's why the first test is so hard, we have to make sure a person is really ready and willing to do what has to be done. Percy was…is, too willing. He has somehow become so emotionally involved that the magic, which is still connected with our time, is trying to pull him forward. It knows he doesn't belong in this timeline, or it thinks he doesn't.
"Myself and those who came with me had to take precautions to fool the magic into thinking we belong here while still keeping connected to it enough to make contact back home. But it's an individual thing for each person. We had to be analyzed first, for weeks. It was a painstaking process and Percy never went through it."
"Because he is from this time."
"Yes. But the magic is almost like a living thing. It recognizes Percy as being more like the people from my time than the people here."
"Wait. So he's…more advanced than he should be?"
"Yes and no. It is more complicated than that but I don't have the time or the right to explain semantics. Percy's mindset always was a little different, but it was still fit for someone from his time. When he started working with us his mindset slowly changed. He started to think more and more like someone from my time would. He gained an objective way of seeing situations that won't be considered 'proper' for another hundred or so years. And it will never be considered totally normal. The magic is recognizing his mindset and trying to put him where he belongs. Which…isn't here. Not anymore."
"But he really is from this time." Remus was starting to see the issue. Kemnebi nodded.
"Yes. So he is being torn in half essentially. He doesn't know it yet but I am starting to see the symptoms. He doesn't have long. And we don't have long before the pathway back to my home time is completely closed."
"And the only way to save him is to send him there?"
"Yes."
Kemnebi had turned away from him and was looking out over the countryside of England. Remus moved so he could see the man's face. He looked awful.
"You look awful."
Kemnebi laughed. "I feel awful. Percy was like a gift from the fates. I thought there could be no one more suited to this kind of work than he is. He's compassionate but he's strong."
"You weren't wrong. Percy loves what he's doing."
"I know. I asked him to give up so much, and he did. And now he has to give up more. He has to leave or die." Kemenbi looked Remus right in the eyes then. Remus felt like he'd never been the direct object of that gaze before. It was like being pinned by a slab of rock. The weight behind the Egyptians gaze was unfathomable. "There is truly no justice in the world." Remus got the feeling that the man wasn't just talking about Percy anymore. "If Percy chooses to leave he will be loosing everything he knows all at once."
"You're not sending him alone!" Remus had assumed automatically that Kemnebi at least would be going with him.
"I cannot go with him. The precautions that keep me from being recognized by the magic ties to my world also prevent me from going back. They are irreversible. Remus I cannot ask you to give up so much. And yet, for Percy's sake, I cannot not ask you."
Leave everyone, and everything. Forever? Yes, forever. Kemnebi has already explained that the bridge between the timelines was closing. Could he do something like that? Can I not?
"I will go with him."
"Remus this is not a decision to be made right away. Think about it. Visit all of your friends, take a look at your life…"
"I know what I will be losing. Percy has been traded a big injustice in life."
"He is not the only one."
Remus didn't understand.
"Remus do you know why in the end, Percy decided to become an Unspeakable?"
"He wanted to-"
"You Remus. He has looked up to you all his life and he still can't wrap his head around how unfair life has been to you. You are his proof that there is something very wrong with the laws. My only consolation in requesting this terrible decision from you is that life, in the vague sense, may be better for you in my time. Werewolves aren't considered 'liabilities' there."
Remus did not miss the reference to the conversation he'd had with Percy years ago.
"My life hasn't been so bad. I have good friends, I have…" but Kemnebi was wearing his secret knowing smile and Remus knew there was no point in arguing. But the smile fell almost as soon as it had appeared.
"You really do feel this is your fault." Remus said.
"No. I feel I played a large part in it. And now I feel like I am destroying two lives in an effort to mend one mistake."
"It wasn't a mistake." Remus wondered how people comforted each other in the future. He settled for a gentle pat on the other mans shoulder. "You've been an excellent teacher and a better friend. He will understand if he chooses to go."
"He will. He knows that there are things in the future he can help to fix as well."
"What will we tell everyone? His family is going to notice if he just drops off the face of the earth."
"The truth as far as it matters. That he died."
"But he won't have!"
"Effectively, for them. It is the same. They'll never see him again. It is best if they get through their mourning without any false hopes."
Remus frowned. "You don't think they'd rather know he's alive somewhere than think he's dead?" He blinked away the water that a cold, hard wind, brought to his eyes.
"I am not allowed to tell them. You are leaving so I am not breaking any oath in telling you. But in telling them…"
Remus didn't think he quite agreed with that. Kemnebi gave him a sidelong glance.
"McGonagall knows as much as you knew this morning. You will have to think of something to tell her about your disappearance. She is a smart woman. It would be a disaster if she somehow connected Percy's death with your vanishing." Kemnebi wasn't smiling but the heaviness in his eyes had lessened.
Remus did smile. "Yes it would."
XXXWhat are mans truth ultimately? Merely his irrefutable errors.
XXXRemus Lupin had come to see Minerva three days ago.
"Minerva I'm leaving."
"Leaving where?"
"With a friend."
And somehow Minerva had known she would never see Remus again. She had risen from behind her desk and given him a tight hug, which had embarrassed him, and told him to take care.
Now Remus was nowhere to be found. An hour ago Kemnebi had left after giving her the news of Percy Weasley's death. There had been something behind his tear read eyes that said he knew she knew something. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither of them could. It was classified. Secret. It was not to be known or repeated ever.
Minerva gave a furtive glance at the time. Molly would have read Percy's letter by now and the whole Weasely clan would be present.
Minerva drained her scotch and gabbed a fistful of floo power. She tossed it into her fire.
"The Burrow!"
Molly was sitting alone in the kitchen when Minerva found her. She looked up, face red. Tear tracks were sculpted down her cheeks. The voices of the other Weasley's could be heard from the living room.
"Yes?" her voice trembled and rasped. She must have been crying for hours.
"Molly, I'd like to speak to you about something."
FIN