He fumbles at your spirit
As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
He stuns you by degrees,
Emily Dickinson, The Master
.
All his life, Percy Ignatius Weasley had never tasted such grandeur: not even when he was proudly elected as Head Boy of Hogwarts, nor on the day when he confidently set foot in the Ministry of Magic; really, those moments were not particularly worth mentioning if you looked at him now.
For the last time, he examined his flawless red hair, dainty spectacles and immaculate ties, and with a satisfied smile, the young Weasley strode out of the room briskly, producing an air of confidence that blew up the black robe behind him.
Today was the inauguration of the new Minister. He stepped on, blue orbs surveying the crowd: all eyes, with eagerness and in awe, were on him – Percy – the youngest Minister of Magic in British history.
After a quick wave of his hand, he cleared his throat solemnly, the mass was silent at once. Flicking his wind casually, he cast an amplifying charm –
'Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Ministry and esteemed guests from the Wizarding Community,' his voice was deep and clear, 'it is with deep sense of honour and appreciation that I accept my new appointment –'
.
Twenty-year-old Percy Weasley opened his eyes with a start. Jerking his head up from the desk, he looked out of the wind; it was a black winter night and deadly silent.
He shivered in spite of himself.
It was a dream. He had just had a most vivid dream of being appointed as the Minister of Magic.
Feeling cold and lost, Percy looked around: he was alone in his apartment, sitting at the desk, on which a dim light was lit and hills of books and files were stacked in neat piles, but otherwise it was a simple room.
Ever since he broke up with his family and Penelope ('she is a Muggle born and currently a relationship with one of them is not well-received by the Ministry,' Percy told himself), he had moved into this stark place in the east of London and settled down.
You-Know-Who had returned, or so he suspected, and the Ministry of Magic, to whom he so devoted, was trying to hide it, and with the isolation from his family and the utter confusion about his doings, Percy began to have serious doubt about the Ministry and his future, the one that he had so carefully planned out and thought to be bright, glorious and the right path.
He rubbed his forehead and sighed inwardly: tomorrow, tomorrow he would have a thorough reflection.
.
Tonight he sat on the bed of his London apartment, not companionless anymore.
Percy blinked. Leaning against the door casually, was a tall, lean and handsome man with dark hair and plain black robe, who looked to be in his early twenties.
Percy stared. The stranger's shadowy blue eyes were studying him with interest. His pale and hollow cheeks seemed familiar, as if he had known him sometime, and they somehow reminded him of himself. There were certain similarities between them that Percy couldn't tell.
He didn't like this man's dark aura, he decided, nevertheless he felt compellingly attracted to him – this wizard, whoever he was, simply spoke of power, without even uttering a word. And Percy always found power fascinating.
'Hello, Percy,' the man said in a friendly tone and smiled a charming smile.
'Who are you, may I ask?' Percy enquired sternly.
'Simply a lonely ex-Head Boy, call me Tom,' the name seemed to be uttered in a slight grimace, but Percy knew it was the light, for Tom was smiling at him.
Tom? It doesn't sound like an important name.
'I was Head Boy as well,' Percy declared with pride. And lonely, he added in his mind, feeling a little miserable, but he didn't show it a bit, 'Well, Tom, how did you come by my name and what do you do now?' he asked in a serious tone.
'You and I are rather alike. How is possible that I don't know about you, Percy Weasley, Prefect, Head Boy, Top-Grade in N.E. ,' words were delightfully tumbling from Tom's lips, 'and now an exceptional member of the Ministry of Magic.'
Doubtless, these words were pleasing but Percy remained suspicious; as a matter of fact, he got hold of his wand now, 'and what do you want from me at this hour of night? Since you've already known, I am an important member at the Ministry – working for the Minister himself, to be precise – you know better than to enter without permission,' said Percy sharply.
'Calm down, Percy,' Tom's voice was silky, with an undertone of authority, which had an alarmingly notable effect on Percy, who was immediately quiet and listened attentively. 'I didn't enter without permission. We are merely in a dream.'
Another dream ... Well. Percy valued facts more than anything and naturally he wasn't fond of dreaming. However, in a time like this, what harm would do to allow himself a little dream as long as it was not a nightmare? Especially said dream involved an interesting, powerful and handsome young man, who bore resemblance to himself.
'Some of these books are my favourite, you know,' Tom was at the desk now, surveying approvingly his collections of books, 'I see you value knowledge. Needless to say, you interest me greatly, Percy.'
'Of course, you can never have enough books. Knowledge is power,' Percy nodded in affirmation. 'So, Tom, you as well was a Head Boy? How didn't I know your name?' Obviously Percy couldn't have enough names of Prefects, Head Boys, and Ministers, too.
'I am much older than I look. When you were a mere infant, I had already witnessed many things, experimented, and tasted power,' Tom smirked.
'You don't work for the Ministry, do you? As a prominent member of the Ministry of Magic, I wonder how a charming young man like you doesn't have a position there –'
'Oh Percy, but do not keep fooling yourself,' Tom sounded amused.
'What do you mean?" Percy asked crossly.
'You know perfectly well what I mean,' Tom said matter-of-factly, 'don't tell me that assistant job of yours really matters to them. As intelligent as you are, has it ever not occurred to you that they are only using you to reach the Chosen One because of his relationship with your family?' Tom said thoughtfully, and he paused slightly, '– or is our dear ex-Head Boy not as smart as I reckon?' he shook his head, almost as if he were disappointed.
Percy tried to remain calm. Inwardly, however, a storm was raging in his heart and mind, so violent that he didn't even notice that a small smile curled up the corners of Tom's thin lips.
'I did well enough. It is necessary and will suffice to get me up to higher positions at the Ministry,' Percy retorted.
'But, the Ministry? You and I both know they are a pathetic excuse for a government. Percy, Percy, I thought you were more ambitious. Proud Percy Weasley, working for a bunch of incompetent and ignorant fools who do not recognise the slightest his true worth?' he shook his head, in disbelief, and raised an eyebrow.
And then he paused, as though waiting for his words to absorb in, and when Tom spoke again, he deliberately slowed down, 'you are far more intelligent than that, Percy, and you deserve much more esteem, to be honest,' he finished softly, fixing on his listener intently with his dark eyes, which seemed to bore into Percy: he felt exposed, body and soul; and he hated Tom's knowing smirk.
He was utterly speechless. He used to think that, working for the Ministry of Magic, even as a humble assistant, was the most honorable thing that could have happened. And really, what job would have suited him better than working for the very rule-maker he so used to worship and follow? He was after all one of the most disciplined and righteous wizards.
But reality was laughing at him cruelly now: he was, in fact, a submissive little tool for an incompetent and powerless bureaucracy who did not appreciate him.
'You said it as though you were somebody. What can you offer then?" He demanded in an indignant voice.
When he realised Tom was towering over him, it was too late. Oh, Merlin. He was dangerously close – too close for him to think – and he smelt of magic and power, power that was almost tangible. Percy wanted to shout at him, or better yet, thrust him away, but he found himself standing up and reaching for him, mesmerised by the the darkest ocean he had ever seen in Tom' beautiful eyes.
Cold lips touched his earlobe; and ever so slowly, they made their way up and whispered cold breath into his ear that made him both shiver and boil, 'I can offer you knowledge and power,' Tom's voice was so very soft, as if sharing a private secret, 'real power.'
Later, when Tom's shadowy figure had vanished into the night, Percy felt a desire was expanding in him.
.
'Do you love your family, Tom?' he asked.
'I was an orphan.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be. I am fortunate to have had nothing to do with my parents, so to speak.'
'Do you know them?'
'I did. My mother was rather … weak. And my father was a common muggle with a lousy reputation,' said Tom, 'don't you love your family, Percy?'
'I thought I loved them, then I was … disappointed. They don't understand me,' he said bitterly.
''I understand you, Percy.'
'Sometimes I'm ashamed of them,' regardless, a sense of guilt stirred in his heart.
'Exactly why I disowned mine who abandoned me first. And you see, I am much better off on my own. I worked harder and was better rewarded. Great minds are often loners and misunderstood, Percy.'
He suddenly felt very pleased.
Later, he couldn't help letting out a bitter laugh at the irony. If You-Know-Who's return was to be proved accurate, his family would be right after all (right on this sole matter, that is). How he missed his Mother. How he missed The Burrow and his simple yet cosy room. But there was no turning back now, was there? He was proud and he would prove his worth. Was he wrong? – think about the time when he had to wear hand-me-down robes; think about Arthur's unambitious attitudes; think about Fred and George's rebellion and their joke shop (how dared they!) – to say he was profoundly ashamed was an understatement, and he didn't feel guilty anymore.
In the end, great minds are often loners and misunderstood.
.
'I can show you many things, Percy.'
'Like what?' he asked dubiously.
'Something interesting, for now,' Tom said, who was leaning so close that he could even hear their clothes rustle. But this time all was easier, for he knew he was just in a dream.
Two pairs of eyes met: he saw the deep blue ocean again, and a flash of scarlet(?); he felt both thrilled and unnerved. Long fingers lifted his chin, and icy lips burned into his chilly ear, 'Can I?' They whispered chorus of a lover, ever so softly, and dancing around his ear for a while which made him feel so very hot.
Despite himself, he suddenly wanted those cold yet soft lips on his own.
So his wish was granted; and those lips tasted power. An intoxicating sensation swept over Percy, flowing into his blood, bones and soul. To his own astonishment, he kissed back. This was so unlike the sweet kisses he had shared with Penelope; this was magic, hard, powerful and intoxicating.
Outside, the black night deepened, and mingled in the howl of the wind, a suffocating snow blasted down. But Percy was feeling very hot inside, like a cold man who'd just drunk a full bottle of firewhisky.
He never noticed a wicked smirk flashed across Tom's handsome features and was gone in an instant.
How he wished Tom were real, not just dreams. Just you and me, and together, we'd be invincible.
.
'Have you ever felt vengeful, Tom?'
'Why, Percy, the answer is yes.'
'What are you supposed to do?'
'You punish the cause of your hatred, of course.'
'Did you do that? It's utterly wrong and amoral!'
'My deeds are no more important than your actual well-being. Why did you ask about vengeance, Percy?'
'The Umbridge woman in the Ministry, that bitch!' Percy exploded, knuckles whitened on his wand, 'I'm in no mood for details. Let's just say she is beyond infuriating!'
'I can teach you a little useful spell,' Tom offered.
'What spell?'
'Timoris,' said Tom, 'if you cast the spell with your wand, it will incite the most gruesome images to your victim's mind, to let her entertain with her deepest fear over and over again, until she loses her sanity.'
'No – but –'
'If you use it just a tiny bit wandlessly, however, it will only take effect for a short period of time but suffice to bring terror to your enemy – assuring that you truly mean to cause it in the first place, and no one will ever find out. It's a rather ancient incantation and scarcely known nowadays,' he finished smugly.
'That's Dark Magic! And without a doubt, an evil one. Tell me, Tom, you are a dark wizard, are you?' he asked sharply.
'Percy, Percy, I'm really disappointed,' he replied in a dramatically sad tone, 'you are a clever boy: Prefect, Head Boy; you have brains; you have magic and ambition. If only –'
'If only what?' Percy interrupted him indignantly.
'If only you were not so self-righteous. Haven't you realised morality doesn't lead you far?'
'Which is absolutely not true!' cried Percy.
'Is that so?' Tom raised an eyebrow, looking him in the eye.
There was a slight silence, in which bitter memories came flooding to Percy, and then Tom continued, softly, 'have you ever desired to be admired and followed by thousands of people?' his smile widened, 'I think so. As I've pointed out, you and I are rather alike. I know what you – what we – want. And that, will only be accomplished by power.'
He turned his gaze to the window, and his tone rose significantly, 'Those who don't seek it in the right direction are fools.'
'I certainly am not a fool!' exclaimed Percy.
'Oh, then too weak to use the power, to dare break the rules?' taunted Tom, who smiled broadly.
'Rules are to be followed,' answered Percy matter-of-factly.
'True, Percy … But rules are constructed by wizards – brilliant wizards like you and me – we don't follow them blindly, nor do we submit to the pathetic authorities who make them. We are above such brainless mindset,' Tom told him, calmly.
'But rules are subject to morality, the lack of which leads to corruption, corruption sows evil, evil results in destruction!' rallied Percy at once.
Tom laughed. 'Tut-tut, Percy, such naïvety, are we? There is no universal morality: what is good? and what is evil? There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to use it. Daring leads to power, power sows influence, influence results in greatness!'
Percy was feverish and pale all at once.
'Rules, only go so far as a powerful wizard such as myself sees them fit to rule the lesser ones,' Tom concluded gleefully.
And there was a dangerous red gleam in his eyes now; Percy suddenly felt cold inside.
.
Who was he? Percy wondered. No doubt a dark wizard, of which Percy was certain. Was he a Death Eater? Percy knew no Death Eater by that name, and surely no Death Eater that good-looking and powerful. Was he on his own side?
Tom. He knew that name, vaguely, not because it was a common name; it was like a shadow in the background of his memory, and it was disquieting.
Percy was getting increasingly uneasy, till dread filled him.
Restlessly, he paced in his small room, trying to ponder over all the recent events.
Since when did he begin to have those dreams, which Tom seemed to be able to control? And how did he do that?
(flashback)
Percy was striking out of the Knockturn Alley when someone bumped into him, dropping all of his stuff in a panic.
'Watch out!' Percy cried, with a rising annoyance.
A squat man with long dirty ginger hair looked up, startled, ' 'ello, , what … what brought ya here?' he asked in a trembling voice.
'Hello, . Ministry business, of course,' Percy replied pompously, 'you, on the other hand, are up to no good, are you?' Percy eyed him suspiciously with a knowing look, who was crouched on the ground, scrabbling to retrieve the objects scattered around in haste.
'No, sir! Mr. – Mr. Weasley … I – no – well, don't wanna delay ya,' Fletcher stammered.
'Wait!' cried Percy, 'that looks familiar –' he seized Fletcher's hand with a lightening speed.
A crystal bottle with red liquid inside was glittering in the sunlight; Fletcher fidgeted.
'You do know this is a dark object that the Ministry is looking for? Did you steal these stuff somewhere?' with that, Percy shoved all the junky things in his case.
'Come with me now!' he commanded, clutching Fletcher tightly and Disapparated to the Ministry.
Later that night, after he had turned Fletcher and his stuff to the Ministry and returned to his apartment, he discovered a locket in his case, which didn't belong in there: must be one of Fletcher's stuff, carelessly left, he thought.
Curiosity got the better of him. Lying on the bed, he examined the locket, intrigued. It was of a stunning golden colour and beautiful. Percy stared at the letter S engraved in the locket, mesmerised.
Tomorrow I'll give it to the Ministry, he said to himself, and putting the locket beside him, he went to sleep. Somehow, in the back of his mind, a little voice told him not to give the locket to anyone.
(end of flashback)
For some mysterious reason, Percy never handed the locket to the Ministry and it had been on his bed for weeks. Now that he remembered, he took it out and examined it for a second time: he seemed to be seeing a pair of dark eyes – Tom's eyes – staring back at him, smirking; and hearing velvety voices murmur, calling him.
He shuddered.
A magical object with life that can send and control dreams.
Tom. Tom. Tom.
This was awfully familiar. Where had he heard it –
The diary that Ginny wrote into in her first year.
.
'Have you heard the news, Tom?'
'Certainly. You mean the news that –'
'Yes, Professor Dumbledore passed away.'
'How unfortunate. Tell me everything you know, Percy.' demanded Tom quietly.
'Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts last night and Dumbledore was murdered by the potion professor – Snape, who revealed himself as a traitor, as one of them, and fled after that,' Percy hesitated a little.
'Oh, how fascinating,' Tom smile, and continued in a soft voice, 'I wonder – what were the old fool's last words exactly before his oh-so-miserable demise? Did he beg for life? Did he finally understand the so-called power of love he so desperately clung to is useless … Fifty years, fifty years is certainly a long time. Even I have to admit that old fool possessed a certain degree of knowledge and power, but no matter … I always knew I'd have it done; I always knew that I am the greatest sorcerer in the world, more powerful than Dumbledore!' Tom's eyes glinted.
And he laughed, hard; it sent shivers on Percy's spine.
'So. It is true, you are him – Voldemort,' said Percy, his teeth gritted, 'you are thought to be gone: dead or miserably powerless, defeated by a baby ...'
Voldemort's handsome face suddenly contorted into a very angry grimace and he hissed,'you insolent prat! What gives you such notion?'
However, his expression quickly resolved back into a pleasant smile, 'I – Lord Voldemort – am the most powerful and brilliant wizard ever. I know magic that no one has knowledge of, magic that no one dares think, let alone experiment. I've pushed magic to its boundaries and I have conquered death! The mere notion that Lord Voldemort be powerless is laughable, you do realise that now, do you, Percy? At present, this is a mere memory of me talking to you, protected by that charming locket – a family heirloom of mine, actually, owned by the great Salazar Slytherin himself, for I am his direct descendant. Yet you have already felt overwhelming power, you've yet to meet the actual me – The Dark Lord. Amazing, isn't it?'
So. It is exactly like that damned diary. A memory of him. Horrifying things that he had heard from Ginny ran through his mind in a flash. Despite himself, he trembled.
'I'll just destroy the locket, and you'd be gone.' Percy informed him, trying his best to keep calm.
'Tut-tut, Percy, I'm hurt. Have you forgotten these little kisses we shared? Don't you love me?' he lifted his chin, a small mocking smile adorned his face, with his eyes fixing on him, he let his long fingers trace the curve of his face, ever so tenderly, as if he were a caring lover.
'You won't fool me. I know you pretended and you used me, just like what you did to my sister! I despise you!' Percy's heart hammered loudly and faster than ever.
'Your little sister? How interesting. Some day you'll have to tell me that story. Now, on a serious note, do you really think you can destroy it? that you can understand Lord Voldemort's magic and match his power?' Tom's smile hadn't faded; it deepened.
'I can always ask for help,' Percy's right hand tightened into a fist; cold sweat was seeping from it.
'And who would it be, may I ask? Don't you remember that Dumbledore is dead?' he laughed that arrogant laugh again, harder this time.
Then his laughter turned into a smirk, quietly he said,'let me tell you a little secret, Percy. I have used some energy of yours – and I can use more, much more, if I choose to. I can easily possess you or even kill you, if I wish, and get myself a body. However –' he paused dramatically, eyeing Percy intently.
'Lord Voldemort values brains and loyalty. You, Percy, are a smart boy. If only you choose wisely and join me,' his voice was like honey, sweet and full of promise and allure.
'Join me. Together we can rule the world.'
'Never!' Percy spat.
'Temper, Percy,' he smiled again, amused, 'are you this dense? Neither Dumbledore and company nor the Ministry can match Lord Voldemort's power. Should you choose the wrong side, you are bound to fail, which would be a pity, would it not?'
'I will give you one week to think. Do not let Lord Voldemort down.'
.
Later that night, the meeting with Tom continued, in a terrifying way.
Tom's lips were on his own again; they were engaged in such a passionate kiss that he felt immensely powerful, as though he owned the entire world.
People gazed at him in awe. He brandished his wand in an admiring fashion, the crowd immediately followed him, submissively. A thrilling sensation ran through his body at once, electrifying.
Tom, handsome as ever, smiled beside him, pleasantly.
Suddenly, Tom snatched the wand out of him in a flash, laughing coldly, and disappeared. All of a sudden, he felt all the power was mercilessly ripped of him. Feeling powerless, he looked about, helplessly, only to discover that no one was in sight but huge serpents encircled around him, hissing and ready to strike.
They entwined their way up to his body, flicking menacingly, strangling him with red eyes glaring at him. Pain. Pain. Pain. Ghastly pain he never knew the existence of.
'Haven't you got tired of what those people think of you – you pathetic mudblood-loving-family born and tied Weasley, you stupid "teachers' pet", you worthless "Weatherby" boy – always submissive and eternally poor! They wouldn't see your true worth, not with your poor background and status.'
'You are nothing!'
They hissed. And Percy screamed.
.
For the first time in his life, Percy Weasley was truly frightened, as frightened as a Gryffindor can be.
He could feel his heart sink and darken, almost as though a tiny piece of Tom – Voldemort – had taken possession of him.
Could he really kill him?
To join him, was obviously not an option. For one thing, he knew from Ginny's experiences how deceitful Voldemort could be. Sometimes, Percy Weasley could be exceedingly ignorant and nerdy, but he was not stupid. For another, he would never agree with Voldemort's view of morality value, however convincing and tempting Tom's little speech sounded. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing!
Power, he wanted, but he wouldn't pursue power for the sake of power. There is evil. And there is good!
Percy let his mind wander into his family.
He could perfectly picture Molly's warm brown eyes – warm as the hearty soup she made on those freezing winter nights;
Arthur's kind and sincere smile – which used to encourage him greatly whenever he was in difficulty;
Bill's bright blue eyes full of life – they'd wink when he shared one of his favourite books with him;
Charlie's strong arms – when he was younger, they often dragged him out of his room and into the sunshine whenever he'd spent an excessive amount of time alone;
And Ginny, her cheerful petite face – a mocking smile would curl up her pretty lips, and pouting;
Even Ron's disapproving scowl turned out to be quite lovely. Then he remembered that silly letter he wrote to him, in which he warned him against fraternisation with Harry Potter. What a shame.
He could almost see Fred and George's teasing smile and hear their laughter. What would they say? Percy, silly Percy, family-disowning, Dark-Lord-Fraternising moron, kissing slimy Voldie and put himself in a messy.
Percy couldn't help letting out a dry laugh.
(flashback)
The whole family were having breakfast in The Burrow when a large grey owl glided into the sitting room. It hovered a little and dropped a few letters on the table and perched beside Ginny, who let out a small cry of surprise and gave the bird an affectionate stroke.
'Hogwarts letters, finally!' she beamed.
Percy opened his letter and there, a shining badge with the letter P was smiling at him. 'I've been elected as a Prefect!'
'Oh Percy, Percy, how wonderful! Your mother is very proud of you! We all are!' his mother ran to his side and hugged him fondly; Percy felt a warm liquid streaming into his heart.
(end of flashback)
'Expecto Patronum!' shouted Percy.
A silver grey crane shot out of his wind. It winged its way across his apartment room until it reached the bedside table.
That night, Percy thought of no other than his family. He lay on the bed, snuggled up to the faint glow of his Patronus and fell into a restless slumber.
.
The morning sunlight beamed through the window. Percy sat at the desk, contemplating. He had finally decided.
Outside, thick snow covered the ground but the sun was up and the wind was gone, for the time being.
Last night, he didn't have dreams.
But he knew, it wasn't over just yet. Peering at the locket, Tom's eyes were sneering at him.
He was going home. Home, sweet home. And he would talk to Harry Potter. Voldemort was right after all: the Ministry is a bunch of incompetent and ignorant fools.
-FIN-
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A/N: In canon, the locket horcrux is able to see Ron's vulnerability. I've twisted it to fit my own story and hopefully I haven't stretched it too far.
This is my first fanfic. If you got this far, I hope you've enjoyed the story. Reviews are highly welcome.