Disclaimer: Text in bold is dialogue taken directly from page 487 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, UK edition hardcover.

Thanks to CessZ for beta-ing this one-shot.

Percy Weasley felt uncomfortable.

It had been coming on for weeks – no, months – when the Ministry had started on its campaign of "Magic is Might". Percy had always believed in authority and was most comfortable when provided with a solid set of rules to follow, but the rules themselves had gradually become more and more unviable. Unviable, that is, to any witch or wizard with a conscience.

Making a registry of Muggle-borns? Fine, he could deal with that. It was another census of the magical population and required forms to be filled in correctly and lower-ranked staff to be pulled into line to ensure they conformed. He had felt less comfortable at the trials of these Muggle-borns, though, where they had been asked to identify how they had stolen their magical ability.

Still, though, it was a job, and a good job at that. The way he'd been going, moving up the ranks due to his dedication and hard work, it was looking like he'd be his father's boss in no time.

But still, his conscience had started to protest. Not against his abandonment of his family – while not as convinced as he had once been, he still thought he had made the right decision, though his mother's obvious heartbreak did cut at him a little – but against the more strident decisions of the current Minister, Pius Thicknesse. Even with the Daily Prophet onside, it was getting more and more obvious, even to the general wizarding public, that his orders were being written by Death Eaters.

He looked around his flat. It was sparsely furnished – he only went there to sleep and shower, really, as most of his time awake was spent at work. There was the wireless in the corner that he'd been using to track Potterwatch over the past few months, and maybe the ingredients for one meagre meal in the cupboard, but that was about it. He had never had a visitor to his home, never entertained or even opened the door to a salesperson. Even Penelope had never been here … his thirst for professional advancement had meant that his relationship with her had hit the skids long ago. Thinking about it, he had sacrificed all his relationships for his work – lost everyone who had once been important to him. And for what? For a Minister who was now, obviously, at least to him, in the employ of Lord Voldemort.

Percy had a feeling that something would be happening soon. He had been keeping an ear out for Potterwatch recently, allowing himself to smile at the sound of his brother's voice and listening to what the resistance were doing. (They didn't refer to the Order any more, probably because its leader, Albus Dumbledore, was dead. Perhaps the Death Eaters had wanted to believe that the Order was now finished with – he had never really thought about that before.) And he had felt less and less inclined to report what he'd learned to his superiors at work, because somewhere, deep in his heart, he was starting to feel an affinity with the resistance himself. However, finding a way to fight the Ministry was difficult, not least because traitors – whether proven or not – were being imprisoned with such speed and regularity that it was difficult to keep up.

A month before, he had managed to break free for long enough to make contact with someone he believed was working for the resistance, in as much as Aberforth Dumbledore worked for anyone. The hair on the back of his neck standing up, Percy was sure that he and Aberforth would talk again soon. It was difficult to communicate, of course, as the Floo network was being watched (even for trusted Ministry employees such as himself), but they had been using Patronuses to get the occasional message back and forth.

Yes, he thought, surely he would hear something soon. There was a chill in the air and he couldn't shake the feeling that something important would be happening shortly. Maybe even tonight.

Sure enough, it was less than an hour later that the familiar goat appeared in front of him, drifting in through the window he had left open to get the breeze in. Though early May, it was surprisingly stuffy in London, even with the Dementors around, and any air flow was better than none. (At least, that was what he had told his boss that morning when his open window had been brought up as a potential security risk. That, and he never took any work home anyway so even if a resistance member DID get in, they wouldn't find anything anyway.)

"Troops gathering at Hogwarts," the goat said in Aberforth's grunting voice. "Prepare to fight."

Percy sprang into action. Not even thinking about whether he should try to disguise his intent – that would be clear enough very soon anyway – he grabbed a travelling cloak and his wand, made sure his glasses were on straight, and Disapparated to Aberforth's pub in Hogsmeade.

The landlord nodded at him as he arrived, and he took that to mean his presence was appreciated. "You're the Weasley kid?" he asked gruffly.

"Percy Weasley. Pleased to meet you," Percy said quickly, offering a hand to shake.

The barman didn't take it. "Don't waste time with that, get upstairs," he hissed. "Sitting room. I'll be there shortly."

Heading up the motheaten carpet on the stairs, Percy soon found the right room and sat in an old armchair that had the stuffing coming out in places. A few minutes later, Aberforth joined him.

"Sorry to kick you out like that but the front bar is a bit of a haven for Death Eaters," he said.

Percy was surprised. "Death Eaters? Here?"

The barman nodded. "They need somewhere to traffick their stolen goods, don't they?" he grunted. "I turn a blind eye and they don't pry into my business either." It was clear that this part of the conversation was over but Percy understood – Aberforth was just doing what he needed to in order to get by in this new world. Over the past few months, Percy had been doing the same thing himself.

"Uh – how do I get into Hogwarts from here?" he asked tentatively. Even he wasn't naive enough to believe that he could just march in through the front gates.

"Through here," Aberforth said gruffly, indicating a portrait above the fireplace in which a passageway now appeared. "They're all going through the tunnel to fight. If you get a move on you'll catch the last of 'em."

"Great, thanks," Percy said eagerly, not even baulking at the thought of walking into a painting. This was clearly the way to Hogwarts at the moment, at least without being caught, and if nothing else it certainly beat standing in a toilet and flushing oneself in. Taking a deep breath and clutching his wand tightly, he stepped into the tunnel.

He didn't know what he really expected to find at the other end. Hogwarts under siege, perhaps, or even the Dark Lord himself. What he didn't expect was to find himself, covered in dust and his glasses askew, face to face with almost all of his family. The people he had cut himself off from were the first ones to witness his repentance, and the significance of this fact didn't escape him.

The tension in the room – and what room was this? He didn't remember having been here in all his seven years at Hogwarts – was palpable and remained even through a blatant attempt to break the tension by Fleur Delacour. (Delacour? Or Weasley? Had she married his brother or was he remembering wrong? He wasn't sure.) Finally, after some garbled confessions and admissions of his own stupidity, which took less of an effort than he'd been anticipating, it dissipated and his mother, tears in her eyes, crossed the room and hugged him so tightly that he wondered if he might crack a rib or two. The biggest apology, though, the one that he knew that he had to make before he said anything else, was still before him.

Over his mother's shoulder, Percy sought out his father and looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Dad." It didn't feel like much but it was all he could get out (physically as well as emotionally – his mother still had a very tight grip on him and he was almost struggling for breath) and he hoped that his father understood how much was contained in those three words. From the look on the older man's face, he thought he did.

Finally, it seemed like enough had been said, or expressed, and his return to his family was complete. Odd that it had to take place under such difficult circumstances – with a war raging outside the room they were sequestered in – but he was pleased it had finally taken place. Some things, he realised, were too valuable to lose, and family was one of them.

Before long he found himself following Fred, George, Bill and Fleur out into the castle. The room the tunnel came out in was evidently on the fourth floor, and they made their way down to the Great Hall where it appeared everyone was congregating as a plan was worked out. Automatically moving towards the Gryffindor table, where they had sat for so many years, they found some room and sat down, awaiting orders.

As he sat and waited, looking at the huge number of nervous teenagers huddled together at their House tables, he thought about what he'd done. While he had been surreptitious in his resistance activities before – the little things like NOT reporting Potterwatch – this was beyond the point of no return. No matter what else happened, he had been confirmed as a resistance fighter now, and he knew that his cushy job at the Ministry was a thing of the past. No matter what happened here tonight, he would no longer work for Pius Thicknesse.

"What's up, Perce?" Fred asked amiably. "You're looking almost thoughtful, and we all know that's not like you in the slightest."

"Oh, just thinking about work," Percy said honestly. "I suspect I won't have a job after tonight … I might have to move back home."

"Well, Mum won't mind that at all," George assured him with a grin. "She's dying for someone to baby, what with Ginny at school, Ron off gallivanting around the countryside doing whatever, and Fred and me living in London."

"I never did make it into your shop, did I?" Percy mused. "I wanted to. I went past so many times, but I couldn't bring myself to face you."

"Never too late," Fred said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Drop by next week and we'll fit you out with all the … oh, wait, it's you, Perce, isn't it? Maybe what we sell isn't really your cup of tea."

"I can take a joke," Percy said defensively. "I can even make jokes, sometimes." He paused, taking in the twins' incredulous faces. "Not often, mind, but sometimes," he clarified.

Fred laughed, just as the rest of the Weasleys (minus Ron) joined them at the Gryffindor table and Professor McGonagall started telling the congregation where things stood. "You, joke?" he asked. "You don't remember how to joke, do you? I reckon I'll only believe that when I see it."

They were interrupted by the cold, high voice of Lord Voldemort penetrating the hall, offering a deal – the safety of the school, in return for Harry Potter. Percy knew that deal would never happen – even if Harry did give himself up, which Percy saw as highly unlikely, the school would probably be attacked anyway. Voldemort was like that. Taking a deep breath and sticking out his chest like he used to when he was Head Boy, he looked around at his family.

"This is it, isn't it? Fight or flight?"

Around him, underage students (and a number who were old enough but chose not to fight) were being shepherded out of the Great Hall, leaving behind only those who were prepared to risk everything in the school's defence.

"Too right it is," George said with a grin. "So, Percy my friend, what'll it be?"

Percy, though knowing it was asked in jest, managed to look insulted at the very suggestion that his bravery would falter at this critical point. He had not risked everything in order to come here tonight and then flee at the first sign of danger. "You're asking me that? I thought you were supposed to be smart!" He looked around at his family, his gaze resting on his father, who was looking old, tired, yet determined. "I'm with the rest of you. I'm ready to do what it takes."

"Great to hear," Bill said, beaming at him. "We need as many fighters as we can get. This won't be easy."

Percy nodded grimly and adjusted his glasses. "Well, count me in." He paused, taking another deep breath, and started to prepare himself for what was to come. "I'm ready."