A/ N: Sorry that it's been so long between updates! Also, sorry for Fleur's accent.

Chapter 21

Percy sat hunched over his desk, frantically filling about the paperwork which, once properly completed, filed and processed, would create an official child care program for those orphaned during the war. It was one of the many, many projects he'd started since being promoted to Department head a week ago.

And it had been an extremely long, extremely productive week. He'd slept maybe fifteen hours total all week (something he hadn't pulled off since his N.E.W.T. years) and had only physically left the Ministry premises five times when Audrey had basically kidnapped him for meals and sleep.

To conclude, Percy was buried in work, sleep-deprived, dealing with a full twenty recalcitrant young underlings, and he had never been happier in his life.

Not that the week had gone smoothly, at all. Most of his employees had been students at Hogwarts when Percy had been Head Boy, and they already disliked him. But Percy felt that, with quite a bit of help from Audrey, he'd managed to garner at least some respect.

And there had been quite an incident when it was discovered that one of the workers had been a member of the Slytherin house. Percy had returned from a forced lunch out with Audrey to find that his employees were engaging in a juvenile shouting match concerning the loyalty of the so-called 'Slytherin scum'. It had ended in Percy having to transfer two of the instigators and despite his profuse apologies the young Slytherin had decided to quit the Ministry anyway. Percy wondered if this kind of discrimination was going on in other departments as well…

"Percy!"

An excited voice filled the empty room (Percy had been forced, in order to comply with labor laws, to send his employees home) and Percy glanced up to see a very unusual pair standing in the doorway. So unusual, in fact, that Percy was actually prompted to stop scratching away at the parchment and focus his attention on them.

"Hermione, Fleur," he acknowledged them, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. He knew full well about Hermione and the Weasley women's general dislike for Bill's wife, and though they all got along fairly well now, he didn't think that Hermione would be eager to spend her time with the Frenchwoman. Percy understood why—although he supposed that Bill must see something further in her, Percy found Fleur to be rather vapid and conceited. She had certainly come off that way when they had met during the Triwizard Tournament. "May I hel—"

"Percy!" Fleur interrupted, sweeping into the room and coming to stand in front of his desk. Hermione followed in a less flamboyant matter. The Frenchwoman was beaming, her undeniably flawless face (you had to give Bill credit for that) set into a huge, white-toothed smile. But her expression quickly fell into one of concern. "Joo look terreeble!" she gasped.

Percy felt his ears turn red and he self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it. He hadn't been investing greatly in his personal appearance this week—he imagined he must look pretty bad, although Audrey hadn't said anything about it when they'd went out to lunch earlier.

Hermione let out a disapproving noise at Fleur's outburst. "You look fine, Percy," she said judiciously. "Just a little…tired." She crossed her arms, holding a scroll of parchment to her chest.

"Jour 'air ees so much curlier zan Bill's," Fleur commented idly as she scrutinized him. She looked like she wanted to continue, but Hermione swiftly cut her off.

"That's not what we came here to talk about," she said hastily.

"Then what do you want?" Percy asked, trying to keep a polite voice despite his mounting annoyance at them for interrupting him.

Hermione and Fleur exchanged a glance, their eyes full of excitement and pride. Percy sat up a little straighter, his curiosity peaked. What is this about?

"Well," Hermione said, her tone upbeat and proud like she had just uncovered a long sought-after fact in the library. "I was reviewing some of the current laws a few weeks ago and I found some…disturbing things. So I talked to Fleur and we've been working on this." She held out the scroll to Percy. "We weren't sure exactly who to bring it to at first, but I thought that, considering the work you've been doing, you'd be a good person to make sure that this is taken seriously."

Both Fleur and Hermione watched him eagerly as Percy slowly unfurled the scroll and began to read the contents. The title, carefully calligraphied in a flowing script, caught his eye first.

THE REMUS LUPIN BILL FOR WEREWOLF EQUALITY

Percy looked back up at Hermione, who looked absolutely ready to burst. "The laws that the Ministry have regarding werewolves are disgusting," she said vehemently, tossing her bushy brown hair over one shoulder. "They basically legalize, no, mandate, discrimination. And all of them come from well before Thicknesse took over."

"Eet ees terreeble," Fleur added, shaking her head. "Bill ees not a werewolf, but after Greyback attacked 'im, I zought very much zat he would be. I looked into werewolf rights zen, and zey are horreeble."

Hermione picked up the line of thought. "They're not fair, and we can't have that going on in the Ministry, especially after we just fought a war to prevent intolerance. This bill repeals all the current discrimination laws in place and makes it illegal for anyone to discriminate against werewolves." Hermione paused in her speech, taking in a deep breath. "And you know how good a teacher Remus was," she said softly, eyes taking on a sad look. "The only reason he left Hogwarts was that people found out he was a werewolf and pressured him into leaving. That's why we're naming it in his honor." She stopped and sucked in another deep breath. "So, what do you think?"

Percy sat back in his chair, eyes moving over the rest of the writing on the parchment, although his brain wasn't really processing it. Suddenly, all he could think about was the late Professor Lupin, who had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in his N.E.W.T. year, and the best of the seven DADA teachers Percy had endured during his time at Hogwarts. The only one, in fact, that he had actually liked…

-flashback-

Percy sat at his usual desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying to ignore the blather of the other students going on around him. He idly studied the grindylow tank in the corner of the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the nasty, yellow-eyed creature through the murky waters.

He noted with annoyance that class had officially started exactly three minutes ago, and yet Professor Lupin still wasn't here. He bit back a sigh—they'd only had a few lessons with the man, and despite his shabby, unkempt appearance Percy had had high hopes that he'd turn out to be a good teacher. However, it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. Resigned, Percy began going over the D.A.D.A. N.E.W.T. syllabus, which he had memorized, in his head.

The door to the classroom swung open and Professor Lupin shuffled in, clutching his briefcase and looking even more disheveled than usual. There was a smattering of concerned mutterings.

"Are you alright, sir?" Mary, a black-haired Gryffindor, asked, eyeing him uneasily.

Lupin just smiled disarmingly, waving off their concern. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. If you're going to worry," he added in a mockingly grave tone, "worry about your grades."

There was a rumble of laughter throughout the classroom, although Percy felt a twist of fear in his gut.

"But seriously, relax, everyone," Lupin continued. He placed his briefcase on his desk and then turned back around to face them, clapping his hands together bracingly. "I hope that today's will be a fun lesson. It's entirely practical, so you will only need your wands."

Everyone in the class immediately perked up at that. Percy did as well. Particularly in their final year, very few D.A.D.A. lessons were purely practical…

"All of you up, and follow me!" Lupin called cheerfully, marching out of the classroom. In an excited flurry, all the students grabbed their wands and followed. They walked through the corridors and into the staffroom.

The students all gathered nervously at the back as Lupin closed the door. Percy did a cursory examination of the room, wondering where the creature they would be fighting was hiding. The only article of note in the room was a rather large, imposing wardrobe in the center of the room. Percy swallowed nervously.

"Now," Professor Lupin began. "A lot of you are going to think the spell I'm about to teach is insultingly easy, and that's because it is." There were a few surprised blinks from the class. "Normally, I teach this at the 3rd year level, but I found out that you all hadn't learned it yet, so I thought we would set aside a day to go over it." He walked over to the wardrobe and, after a pointed glance to class to get their attention, rapped his knuckles on the wooden door.

Percy flinched as there loud thunk! from inside the wardrobe, as though something was trying to get out. The entire class shifted back a couple of steps.

"Does anyone have a guess as to what's in here?"Lupin asked, eyes gleaming in amusement at their response.

"It's a Boggart," Percy said quickly, straightening his glasses.

"Correct, Mr. Weasley. But can you tell me what a Boggart looks like?"

"No, sir," Percy replied, catching the trick question instantly. "No one can. It takes the form of what the closest person fears most."

There was an uneasy murmuring through the class that Lupin didn't seem to notice. "Exactly. Which is why I think it's important that you students learn the spell to deal with a Boggart, because although it requires relatively easy magic, it can be quite terrifying to face one. The incantation you must use is 'Riddikulus'."

"Riddikulus," the class automatically chanted back.

"Yes, yes, very good," Lupin said, nodding in approval. "But you need a little more than an incantation to finish off a Boggart. As the wording of the spell implies, you must think of your worst fear in comical terms. Make sense?" There were several hesitant nods. "Excellent!" Lupin clapped his hands together. "Who wants to go first?" No one volunteered. Percy swallowed nervously, shuffling his feet. He didn't want to go at all—he found it very difficult to think of something funny in general; putting his worst fear in a humorous context would be nearly impossible. "Come on," Lupin urged. "No one is leaving until you've all had a shot at this."

Finally, Oliver Wood, who Percy figured was worried about missing Quidditch practice, stepped forward, a stoic expression on his face as though he was stepping up to his own execution.

"Very brave of you, Mr. Wood," Lupin smiled. "Just step up here, and I'll open the wardrobe."

Oliver took his wand out and gave a slight nod to the Professor to show him he was ready. Lupin pointed his wand at the wardrobe, and the dark door swung open. Percy held his breath and drew backward as waves of dark mist billowed out as a shrouded figure—Oliver's greatest fear—stepped into the room.

There were several scattered snickers and Percy let out his breath in an exasperated sigh as Oliver's fear came into full view. It was a sneering Severus Snape holding the Quidditch Cup.

Oliver shuddered in disgust before raising his wand and casting, "Riddikulus!" Suddenly, a roaring Gryffindor lion leapt from the cup and devoured Snape whole. Oliver grinned in triumph, and there was a smattering of applause.

"Well done!" Lupin complimented as a satisfied Oliver returned to the cluster at the back of the room. "Who wants to go next?"

Realizing that it wasn't so difficult, students began to step forward. Percy, however, still hung back.

He watched as his classmates tried out the spell. Allison turned a fire-breathing dragon into a smoke-puffing lizard, and a Ravenclaw boy charmed the wings off a giant was, causing it to fall uselessly to the ground. All the time, he was slowly edging further and further backwards, hoping that class would end before he had a chance…

"Mr. Weasley," Lupin called out. "How about you give it a go?"

Damn. Trying not to show his uneasiness, Percy nodded quickly and headed to the front of the room. He tried to think of what would appear as he faced the Boggart. Professor McGonagall, telling him he had failed his N.E.W.T.s? Dumbledore expelling him from Hogwarts? Or maybe it would be even worse—Minister Fudge, telling him he'd never work for the Ministry?

Percy had almost reached the wardrobe now, and his steps faltered slightly. Had his fears always been so dependent on grades and jobs? Not that there was anything wrong with that—in fact, he prided himself on it. His classmates were still concerned with unimportant things, he was thinking about the future.

Still, he could remember a time in his life when he'd had other fears…years and years ago, when You-Know-Who was still alive…

He had now reached the wardrobe, and tried to swallow the lump rising in his throat. Just picture them in a funny hat, or something, he thought to himself. Although considering Fudge's lime green bowler, he might have to come up with something a little more imaginative if the Minister appeared…

Lupin flicked his wand, and the wardrobe once again opened. Percy raised his wand and braced himself as the shrouded figure stepped forward.

His blood turned to ice as the dark mist cleared to reveal a black-cloaked figure with smooth, silver mask.

The staffroom was suddenly filled with gasps of shock and fear, but Percy barely heard them. He stood dumbly, wand outstretched, unable to remember what he was supposed to do. His stomach had twisted into a tight knot, and his mind had gone completely blank, engulfed by terror. Terrible sounds were drifting into his ears. Shouts, screams, the sounds of crying babies and toddlers…

Suddenly, Lupin stepped between him the Death Eater, and the figure vanished to be replaced by a huge, yellow full moon. "Riddikulus!"Lupin casted, and the moon turned into a deflating balloon which flew back into the wardrobe.

Percy slowly let his arm fall, chest heaving. As his terror dissipated, he became painfully aware that every one of his classmates was staring at him in silence. His pale skin flushed. They must think I'm so pathetic, unable to perform simple 3rd year magic.

Lupin cleared his throat awkwardly. "That's enough fun for one day. You can all take an early dinner."

Face flaming, Percy moved to flee the room along with the other students, but he was stopped by Lupin's voice.

"Mr. Weasley, could you stay for a moment?"

Percy's heart sank. Brilliant, he probably thinks I'm an idiot. He turned to face his Professor, extremely alarmed by the fact he suddenly had to force back tears.

"I'm sorry, sir," he blurted out as soon as the last student left and the door swung shut. "I know I should have been able to perform that spell. If you let me try again, maybe I could—"

"Percy," Lupin cut him off, and the gentleness of his voice threw the redhead. "I didn't ask you to stay so that I could tell you off."

"You didn't?" Percy squeaked. He couldn't possibly think of anything else—he had failed, at a simple spell, no less.

A small smile quirked Lupin's worn-down face. "Of course not."

"But it's simple magic, and I couldn't do it…"

Lupin sighed, and he sat down on a table. "In pure magical theory, facing a Boggart is not difficult. But if you plan on getting a N.E.W.T. in this class, you're going to have to learn that fighting the Dark Arts involves a lot more than theory."

Percy shifted uneasily, wishing very much that there was chair for him to sit in. He felt so awkward and vulnerable, standing here.

"You should be proud of your performance today, Percy," Lupin continued, and Percy couldn't help the little noise of disbelief that escaped his voice. It made Lupin frown. "I mean that."

"But I couldn't do it," Percy muttered, his blush intensifying and his gaze dropping to the floor. "Everyone else could…"

"Everyone else's fears were vapid. Losing the Quidditch cup? Bumblebees? Your fear is real, Percy, and truly terrifying to everyone who lived during the war." Lupin's face was deathly serious. "And that makes it nearly impossible to laugh at. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Percy nodded, gaze still on the ground. A few moments passed in silence, until he found the courage to ask the question prevalent in his mind. "But, sir… I wasn't thinking about Death Eaters when I faced the Boggart. I was thinking about, I don't know, failing my N.E.W.T.s or something." His blush deepened further, knowing full well that that was the kind of fear that Lupin had been mocking only minutes ago.

Lupin nodded, eyebrows furrowing as he thought about what Percy had said. "A Boggart is a remarkable thing," he said finally. "It has the ability to reach into your mind and see what you truly fear, even if you cannot."

Percy blinked, considering the connotations of that statement. "Then why did it turn into the moon for you?" he curiously asked.

Was it possible for Lupin to get even paler? "It's a long story, one that I'm sure you don't have time for, with everything that's going on," the professor replied hurriedly. He stood, brushing off his patchwork robes. "If you want to try the Boggart again, you may, but this doesn't change how I view you as a wizard. You're quite adept with your magic." Percy bit back an undignified grin at the praise. "And now I know you have your priorities straight, at least in your subconscious mind."

"Thank you, sir," Percy said, unable to think of anything better to say.

Lupin smiled. "I'm embellishing nothing, Percy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see Professor Snape."

Percy watched as Lupin strode out of the room, leaving him alone with the shaking wardrobe. Briefly, he considered opening the wardrobe and facing the Boggart again, but his cowardice won out. He fled the room, trying to keep Lupin's words of encouragement in his mind.

-end flashback-

Percy placed the scroll back on his desk, feeling an uncomfortable twist of guilt in his stomach. He remembered after it had come out that Lupin was a werewolf—he'd agreed completely with those who wanted him fired as a teacher. He'd been so angry with the man for putting his little brother and his friends in danger…

Percy swallowed the lump rising in his throat and nodded tightly. "I'll…er…I'll do my best to make sure this gets passed. It's a disgrace that the Ministry still allows werewolf discrimination to go on." He carefully rolled the scroll back up, trying to keep down his emotion.

Hermione and Fleur beamed at him.

Seamus wanted to cry.

He couldn't stand it anymore, his head was going to explode, he needed to get out of here. The smell had become truly crippling, and they were all staggering around nauseous and miserable.

Oliver Wood, who had been working here since the Quidditch season had been postponed, had loudly organized a cycling system—two or three people at a time went up to breathe the sweet, non-toxic air while the rest of them labored underground in the dark bowels of Azkaban. But Seamus had allowed a sickly Beauxbatons boy to take his time outside, and now he was really suffering for his kindness.

So far, they had uncovered the decayed bodies of seven prisoners. They were easily the most repulsive things Seamus had ever seen…and now he felt terrible for thinking that, for those rotting flesh-covered skeletons had once been living, breathing human beings with friends and families who loved them.

"We've gotten everything that's down here," Oliver forced out through the rag tied around his head. "We're going up, mate, come on."

Seamus let out a long sigh of relief, but didn't trust himself to talk just yet. He silently followed the numb procession of workers up the ladder they had conjured back into the main prison chamber, through a series of carefully marked corridors and finally out onto the surface of the island. Seamus tore off the rag, gratefully taking in gulps of cold, clean night air.

Oliver stood beside him, staring up at the starry night sky. The spray from the churning black sea wet their clothes and faces. He shivered.

"What's going to happen now?" Seamus finally asked, wrapping his arms around himself.

"You mean with the…" Oliver seemed to cast about for the right word. "Bodies?" he said weakly.

"Yeah," Seamus mumbled.

"I've heard about these spells," another one of the workers, a woman with short black hair, spoke up. "They're very difficult to perform, and take a while, but they can determine who a dead body was, even if its, you know… like the ones we found," she finished quietly.

"So they can identify them?" Seamus said hopefully. At the very least, these people should get proper burials by their families.

"Yeah," the woman responded. "It's only a matter of time."

Keep a look out for the next chapter, "The Beetle".