Autor's Note:

This chapter feels a bit filler-ish, but I think it's important nonetheless. And many thanks for the last reviews of "Nise Tucker" and "kyungwork".

Bureaucracy Lost

The Ministry of Magic still held a special place in Percy's heart. Before it became a cesspool of injustice and despotism, it had stood for everything he could believe in. Order, law and prosperity. It bound the chaotic community of witches to wizards together into something greater. A common purpose.

And despite the disappointment he had suffered at the hands of reality, this was still an admirable aspiration that had never truly left him. And yet he also could not forget what he had experienced in his time. And that, unfortunately, was even before the Death Eaters seized control.

The failure of institutions, autocratic decisions, bribery and ultimately a ghastly level of nepotism. He had never been blind to these faults, but had believed that with him in charge, once he had moved up to the top, they would be a thing of the past. Only after the change of leadership had he lost this naivety completely.

And now coming and going here again quite regularly filled him with contradictory feelings. Three weeks had passed since the unfortunate end of his welcome ceremony in Black Manor, and he had spent the last two here frequently. His theoretical examinations were now behind him and he had found them rather silly in their simplicity. Well, not so much astronomy and history of magic, but even these he should ever have finished with an Expectation Exceeded.

Every time he got into the lift to get to the Department of Magical Education, which was next to his first job at the Ministry, the Department of International Magical Cooperation, on the fifth level, he had to suppress the urge to go down to the ninth level instead. To where he had spent most of his time here. His department for the preservation of magical knowledge. Of course, it didn't even exist yet at this time. The great reorganisation had not yet taken place and most of the works in his archive still rested in the shamefully chaotic disorder of the Department of Mysteries.

It was strange to view this makeshift solution to his life with melancholy. But the archives had also been a constant in his old life, where otherwise - beyond his energetic development of a functional time-travel ritual - there had been only grim emptiness. The department had not even been particularly useful. Checking requests to see documents, picking out those items and putting the necessary curses on them so that they could be found again if they were stolen. And, of course, handing over the documents to those few who had filled out the extensive application correctly and completely, while he pierced them with a dour look that made it unmistakably clear that they were lucky to be allowed to enter the archives at all.

At the time, he himself had written the extensive restrictions on access to archive holdings. The other departments had complained, but since the dark lord obviously had no interest in others knowing more than he did, he had probably supported Percy's regulations with full approval. Otherwise, all the complaints about him would surely have prompted him to change his methodology. He had to stifle a grin when he thought of the ill-tempered employees of the Department of Mysteries who regularly grovelled before him in order to gain access that he had denied them due to incorrectly filled out forms.

He would probably not return to that life. He would miss the very unique magic that was inherent only in bureaucracy. But Percy had not, after all, travelled back in time to enjoy himself.

Today he had his last practical magical exam. And contrary to his expectations, he had thoroughly enjoyed the previous demonstrations of his magical talents. Of course, he was a middle-aged wizard in spirit who had undergone intensive training himself, so the standard was quite low for him. Perhaps that was why it was ridiculous to feel a little elated by the undeniable enthusiasm of his assigned examiner.

Aled Cynwrig was a very old Welsh wizard who had initially met Percy with undisguised scepticism and also a certain amount of annoyance at the extra work he had caused them. But after the first test, he had already shown himself enthusiastic.

After Percy had waited for perhaps fifteen minutes in a chair outside the department, Professor Cynwrig finally came to collect him.

In his creaky voice he explained: "Now just one more little exam and then you will have successfully completed your grandiose qualification. After your performance in Transfiguration yesterday, I'm sure it's little more than a formality."

Although transfiguration was certainly Percy's weakest discipline when it came to the active use of spells, he could only regard the requirements as a joke. Vanishing Spells, plus - unlike in his original OWLs - a whole host of transfigurations taught over the years at Hogwarts. He had implemented them in as much detail and complexity as was feasible.

It was simply a joy to work with his new wand. Everything seemed to require less concentration and even the details that had always been so difficult for him, he could now create with greater ease. Professor Cynwrig had delightedly praised him, quite rightly, as being far above the level of a fifth grader. He had been a little embarrassed by that comment.

Professor Cynwrig finally led him to the small room designated for just this kind of extraordinary test. Of course, until Percy's request, the room had instead been used to store old documents. This was obvious as some of the filing cabinets were still in the room - just pushed to the side. The departmental staff were, after all, keen to keep the right to extraordinary examinations under wraps as much as possible.

"Now Mr Prewett, let us begin," Professor Cynwrig said, placing an egg cup on the floor in front of them. "The first part is to make this egg cup do several somersaults with a levitation spell. After that, we want you to do a shrinking spell, cheering charm, summoning spell and lastly a disillusionment spell. For the second and fifth tasks, please use this turtle and you may cast the cheering charm on me."

As he said the latter, he placed a turtle about the size of his hand on the floor next to the egg cup. Percy, feeling very underwhelmed, asked awkwardly: "Is there a task that would earn me bonus points?"

Professor Cynwrig considered this for a moment and then replied, shaking his head, "Honestly, this is probably already the hardest practical OWLs exam we've held in three decades, since the use of the Disillusionment Charm is no longer taught as standard in Hogwarts' fifth year as it used to be. If you can do that one competently, you won't have to worry about bonus points."

Sighing, Percy set to work. Without asking permission, he performed the first task with Piertotum Locomotor instead of Wingardium Leviosa. He had his pride after all. Besides, he saw little point in pronouncing the spells loudly. Over the years, he had become so accustomed to casting silent spells that it was difficult for him to act otherwise.

The other spells were quickly done: he disillusioned the shrunken turtle, which seemed really invisible due to its lack of movement, and summoned the egg cup into his hand. The last thing he did was to hit his examiner with a cheering charm, which was so strong that Percy had to cast the counterspell after five minutes, as the examiner seemed unable to free himself from the spell.

Still panting from his fit of laughter, Professor Cynwrig said, "As expected, a top performance! Thank you for your display of skill. I find it almost unfortunate that we can't let you take your NEWTs without having acquired OWLs previously. Somehow I have the feeling that you would already be able to pass this exam without any problems. Especially when I consider your talent in silent casting. But I'm afraid I didn't make the regulations. You can go now Mr Prewett. You will receive your results in a few days. I am looking forward to personally examining your NEWTs, I will insist on it. Until then, I wish you the best."

After a curt farewell of his own, Percy left the fifth level and headed for the atrium. There he strolled listlessly to the fireplaces. Lucretia had asked him to take the Floo network to Hogsmeade after his examination. They would meet a representative of the school there so that they could assess him before his admission.

The purpose of all this was not quite clear to Percy. After all, so many children came to Hogwarts who would turn out to be good-for-nothings and evildoers in their time there. But he was apparently suspicious. Strange people.

Perhaps it was because of how rare it was for students to attend school in an exceptional way, that is, not starting in the first year. Or it was simply an old rule that had to be observed. That sounded the most likely to him and still something he could understand a little. Then they were just doing their job.

"Hogsmeade, the Three Broomsticks," Percy grumbled as he stepped into the green fire. Once there, he made the ashes on his clothes disappear with a wave of his wand. Just at that moment he remembered that officially he was not allowed to use magic when he was "unsupervised". Though no one seemed to have noticed, he couldn't help cursing his carelessness. He had seen with Harry Potter how easily underage magic could be used as an excuse to brand disliked minors as criminals.

After a brief moment of orientation, he saw his self-professed mother sitting in a seat at the other end of the inn, talking to someone of whom Percy could only see the back. It was, however, obviously a rather fat man whose remnants of greying blond hair were combed over an unmistakably balding head.

When he finally reached the table, he recognised him. His name was Horace Slughorn. While Percy knew the man had taught at Hogwarts, that was not how Percy knew him. After all, his reinstatement as a teacher had happened long after Percy had already left the school. No, Percy knew him from the show trial against him, in which Percy had been involved as a court clerk.

The trial had been strange, as Slughorn had not behaved as many had expected. The man had remained silent in almost stoic composure until, at the end, he had shouted into the courtroom, "Tom, you too will find your judge someday."

Of course, virtually no one had understood who this Tom the old man was talking about was supposed to be. Percy had looked puzzled as well, but it had helped him connect the dots. Because this Tom had to be connected to the Death Eaters somehow. He had gone through all the Toms he knew and finally arrived at a non-person Ginny had once told her about in a quiet hour.

She and he had never been close, not really. But in his last year at Hogwarts, she had told him a little about her patchy experiences, which had been triggered by the dark magical artefact in the form of a diary. His parents had hardly said anything about it and had even forbidden them to bother Ginny with it, so that she wouldn't have to relive the horrors. Although that had probably been directed more at the twins, Percy had of course still kept his mouth shut.

But apparently it did her good to talk about it. At this point, Percy probably could have established a better relationship with her. But he didn't. Of course he listened and said what he thought would be helpful. But her willingness to talk ebbled away quickly.

Tom Riddle, a magical construct of memories. Definitely more than an enchanted painting, but that was easy enough to accomplish when the price was unimportant. Potter had even told Ginny that it could manifest as an illusion. There had been dark simulacra of this kind throughout history. Rarities that usually required multiple sacrifices of loved ones to function in a semi-natural way. Of course, they were parasites and required foreign life to act on their own. Beings with cold intellects limited by their innate instincts.

In this respect, they were a bit like vampires, taking on a powerful, almost immortal form at the expense of others. However, dark simulacra were never that efficient. He had not heard of any that had really existed for long, or even made much of an impact. Presumably there was an implied curse on them as the corrupted form of being they ultimately were.

In any case, it had taken Percy little time to uncover the connection between Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort. He had never found any conclusive proof, but it made too much sense to be completely fabricated out of thin air. Voldemort had come from somewhere. The fact that Riddle had suddenly disappeared and then shortly afterwards the ominous figure of the Dark Lord had appeared for the first time did the rest to strengthen his suspicions.

Perhaps Voldemort had wanted to eliminate the last people who had known of his original identity when he ordered Slughorn's execution. And since the man had fought the Death Eaters in the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy could probably see him as a potential ally. So he was to be on his best behaviour.

Before Lucretia or Slughorn could address him, Percy had already held out his hand and said, "Professor Slughorn, if I am not mistaken? I am Percival Prewett. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"I see, my reputation precedes me like a startled horse," the portly man replied jovially as he accepted and shook Percy's hand. "Take a seat. You need have no fears that this meeting will jeopardise your place at Hogwarts. It a mere formality."

Percy sat down beside the woman and with a thoughtful expression on his face, he asked, "What sort of formality, Professor?"

"Ah, old dusty regulations." replied Slughorn, taking a sip from the wine glass that had rested in front of him at the table. "You must understand, when Hogwarts opened its doors in those dark medieval times, the fortress was more a refuge for outcast souls than a school. Of course it was that too, but this was not yet its only function. Yet trust was tenuous in those days. In the end, fear of infiltration and betrayal drove even the founder of my schoolhouse away in anger.

Since those days, there has been a rule that anyone who enters the school after the age of eleven must be strictly tested for character and ethics. We don't take it so strictly anymore. In the past, this would really have been a test. But Headmaster Dumbledore doesn't think much of it. And in the end, he is right. As long as we at least remember the tradition and where it comes from, there is no shame in not taking it so seriously any more.

I, for one, am glad for every student we can gain. And from what Griselda has told me in advance regarding your exam results, we can look forward to welcoming a talented young man to join us."

Professor Griselda Marchbanks had been supervising his theory exams. Although in reality he was not worried at all about not having passed, Percy inquired of Slughorn, "And what did she say about my results?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you of course, but between you and me, you can look forward to one of the best grades awarded for some time," Slughorn said blithely. Again he sipped his wine. It was incomprehensible to Percy how someone could drink alcohol in broad daylight. Lucretia, who had been listening with interest, had an obscure, jet-black drink in front of her, which occasionally glowed slightly red. Percy had seen it before, but did not know what it was called.

During the pause in the conversation, his false mother asked: "I hope it won't cause any problems that Percival is so advanced in his studies. As I said, we never intended to send him to Hogwarts. It would be a shame if the school slowed down his progress instead of accelerating it."

As much as he disliked the tomfoolery surrounding his person, Percy had a well-founded suspicion that his second time at Hogwarts would bore him to tears - no matter if the professors tried to keep him occupied. If the damned Horcrux wasn't very likely to be in the castle, he might have resisted this enrolment a little more. The idea of being forced to sit out his time when he could be doing something useful made him shudder.

"That's a legitimate concern, of course, Mrs Prewett. But we are top notch staff. I'm sure we'll be able to challenge the good Percival here. Only two years ago we got a new Master of Charms at Hogwarts, Filius Flitwick. Perhaps you've heard of him? Great duelist and already over fifty publication in relevant international papers in his chosen field. Our teacher of transfigurations Professor Minerva McGonagall is perhaps still a little young, but already one of the few registered Animagi in magical Britain. I myself can say without false vanity that I am one of the authorities in the brewing of potions of all kinds. The greatest come to me for advice.

So I understand, Mr Prewett, that you are interested in ancient runes and arithmancy. With Professor Kudrun Fynen we have on our faculty the leading expert in the study of Germanic and Norse runes in the whole of Northern Europe. You are lucky to have come now, as this year is her last at Hogwarts before she goes into well-deserved retirement. Professor Octavia Yarmouth, our Arithmancy teacher is also internationally renowned and has been teaching at Hogwarts for over forty years. You see, your son is in good hands with us, Mrs Prewett."

"You left out the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, sir. There has been quite a rapid change in recent years, hasn't there?" retorted Percy with great interest. The often suspected curse on the post had begun in 1965. By all accounts, the last two teachers should have left their posts already, one after the other.

"Well, we've been unlucky the last two years, I admit. But you know what they say: three times is the charm. Professor Josephine Burke will certainly stay with us longer. Very promising woman with good credentials."

Percy didn't know what exactly had happened in 1965, but somehow Voldemort must have managed to place this curse at Hogwarts. How, Percy could only guess. The curse had to be maintained by the ambient magic at Hogwarts. And that suggested an enchanted object as the source of the suspected bad luck. Bad luck curses were quite common. His father had told him that once.

They were apparently relatively easy to create, only they were usually found on jewellery, where the spells were maintained by their victim. Especially as Muggle-baiting, these pieces had become popular. A Muggle's favourite piece was cursed and the nasty wizard could watch from a distance as his victim experienced increasingly absurd accidents.

It matched his own experience at Hogwarts. Three of his teachers had mysteriously "disappeared", which he considered a child-friendly euphemism for "died". Two suffered injuries so severe that they could not return to their work. One became so paranoid that, according to rumours, she left Britain forever. And the last was outed as a werewolf.

If the dark lord had indeed planted a cursed object at Hogwarts, it was certainly at the same time that the Horcrux he suspected was there had been hidden. It was even possible that both were one and the same object. He would find out. If he took no pleasure in returning to the magical castle, he was eager to destroy a piece of the Dark Lord so that his time travel would finally feel useful.

"Now, Mr Prewett, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? For example, what was the most difficult potion you ever brewed? After all, I'm always happy to see new talent in my field," the older man interjected. Here Percy actually had to ponder, as he had long since stopped thinking in terms of difficult or easy, but rather necessary and pointless.

"Hard to say. I once tried my hand at a brew of ripping agony. Out of purely scientific interest, of course. I wanted to see if I could manage it after seeing the complex recipe," he added as Slughorn looked at him a little worriedly. "The potion was quite difficult to make and I don't think I did overly well. A little too bright and slightly greenish, rather than completely monochrome. I suppose it would have worked. But of course you can't really try such things."

Of course, that was at least a bit of a lie. He had really not wanted to use the potion at the time he made it. But after a particularly irritating day of work as a clerk dealing with injustice and arbitrariness, he had magically and discreetly poured the potion into the large teapot at the ministry refreshment stall. A good quarter of the ministry was out of action for several days with pain that even in its diluted form approached the Crutiatus curse.

In retrospect, he had been ashamed of it, even if the fact that Lucius Malfoy had also been among his victims had warmed his heart. Still, he had also struck people who didn't deserve it quite so much, he was sure. After all, he couldn't be the only person in the Ministry who hated the regime.

"A very, er, special choice for a potion. But certainly suitable as an academic challenge. Five days devoted solely to the potion, very precise measurements and still the rather unique, erratic method of stirring. I am surprised that you have succeeded in making this potion to such an extent. Few of my seventh years could produce such a result. I can see you will enrich my lessons. But how could it be otherwise, after all, your mother and father were also among the better brewers of their year," Slughorn said, quickly losing his unease.

What followed were some general questions about Percy's life with the Prewetts and the supposed reasons for his isolation from the magical world. Lucretia and he answered Slughorn's questions patiently until the latter - after finishing his glass of wine - finally decided to recognise Percy as a trustworthy person who was allowed to visit Hogwarts without restrictions. Slughorn was obviously one of those people who dragged out goodbyes unnecessarily, always starting a new topic when one had already hoped he would come to an end.

Finally he left Lucretia and Percy alone in the Three Broomsticks. Percy exhaled in relief, to which Lucretia chuckled. She said with amusement, "He has not become less exhausting in his old age. And the fact that I am now one of the better brewers in his memory must also be a new insight. I think the best verdict I ever heard from him was "solid" or "good, but with room for improvement".

"I wish I didn't have to do all that nonsense again," Percy sighed unhappily. "Going to Hogwarts is going to be unnecessarily exhausting. I could make much better use of my time elsewhere."

"And already you sound like a proper teenager," Lucretia replied teasingly.

Percy just looked at her reprovingly and explained: "For the moment, at least I have some freedom of movement. As soon as I step inside these walls, hundreds of eyes will be watching me. It won't make my mission any easier."

They had, of course, been talking about his timeline in little bites over the past few weeks. They were his allies, after all, whether he had wanted them to be or not. They had both known Tom Riddle as a charismatic Muggle-born who showed extreme potential in all disciplines and had been idolised by the teachers. But they had never really kept an eye on him; after all, he was two years younger than his fake parents.

"You tend to be a bit dramatic sometimes, don't you?" she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Sure, you're the heir to two prominent houses with an interesting backstory. But after a few weeks, you'll be just as invisible as you want to be.

And don't forget that we only allow you this freedom of movement, as you call it, because we know you can defend yourself if the worst happens. Especially because everyone will underestimate you badly. But you are still important to us and we will protect you as best we can. Whether you like it or not. I'm glad that as long as you're at Hogwarts, I have less to worry about."

"You also let me get a wand on my own."

"Don't be so naïve," Lucretia said, looking at him as if he had said something very stupid. "We hired five trusted people to keep a close eye on your trip to Knockturn Alley. We have a very good connection with magical security providers."

Percy was already not even wondering about such things anymore. But he had hoped that they would at least have given him some autonomy. A mistake, it seemed. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "And on my visits to the Ministry, how many people did you have assigned to spy on me?"

"Two. After all, we trust in your abilities. But it is so easy to be cursed in the back. Caution is an absolute necessity. I wouldn't be surprised if Walburga had already hired contract killers to get you out of the way. She's a ruthless bitch. She will not prevail, Percival. If you have to put up with a little bit of unpleasantness to survive, then there is nothing we can do about it."

"And yet that protection is not in place at Hogwarts," Percy stated coolly. While it was pointless to question their almost mad obsession with protecting him, there was no harm in pointing out their inconsistencies.

"Only one student has died at Hogwarts in centuries, and even that, to my knowledge, was an honest accident, at the hands of that giant oaf now stomping after Ogg. The magic of Hogwarts ensures that even the most dangerous situations are quickly defused. Tempers are cooled, doubts strengthened and supervisors subconsciously guided to dicey situations.

We have already rigorously vetted all teachers who are the only ones we would consider to be capable of such an act. None of them should be a threat. They have neither motives nor, to our knowledge, can they be blackmailed with anything. There remains a residual risk with the latter, but there always is."

Perhaps he should be glad that Lucretia believed so strongly in the vivacity of magic and that Ignatius let his wife do as she pleased in these matters. He himself could not imagine how such a warning system would work. Constructing one would be a near impossible challenge even with modern methods.

But in medieval Hogwarts such a thing had been impossible to realise, in Percy's opinion. Even in his time, even if no one had died, harm to students was a daily occurrence - as his brothers, for example, had proven time and again. If Lucretia's delusion was true, Hogwarts would have to exist as some kind of sentient entity, and Percy found the thought ridiculous.

But he let Lucretia have her victory here. There were subjects on which it was not worth arguing with either of them. She had become so caught up in her lunacy that dissent simply faded away. Ignatius was not so bad in this respect, but even he seemed to deliberately choose not to listen when he accused them of being overprotective. Although Percy did not feel safe at Hogwarts by any means, and he did not share Lucretia's faith, nor Ignatius' confidence in her, he probably had really to be glad of her stubbornness. So at least he escaped those two overzealous pairs of eyes for the longer part of the year.

His relationship with the two thus remained strained. He had also not yet told them everything about his return. The Horcruxes were among the subjects still kept secret. He would talk to them about them eventually, but not yet. He would concentrate on the first one, which would also be proof to himself that they really existed.

For as convinced as he was of their existence, in the end it was so far only a well-founded theory that he had put forward on the basis of much circumstantial evidence. His confidence in Dumbledore's state of mind had still not been fully restored. It was still possible that the old man, in senile confusion, had sent Potter out to accomplish a task that could not be done, because there were no Horcruxes.

But Percy hoped that Dumbledore had really discovered something here. For then he would at least have a clear path before him as to how the dark lord could be vanquished. Or at least the foundation for this could be laid. After all, Voldemort still had to be defeated in the field and in the heads. And while he was certainly a capable fighter, he saw his task more in the battle for the intellectual interpretation of their world. As Percival Prewett, he might have that option where a Percival Weasley, or a nameless vigilante would have been useless.