All characters and settings remain the property of JK Rowling.

THE JOURNAL OF PERCY I WEASLEY, MARCH 5TH 1998.

"Nobody is neutral any more, Weasley. It's time to choose a side and stick to it."

This is my essential dilemma as it was presented to me this very afternoon by no less a person than the Minister himself. I stood in front of Minister Thicknesse's impressive mahogany desk and he sat behind it. I would go so far as to say that he lounged in a relaxed manner. This was not a formal meeting, but a chat between colleagues. I, of course, bowed and agreed with him.

He continued to speak, saying, "The question has been asked, Weasley, as to whether you are capable of loyalty to the current Ministry, given your family background."

I assured him that I no longer have any contact with my family and that I am thoroughly loyal to his administration.

"Good," he continued, "but are you loyal to those to whom the Ministry is loyal?" As he asked this question he gave the impression of serious contemplation.

I replied, "Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. I am only interested in the … er …" I tried to think of a synonym for 'interests', having already used 'interested', but none came to mind, " … er … interests of the Ministry. Sir."

I was understandably proud when he replied that he had thought as much and that he himself had vouched for my trustworthiness. Those who had doubted me had, therefore, been silenced.

However, he added, "There will be checks. I am not supposed to warn you of this, but there will be Legilimens operating in this building as of next week. I've stuck my neck out for you, Weasley. Don't let me down. See to it that nothing will be found which could embarrass me."

I bowed again and promised him that my thoughts were already completely in line with current official thinking. He then dismissed me from his presence with a friendly wave of his hand and I backed out of the office with my head appropriately lowered.

I stood for a few moments in the corridor, breathing deeply and thinking clearly. My career is of the utmost importance to me. I am prepared to sacrifice anything in its pursuit. It will save me. There is no way any mind reader will find a scrap of family loyalty or fondness in me.

Because I shall hide it.

And anything else which it might be prudent to keep secret in the present political climate.

I returned to my desk in the Outer Office and assessed the dozen other clerks who are my immediate colleagues. Surely some of them would prove to be less loyal than myself. Each failure of theirs would put me in a better position for the next available promotion. In fact, some of my superiors might even fall foul of this Legilimancy campaign, thus creating opportunities for just such a promotion.

Minister Thicknesse and his administration demand absolute loyalty. And purity. My blood was checked earlier in the year. Two colleagues were found to have traces of Muggle blood and were demoted accordingly. But there are other types of purity. I shall have to be careful.

I worked with my usual diligence for the rest of the day, while half of my brain prepared a strategy for survival.

Mem #17, Treehouse, Ottery St Catchpole Without, late June 1986

It was a light late evening in summer. A slight breeze blew in the tops of the tallest trees of the copse, which was mostly planted with slim birches and short hollies. The exception was the old oak at the centre with the treehouse built into it.

A blond eight-year-old boy leaned excitedly out of the window cut into one side, withdrew quickly and re-appeared at the open end where the rope-ladder hung.

"Pull up the ladder, Cedric," someone calmer, but not much older, said from inside.

It was Percy, aged about nine, sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor and watching his friend. Cedric coiled the rope-ladder into one corner and then asked, "Can we do the torches now?"

Percy shook his head and then pushed his new glasses back up his nose. "They work with batteries," he explained, "and they'll run out of energy. We should save the torches for when it's properly dark and we really need them."

Cedric stood on one leg for a moment before going back to the window-hole. He gripped its edge and swung his feet, before leaping backwards and landing in the middle of the floor.

"Sit down, you're rocking it," Percy advised gently.

Cedric asked anxiously, "Is it going to break?" He sat down suddenly enough o make the thin wood vibrate again. "Will it fall down SMASH?" he clapped his hands together. "And we'll die in tiny pieces?"

"No, it's all safe. Dad's charmed it."

"But it's like a real Muggle treehouse?" Cedric demanded enthusiastically.

Percy nodded. He handed Cedric one of the sleeping bags and carefully laid out the other for himself. By the top he neatly placed his torch, book and bottle of water. He placed the 'midnight feast' tin in the centre of the floor. As Cedric made no move to copy him, he took back the other sleeping bag and laid it down by the opposite wall, parallel to his own.

"Did you see me at Sports Day, Percy?" Cedric asked. He looked avidly into the older boy's face, seeking approval. "I won everything and I didn't even magic the egg onto the spoon."

Percy grimaced. "I did magic mine and still came second to last. I hate Sports Day."

Cedric looked crest-fallen. "It's my favourite school day all year," he said. "You get to be good all the other days 'cos you're clever."

"I'm glad you beat the twins," Percy offered. "And I bet they cheated at everything!"

Cedric was mollified. "I was partner with George for three-legged and he wanted to do a spell-thing on our shoes and I wouldn't let him," he said proudly.

"Good for you. Rules are there for a reason."

"I wish it was you in my class, not them," Cedric huffed after a brief thought.

Percy said, "If I were a month younger and you were a month older we would have been in the same class. It would have been good. It's lonely being the only one from a Magic family. You can't properly be friends with people when there's so much you can't talk about to them."

"I can't properly be friends with Fred and George so it's a bit the same," Cedric sympathised.

"Shall we get into our sleeping bags now?" Percy suggested. They did.

"Where's your rat?" Cedric asked.

"Back in my room. With Ron. He'll be fine."

"Good. I don't want him running over my face in the night. When do we have our midnight feast?"

"Midnight," Percy answered.

"How do we know when it's midnight?"

Percy cast a Tempus: 9.15pm.

"That's cheating! We're being Muggles!" Cedric complained, "I didn't even bring my wand. How long is that before midnight?"

They didn't make it to midnight. Cedric persuaded Percy to bend the rules and the feast was eaten, the torches played with and the boys asleep by eleven o'clock.

In the pitch dark of the middle of the moonless night, Percy was woken by a sliding, shuffling noise.

"What's there?" he asked, panicked.

"Cedric."

The noise continued and turned out to be the sound of a sleeping bag inching over wooden planks. It came to a halt beside Percy and he felt the hard warmth of a leg against his own.

"I'm not scared," Cedric said.

Percy didn't reply, he just wriggled his shoulder up to his friend's and they both went back to sleep.

THE JOURNAL OF PERCY I WEASLEY, MARCH 5TH 1998.

NOTE TO SELF: DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING.

This evening as usual I returned alone to my bedsit. It is not a large place and the furnishings and décor are not as I would have chosen them, nor is the landlord enthusiastic about carrying out the necessary repairs; however, I keep it clean and it is a mere stepping stone. In time I will have a very comfortable life.

I locked the door and warded it, then checked the room for spying devices and temporarily sound-proofed it. It is safest to be a little paranoid.

On my way home from work I had effected the purchase of a particular item consisting of a leather case containing a collection of glass vials. Naturally, I have no access to a Pensieve, but that is unimportant. I neither intent to view these memories nor to pass them to anyone else for viewing. Indeed, some will be destroyed. Most, however, will be stored safely until the war is over, and then replaced, should that be a prudent course of action in whatever circumstances we find ourselves at that time.

Yes, I am aware that there is a war on. Denial disappeared when Scrimgeour did. The Ministry has clearly fallen to Death Eaters. I was surprised by how many of them were already working there. But I have stayed.

I put my wand to my head, carefully withdrew a silver thought and captured it in the first vial, which I stoppered and labelled: "Mem #1, Quidditch World Cup campsite, afternoon, August 1994."

I repeated the process. I have spent the rest of this evening siphoning off every memory which I would prefer to keep secret from my employers. Before I retire I shall remove and destroy the memory of this night's work.

NOTE TO SELF: DO NOT READ THE PRECEEDING.