"Horribly optimistic and ignorant mugwumps… the lot of them…" Percy Weasley had been muttering in this vein for quite some time now, but had not yet had the sense or disposition to cease. He, contrary to character, had become quite angry indeed. Not just peevish… really and truly angry.

And what was he supposed to have become? The only person in the family who gave him the time of day was Ginny, and he was far too emphatically secretive with her to expect her to be able to adequately defend him.

His brothers had played another trick on him, and a serious one this time. This was no ordinary dungbomb in the mailbox trick. How could THEY possibly be expected to keep their pranking at a mildly appropriate level. They were geniuses in their own right, and it was their duty to spread their genius to the world. They couldn't just put shaving cream on his face at night, or dung beatles in his soup… they had to create a pastry that lit things on fire! A pastry that lit HIS FOUR WEEKS WORTH OF FINISHED REPORTS FOR BARTEMUS CROUCH ON…. FIRE! Not to mention the only copy of the Warlock treaty of 1985, other than the original. Which meant that not only was he sure to be fired, but on his way out he would need to spend another week and a half in the vault, looking for the only musty copy of the damned treaty. Did Gred and Forge have any idea HOW MANY WARLOCK TREATIES THERE WERE?

Percy had entered his room to find everything on his desk afire. So much work completely destroyed. And what was he supposed to tell Mr. Crouch?

"Sorry about this Mr. Crouch. My brothers are going to kill themselves very soon. Could I have another four weeks to finish the reports?"

Uh,Huh… That would go over well.

Percy's brothers had been getting him into trouble since school began, and Percy just could not seem to get away from them. He had barely managed to scrape through school with high enough marks to get the job he had right out of Hogwarts. His mother and father had been so proud of him, but totally unsurprised, which only confirmed Percy's suspicion that they didn't really know him at all. They showered him with gifts and praise. They spoke highly of him. They had tried to give him everything he'd ever wanted, just like all of the Weasley children.

But they had only barely enough time to share in his childhood triumphs when they had to keep Bill and Charlie out of trouble. But when Fred and George were born, Percy's role in the family quickly became that of the overachiever. He consistently tried to gain his parent's attention through extensive achievement, but the more he did. The more awards and praise he received, the more content they seemed to let him take care of himself.

He could only get so far with Fred and George blocking his every opportunity for greatness. They ruined his work, extensive projects that took him weeks… even months to complete. They soured his disposition considerably, for even when Percy did manage to finish something, to do something right, his moment of glory would be interrupted by another prank. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's faces, bright with happiness and pride would be startled from their revelry by a loud bang, or a scream. Ron would be under attack by a broom with legs. George would be choking on a candy of his own creation, and Percy would be forgotten.

And they'd ruined his first relationship. Penelope Clearwater was too ambitious and beautiful of a woman to be dragged down by a boy who seemed to be constantly behind in his work, yet working constantly. A boy who seemed sad or sullen most of the time, who had trouble smiling. A girl like her didn't need a boy like him.

And so Percy had stormed out of the house, so angry he was nearly blind. He'd nearly ended up in the wrong fireplace, as he'd hissed "Diagon alley" so quietly that it was unintelligible, even to his own ears. He don't know how long he walked through Diagon alley. He was so angry he just stormed ahead, walking so fast he was practically running, muttering to himself in his rage.

And then very suddenly, he stopped.

"Now what?"

It was now dark, or nearing dark, indicating that Percy had spent nearly three hours walking blindly. He stood roughly a mile away from the foot of the mountains, surrounded by deserted shops. None of them were recognizable.

Percy was… without a doubt, lost.

And more importantly, he was late for dinner.

He needed to find a fireplace, and fast. He looked around. Most of the shops were closed. His eyes fell on a small alleyway, one that he wouldn't have seen if he hadn't been looking right at it. A clever bit of architecture, he decided, to have built an alleyway that wasn't even noticeable when it was lit in the darkness. He took a few steps, putting himself directly in front of the alley. The red brick of the buildings turned dark here, and Percy wasn't sure whether the brick colour had actually changed or the darkness of the alley cast a dark shadow over all of the brick. About twenty yards into the alley, a small lantern was resting, lit, over the top of a door.

The alley itself made Percy nervous, and he wasn't certain as to whether or not he really wanted to bother walking down it. It seemed like an awfully dodgy place, and it was so quiet.

"But I NEED a fireplace."

That decided him. He walked silently down the alley, looking about him and feeling rather dodgy himself, acting as though an enemy would jump out of the wall.

When he finally reached the door, he felt even more nervous. The door was solid black, but not painted. It looked as though the tree that had provided the wood for this door actually was black. A deep, Basalt looking black, that almost shone under the light of the lantern.

Percy reached for the door, half expecting the handle to bite him. It didn't.

He opened the door, and his mouth fell open. The room was dimly lit, not by magical lights or lanterns, but by three large chandeliers, each housing countless rows of wax candles. The walls were high, and of stone. On the inside, this place was two stories high. The common room, of sorts, was full of round wooden tables, each housing six to eight men. They drank, firewhiskey, if the smell was anything to go on. Loud. And Bawdy. They laughed and joked, and beat upon the tables for more firewhiskey, which was given to them almost immediately by the waitstaff. Waitstaff? The first word that Percy could come up with to describe them, though this hardly described them at all. Girls… errrr… women… wearing dresses that could only be called dresses on a technicality. Archaic gowns in rich colours, that left nothing to the imagination.

Realizing abruptly that he probably seemed conspicuous infront of the door, Percy scanned the room for an out of the way corner, and found just what he was looking for under a canopy extending from the second story. A small table, shrouded in darkness, but from an appropriate vantage point. He kept to the wall, and slunk around to the table, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

After declining an offer of firewhiskey, Percy distracted himself from his thirst to scan the room once more. The girls with their steady streams of firewhiskey, were coming out of a door to the right of the bar itself, from what Percy would have assumed was the stockroom. But here is where Percy became confused. On the second story, above the stockroom, there was a small balcony/walkway, which was lined with several doors, all about the same distance apart. Bright coloured silks and decoration lined the staircase and the railing of this area, and the doors themselves almost appeared to lead into little rooms, not much larger than the one he used to share with Bill.

"But what are they for?" Percy thought to himself.

He was suddenly distracted by a loud cheer on the other side of the room. A table had erupted, it appeared, when one of its inhabitants stood up with one of the waitresses. She took something from him, and they proceeded to head for the stockroom, while the man looked back every so often to cast lewd smiles upon his mates.

But they didn't enter the stockroom, instead they made their way up the steps, and into one of the rooms on the second story. The table erupted again as the door slammed shut, and suddenly Percy realized what the doors were for.

"But… but…. I thought that was illegal…" A loud laugh came from inside of the closed door, followed by a crash. "Then again maybe not."

"Are you looking for someone?"

Percy jerked around abruptly, and found, to his immense surprise and dismay, that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life was standing behind him, and was wearing such a curious expression that Percy could not keep from laughing. The girl only grinned at this, as though Percy were a drunken child. "Not that I've done anything to dissuade that idea," Percy thought to himself.

"Are you alright?" The girl asked, seeming to have run out of anything better to say.

"Oh yes." Said Percy, laughing heartily. "I'm quite alright."

"Then you won't mind me sitting down." The girl grinned again.

"Oh not at all… not at all," said Percy, who was excited at the prospect of being able to talk to someone.

He froze, as the girl pushed his chair back, and swung her leg over his knees, bringing herself to a sitting position right on his lap, facing him.

"Merlin's balls," thought Percy numbly, and then admonished himself for thinking of such vulgarity at a time like this…. "At a time like this…"

The girl seemed taken aback by his sudden quiet.

"Are you quite alright?" she asked.

"Erm.." Percy couldn't speak for a moment, he was feeling so frightened all of a sudden. So instead he nodded shortly, and then gulped.

She got up from his lap suddenly, and then pulled up a chair, close to him. Her voice became soft.

"You aren't one of these men, nor are you ever likely to become one. What are you doing here?" Her eyes searched his. They pierced his soul, shining darkly in the dim light.

"Actually, I'm a little lost." Said Percy sheepishly. He looked at the ground.

"Lost? And you found your way here. Lucky you."

"Well, you see…" Percy began, and he found the whole story coming out of his lips. How his brothers had gone and torched his reports, and four weeks of his work, and the treaty. She was very sympathetic, and seemed very excited about the ministry itself and his job. He found himself feeling much better, talking with her about how much he enjoyed his work, and how happy he was to do a good job. He didn't add the part about no one understanding his odd familial predicament, it just seemed childish at the moment, and part of him wondered why he'd ever bother feeling sorry for himself.

"So what happens now… with your burned work?"

"Well, I suppose I'll get sacked." Percy became very quiet.

"Why don't you ask your brothers for help? It's horrible what they did, but maybe they can reverse the spell or something, or help you redo the work."

"I suppose… maybe…"

"They're your brothers." She said suddenly, and smiled.

"Who are you?" he asked. She looked taken aback. "No I didn't mean it like that. I mean… what's your name?"

"Oh!" she seemed relieved. "Joselyn."

"It was lovely meeting you Joselyn." He held out his hand.

"You're leaving?"

"I have far too many brothers, and a sister, who may suddenly decide to take an interest in what I'm doing." He stood up.

"Well then," she took his hand and kissed it, making him feel very much like he was being burned alive along with the reports, and then looked up at him. "I'll see you around."

"Oh please, if there is some higher being, a fate, a force that binds, a God, anything…." He added as an afterthought.

He then stumbled ever so clumsily out the door, feeling her eyes on him, but not daring to turn around until he was well out into the alleyway, and walking back to the street.