Percy's Aftermath
"I've come to…"
"Shut up. I've known why you've come," the figure in the chains spat. "Come to write about how the upstart Percy got his due, have you? Well, you can go to bloody hell."
The reporter waved her hands frantically.
"NO! You've got it all wrong. Our newspaper is doing a story on all the major players in the war, and we've just must have yours, sir."
The reporter snickered in her own mind as she saw how her effective her sycophantic comments were. These Deatheaters, they're so easy to manipulate. No wonder He-who-must-not-be-named had such an easy time of it.
"Well, of course," Percy started. "I was pretty important. I helped plan the Final Trap, you know."
"Really? Let me get my equipment first." A brief shuffle and the automatic apparatus appeared, recording everything between the briefest whispers to the rate of Percy's breathing.
"Are you done?"
"Yes. Feel free to begin your story…At your leisure, of course.."
Percy sighed. He could refuse the interview. Something in him knew that her editors would no doubt change his testimony so that he would be seen in an even darker light. But…it didn't matter. After all, the loser of a war couldn't be choosy. At least, this way, he could tell his version of the events.
He leaned back and as his eyes closed, his mouth began to recall that fateful day, just five years ago.
"I was eighteen years old, freshly graduated from Hogwarts and ambitious. Oh, I had grand plans. But mostly, it was to get some money. Most people can afford Hogwarts. Dumbledore's a little lax when it comes to tuition but my parents…they had seven children. Sending them all to Hogwarts was beyond their means. Ronald and the younger kids don't know this but there was heavy borrowing done just to support their tutelage. That's why mum was always so hard on Fred and George's studies. And that's why she was so devastated when they dropped out. They cast aside their duties but I couldn't. My parents also borrowed under my name. Without my permission. It's like indentured servitude…I couldn't be like Charlie. I couldn't just run off and chase dragons…selfish bastard. Only Bill was bringing in any money, but he hadn't hit big time yet so his contribution was small. Bill understands where I come from. You should talk to him…"
"Ah, I can't write this down, Mr. Weasley. Can you…er…stick to the topic?"
Percy's nose flared. "Yes, you have to have your story don't you?" He sighed and began anew.
"So, where did I leave off? The Ministry accepted my application and I bundled off to receive my post. Messenger boy. I had top marks and they gave me nothing more than simple messenger boy. I was assistant messenger boy but messenger boy nonetheless. Who did I work for? Crabbe's older brother, Uther. My lord, was he brainless. Do you know what his marks were in school? Hell, even Ron did better than that troglodyte. But the real world's like that. I was so stupid back then. And I thought I was so smart. I didn't even know what most Slytherins knew the moment they were born."
"Know what?"
"The understanding that to get ahead, hard work isn't enough…"
Percy's eye caught the reporter dozing off and he snapped, "Pay attention!"
"Yes, yes. Go on. The Apparatus takes everything down. Don't—yawn—worry."
Percy could only grumble at the woman's cavalier attitude.
This was his life, after all.
"I… realized…that to get ahead, I had to be like Uther Crabbe. I had to know the right people. People like Lucius Malfoy. Not only was his family name old and respected—he had the galleons to back it up. Many political figures rose to prominence on his gold. Fudge, Kingsley, Cabot, Everfry. I aimed to be one of his cadre. But that was a difficult thing. I was a Weasley, after all. He'd sooner kill me than help."
"So what did you do?"
"I did the obvious. I married into the bloody family."
"Do you mean your relationship with Ignacia Malfoy?"
"Yes, yes. Cia, that's what she fancied herself. Thought Ignacia sounded too pious and rigid. Good god was she fat. It was like making love to a whale."
The reporter chuckled and then asterisked the quote down in her own sqakpad.
"At first, Lucius was skeptical of me. Thought I was Dumbledore's spy. I didn't care about their little war, though. I just wanted to pay off my debts. I hate having debts. I hate having been born with debts. I hate having to go hungry…Never mind. You don't care about that. After a few weeks, I had Cia practically in my pocket, so enamored she was of me. I saw my position change in the Ministry after that. Within a few months I was promoted to manager, executive assistant, and then to second chair of a Ministership itself."
"Are you talking about that dreadful Crouch incident during the G.O.F. tournament?"
"Yes. I became the Head of an entire Department when Crouch disappeared. And no, I had nothing to do with the Deatheaters at that time. I just thought it as mere good fortune. But then, nothing in life is free. Not long afte, Lucius invited Cia and me to the manor for dinner. It was during Christmas. The Malfoys don't celebrate it but since everyone else did, theirs had to be grander, more opulent than anyone's. There were a hundred or so people at their Christmas party. Half of them, I suspect, the Malfoys did not even know. That was how rich they were. Cia once told me where their money came from but I'm not going to go into it with you. You'll find out once the Malfoy tapes get released into the public."
Percy exhaled.
"It seems like an eternity that I've been talking, hasn't it? Well, let me quickly continue. There's so much more. And yet so much less. During the party, Lucius cornered me. I guess that had been his whole intention all along. The very purpose of his invitation. He actually smiled. He said, 'I know your type. I was once young man like you myself. It's why I married Narcissa, actually. But…tread carefully, Mr. Weasley. We Malfoys aren't sticklers for fidelity…as long as it is kept well-hidden. Your Clearwater girl parades her relationship with you too freely. You should do something about her. Or else Ignacia's father might do something regrettable. That would be…unpleasant. For both you and to her.'"
Percy leaned back in his cell.
"That was a genuinely scary moment for me. Ignacia's father, like Lucius, had amassed certain power, but while Lucius tended on the subtle, Ignacia's father was a hammer. I've seen first hand what he was capable of."
"So you broke it off with this Penelope Clearwater?" The reporter leaned forward in earnest interest.
"No," Percy replied as he closed his eyes. "I killed her."
"What?"
"After the Christmas Party, I rushed Ignacia back home. Her father wasn't there. Neither were her two brothers. I remember how that made my heart lurch. But Ignacia was drunk, and it was my duty to settle her safely to bed. Her mother was watching me like a hawk as well. I tried to calm myself down. Ignacia's father could be anywhere. After all, he was a busy man. Deals to cut, muggles to maim, that sort of thing. I thought I was just being overly paranoid."
His eye caught the reporter's recording Apparatus and realized that the recording reel was empty. He opened his mouth a little and smiled…almost knowingly.
"Still, I had to satisfy myself. Lucius' warning had frightened me. When Ignacia's mother finally retired to bed, I rushed out of the house. Penelope's was only two normal Apparition Hops away. I made it in one. Unfortunately, when I arrived, my worst fears were realized."
There was a tight anger in Percy's voice.
"Ignacia's father and his two sons were waiting for me."
"He asked me if I loved the girl. I said no. So I followed as they dragged her out to the Mariner's Harbor. She was tied up, gagged, and hemorrhaging from her eyes. I thought about rescuing her. I really did. But she was already half dead. She could barely stand on her feet, much less flee."
"Oh, Merlin," the reporter whispered. "That's terrible. You shouldn't blame yourself."
"No!" came the fierce reply. "If I had left right after Lucius warned me, she'd still be alive. I chose to stay in that insipid function. I chose Ignacia over Clearwater."
Percy strained to keep his eyes open. He hesitated on whether or not he should divulge the entirety of the details. When he arrived at Clearwater's flat, Ignacia's father had done more than just beat her bloody. The grunts of his sons over his dear Penolope still haunted his dreams. Her blood-soaked undergarments strewn across her face. Her pleading silence that was filled with both surprise and fear. Percy recalled every second of it.
"So Ignacia's father handed me his killwand. 'Kill the bitch,' he said. And so I did. It was my first time using an Unforgivable Curse. Later on, I found out that Ignacia's father hadn't cared about Penelope at all. Like Lucius said, Malfoy men were expected to cheat, as long as they were discreet. This had nothing to do with her. It had been nothing more than a test. To become a Deatheater."
The last sentence was uttered with an acid tone. It was hateful and filled to the brim with self-loathing.
" I had to undergo three trials, to forsake three things: love, family, and gold."
Percy inhaled, turned to the reporter, and inserted an off-the-cuff remark:
"Oh, by the way, do you know what happened to Lucius?"
"Lucius?" The reporter paused a while in uffish thought. Unsurely, she stammered, "He should be, well, dead. Murdered…as you should know."
"Good," Percy said with a gleam. "It was true that he warned me of the Penelope disaster but it was also he that proposed my membership to the Deatheater's in the first place. He even planned that very first trial. I promised myself that I'd see him dead someday."
The reporter fidgeted before whispering, "Do you know who killed him?
"Who?"
"Lucius' murderer. Do you have any ideas on who he could be?"
"You're the reporter. Shan't you be the one telling me?"
There was a silence in the air. The exchange was dangerously awkward, but the reporter did not know her peril.
"Over the course of two years, my career blossomed," Percy continued. "I took Crouch's position as department head. I married Ignacia that year. I was settled, and wanted nothing more than to do my job. Until, of course, the second of my trials came."
"The Hogwarts Train Massacre?"
"Oh? Is that what they call it now?" Percy asked with a raised eyebrow. "We just called it Operation Potterkill. But I do fancy the 'Train Massacre' nomenclature a bit more. Very catchy." A little bit of what sounded like regret crept into his voice. "We hadn't meant to kill those pithlings. All we wanted was the Potter kid."
"How did you get pass the Dumbledorian Defenses?"
"I'd just become the Minister of Magical Law Enforcement. I have access to the train maps up to and leading to Hogwarts Lagrange to the Platform. Besides, after Fletcher and the two other reserve Phoenix members were killed by Sorceress Black, the Order was woefully short on manpower. And to make things certain, Voldemort even allowed himself to be captured. They thought they had already won, you see. The plan was perfect."
"Then what happened?"
"Haha. What happened? The plan failed is what happened," snorted Percy derisively. "When we arrived to the train, those little Gryffindors fought us. Poor saps didn't have a chance. We started with Potter's girlfriend first. Or was she Ron's? Doesn't matter. You see, Potter was indeed on that train. But a Chain Fidelius Charm was keeping him hidden in 'plain view'. Torturing them to get his hiding place would have taken too long; time we did not have. So we tossed them into the furnace. Goyle was a closet necromancer and he broke through to the Secrets fairly quickly. After a while, the very sight of the nercomanced corpses was enough to convince the still-living to divulge their Secret-Keepers. So much for Gryffindor's vaunted courage. After Neville gave his Secret up, Ronald appeared. He was probably the last one. He was Harry's best friend, after all. I knew at once that Goyle would have to necromance him before he'd give his Secret up."
A dark shadow came over Percy's eyes. The corners of his mouth were pursed, and there was an inaudible pain all around him.
"Killing my little brother was one of the hardest things I had to do."
Percy cleared his throat, and forged on, as if nonchalance could make him forget.
"After I drilled his mind, Goyle did his thing, and Harry appeared. He was unconscious. Knocked out by his friends, is my guess. He must have wanted to give himself up. Be a hero."
"But how did you Deatheaters get captured? When we found the train, everyone of your group was dead. Except you."
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Percy slid closer to the reporter.
"What's obvious?"
"There was a traitor."
The room that jailed Percy was quite small. And he, although a felon, was only chained from the wrists. He walked quietly behind the reporter, and whispered gently in her ear.
"There was a traitor, you see. Would you care to know who?" With one quick motion, Percy's chains wrapped around her neck, coming together in a violent sound of metal clashing flesh.
"Voldemort didn't care about me! When the investigation started, I would've been traced back as the person who leaked the train maps. I would lose everything I spent so long in creating. Damn Lucius. He held me under an Imperious Curse. I couldn't notify anyone about the Massacre. Damn you Malfoys all to Hades."
The reporter's eyes were bulging now.
"How did you…know it was me?" she gasped.
"You have no idea how to use that recording apparatus. You were too interested in Lucius, as well. But it was your smell that gave you away, Narcissus. You Malfoys give an awful stench."
"You came to find out who murdered you husband, didn't you? Well, I'll tell you.
It was Harry." Percy gave a hyena laugh. "Yes, a boy killed your great and powerful hubby. When he woke up, and saw us towering over him, he snapped. Have you ever seen raw magical power? Unchecked? It rained over all of us. By the time we could restrain him, he had already killed seven of our members, including your husband."
Percy loosened the chains around her neck and kicked her aside.
"If you want revenge, take your poison needles to Potter. I'm not the one you're looking for."
"How can I trust you?" snarled Narcissa. She rubbed her bruised neck before glaring at Percy with murderous eyes. "From what you've told me, you're nothing more than a Benedict and a liar. I should just kill you for being a traitor to the Dark One—"
"Get out of here, Narcissa," said Percy menacingly. "Your husband was planning to betray Him as well. Like me, he'd spent too much time amassing political power just to surrender it to some new world order."
Percy crept back to his bed to where several documents lay strewn across it.
"Now, leave me. I have to prepare for my upcoming trial with the Wizengamot."
She picked up the last remaining dregs of her dignity and turned to leave. She stopped, however, to say:
"There were two whole squadrons sent to kill Potter. Even if Harry killed seven members…what happened to the rest?"
Percy leaned forward.
"When Harry killed Lucius, the Imperius Curse lifted from me—"
"You?" Narcissus sneered. "Don't make me laugh, liar. You don't have enough magical power to overcome Fudge much less a whole squadron of our top Deatheaters."
With that, Narcissus stomped off. There was no use talking with liars.
Percy just sat there.
Oh, dear Narcissus. Of course I lie. As if I would tell you that I killed your dear husband.
Lucius had not imparted an Imperious Curse. The Chain Fidelius Charm that kept Harry safe had not even been broken.
Lucius, you bastard, you shouldn't have ordered me to kill Ron.
What had that Malfoy creep said?
"Kill him, Percy," Malfoy had said unceremoniously. "He knows who we are."
"Percy? Is that you?"
"Yes, Ron."
"Why? Percy! No. Please don't kill me. Please…"
The mental image of his wand drilling into Ron's skull shocked him awake from his daydream.
No. It's not my fault, Percy thought. His eyes stared solidly at a single cobblestone before him. It's all Harry's fault. He brought Ron into his mess. It's not my fault. At least I took revenge on those bastards for forcing me to kill Ron. What did Harry do? Hide in his stinking Secret hole like a coward.
It's not my fault. No. It's not my fault.
Percy buried his face into his hands.
It's not my…
He wasn't that good of a liar.