"I don't know who came up with this stuff," said Johnny dourly.
"I think it was an accident," said Percy, poking at his bowl.
"Eat your hummus," growled Mother Swainbrooke.
Johnny stabbed at the stuff in his bowl and then pushed it away. "Oops -- I just remembered, Max and Benny asked me to meet them for dinner tonight. Don't want to disappoint --"
He leapt out of his chair.
"I don't suppose I could --" Percy turned to call after Johnny and an owl flew into his face.
The owl collapsed to the floor, a rumpled purple paper clutched in his talons. Spitting out feathers, Percy plucked up the letter and unfolded it. He snapped to attention.
"Madam Swainbrooke, I am needed by the Minister of Magic," he announced, loud enough so that Johnny could hear. "I must depart by fireplace immediately."
The landlady put her hands on her meaty hips. "Really, Mr. Weasley," she said scornfully, "if ye didn't want any hummus, you could've just said so."
Her words were lost. Johnny had already escaped out the front door, and Percy stepped briskly into the Floo.
Percy emerged from the fireplace in the post office in Hogsmeade. Nodding to the postal worker, who bore a dozen owls on his arms with a weary resignation, he stepped lightly out into the street.
A collection of people stood waiting for him on the sidewalk: Minister Fudge, flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt and the bulldog-faced Auror, Dawlish. Fudge held a heavy scroll and a handful of quills, which he thrust into Percy's arms. He looked fanatically excited.
"Come along -- got a coach waiting --" The street lights glinted from his eyes. "You'll need to take notes -- yes, every word. Every word ..."
The coach, bouncing along by itself, took them to the door of Hogwarts. Percy paused at the bottom of the great stone steps. He'd been back since graduation -- twice, in fact -- for the Triwizard Tournament. But he hadn't returned since Mr. Crouch's disappearance, or since the break from his family. Hogwarts, it seemed, belonged to a different part of his life.
"Come along, lad!" Minister Fudge gestured excitedly from the top of the stairs. Percy suppressed the memories and hurried after him.
Through the Entrance Hall -- past the Great Hall -- up the moving staircases and through the haunted halls. Every step was familiar. When Minister Fudge reached a pair of gargoyles and barked, "Open in the name of the Ministry of Magic!" the staircase swirled up before them in expectation. One by one they rose up to the office of the Headmaster.
When they reached the highly polished door, Minister Fudge reached forward and pounded the knocker heartily. The door sprang open. He strode inside, the Aurors at his side, with Percy trailing obediently behind.
The Headmaster's office was just as Percy remembered it, with portraits of old Headmasters and Fawkes preening in the corner -- and now that he had worked with Perkins for a year, he recognized some of the devices lining the walls. Dumbledore sat behind his desk and inclined his head in greeting. Professor McGonagall was there too, straight-backed beside the Headmaster. He opened his mouth to greet her -- then caught the way that Fudge was watching him. Instead he nodded curtly and retreated, head down, to an empty corner of the room.
The silence was extremely uncomfortable. In his best, most efficient, most dignified manner, Percy unrolled the scroll and began taking down preliminary notes: The time, the date, those presently assembled. The latter included Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, as well as Fudge and the two Aurors. And himself, Percy thought importantly, making note of his full name and title on the parchment.
"Well, Mr. Weasley. I trust that things are going well for you at the Ministry?"
Percy looked up at the thoroughly unexpected sound of Dumbledore's voice. The Headmaster was gazing at him pleasantly, hands folded on the desk. For once, Percy felt himself completely at a loss. Who was he supposed to please now? Fudge or Dumbledore?
"Ah -- very well, sir," he said, hazarding a nervous glance at Fudge, who was watching him keenly, and McGonagall, who had the same sharp look on her own face. "Thank you for the recommendation."
"It was my pleasure," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "It was my hope that the qualities that you showed as Head Boy would carry over to the good of the country."
"Er --" He couldn't show undue fondness for Dumbledore, but neither could he turn a cold shoulder to a compliment. This whole situation was dangerous. He shouldn't have come. "I -- ah -- think it will." He bent his head and absorbed himself in note-taking, hoping no one would realize that there was nothing to take notes on.
To his great relief, before the conversation could continue the door sprang open. Dolores Umbridge strode inside. She had Harry Potter by the arm.
Fudge's face absolutely lit up at the sight of him, and not in a friendly way. Potter wrenched himself free and met the Minister glare for glare.
"Well," said Fudge, not bothering to mask the satisfaction in his voice. "Well, well, well ..."
"He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower," Madam Umbridge told them, sounding quite as delighted as Fudge. That sounded useful, so Percy started taking notes. "The Malfoy boy cornered him."
Fudge nodded his approval. "Did he, did he? I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter ... I expect you know why you are here?"
"Yeh -- no."
Everyone looked at him. Potter's voice had switched halfway through from defiance to innocence. Fudge blinked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No," said Harry.
Fudge exchanged a glance with Umbridge. "You don't know why you are here?"
"No, I don't," said Harry stubbornly.
A heavily sarcastic tinge slid into Fudge's voice. "So you have no idea why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"
"School rules? No."
"Or Ministry decrees?" Fudge added quickly.
"Not that I'm aware of," said Harry. He certainly had some cheek, Percy thought to himself.
"So it's news to you, is it, that an illegal student organization has been discovered within this school?" Fudge was sounding angrier by the second.
"Yes, it is." Harry did not look convincing.
It was news to Percy, though, and his heart suddenly sank. An organization meant that more than one person was involved; and if Harry was there, so was Ron. Maybe the twins. Maybe even Ginny ... He hoped fervently that Ron had read that letter carefully, and that he at least hadn't got caught.
Dolores Umbridge interrupted the fruitless interrogation sweetly. "I think, Minister, we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."
"Yes, yes, do," said Minister Fudge. He slid his gaze over to Dumbledore as Umbridge left. "There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?" he added maliciously.
The Headmaster was placid. "Nothing at all, Cornelius."
Madam Umbridge did not return for several awkward minutes. When she did, she had a curly-haired girl by the shoulder. Percy wondered whether her expression was one of fear or remorse; she had her hands over her face.
"Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened," Madam Umbridge said soothingly. "It's quite all right now, you've done the right thing. The minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been." She turned back to Fudge. "Marietta's mother, Minister, is Madam Edgecomb from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office -- she's been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know."
Percy arched an eyebrow. They were patrolling the Hogwarts fires? He hadn't heard about that.
"Jolly good, jolly good!" said Fudge. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to -- galloping gargoyles!"
Percy remembered the way that Penelope had carried on about a blotch on her nose two years ago. It had nothing on this. A constellation of blemishes blossomed across the girl's face in the form of the word SNEAK. Percy shuddered. Even that poor Midgen girl had never broken out this bad. Fudge was so startled that he jumped backward into the fireplace and caught his robes on fire. Marietta wailed and hid her face under the neck of her robes.
"Never mind that now, dear," said Umbridge, as Fudge was stamping out his singeing hemline, "just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister --" Marietta whimpered and shook her head. "Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him." She bestowed her sticky-sweet smile on Fudge. "Well, Minister, Miss Edgecomb here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately at that point this hex came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more."
"Well now." Fudge gave Marietta a kind smile. "It is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge, you did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?"
Marietta shook her head again. The eyes poking over the edge of her robes were wide.
Fudge turned to Umbridge and then the Aurors. "Haven't we got a counterjinx for this? So she can speak freely?"
"I have not yet managed to find one," Umbridge admitted. "But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take up the story from here. You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade --"
"And what is your evidence for that?" said Professor McGonagall sharply.
"I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time."
Percy nearly dropped his quill. Widdershins --?
"He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired. He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me --"
Heavily bandaged! It must have been just after his face was set on fire. If only he'd been caught the first time!
Professor McGonagall bridled. "Oh, so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets! What an interesting insight into our justice system!"
A portrait on the wall chimed in: "Blatant corruption! The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!"
"Thank you, Fortescue, that will do," Dumbledore said calmly.
Madam Umbridge went on: "The purpose of Potter's meeting with these students was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age --"
Dumbledore interrupted politely. "I think you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores."
Now it was Fudge's turn to rear up indignantly. "Oho! Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on -- Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life, and a couple of invisible dementors?"
That sounded like a joke. Percy forced out a hearty laugh. "Oh, very good, Minister, very good!" Inwardly, he was seething. This was why he'd had to go and capture Willy Widdershins a second time? This was the reason two Muggles had to have their fingers regrown?
"Cornelius, I do not deny -- and nor, I am sure, does Harry -- that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defense Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules in the Hog's Head at all."
Two days after the Hogsmeade meeting would have been a Monday. Percy stopped writing for a moment, completely struck dumb. So that was the rush for Educational Decree Twenty-Four -- to cater to the whims of Madam Umbridge! He felt as if he had been sucker-punched. Had Fudge always been such a shameless panderer?
He recovered himself in enough time to take the next statement from Madam Umbridge. "That's all very fine, Headmaster. But we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are."
"Well, they certainly would be," Dumbledore agreed, "if they had continued after the decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that these meetings continued?"
A very small whisper struck Percy's ears. He glanced to the side in time to see Kingsley Shacklebolt lower his wand. Odd ...
"Evidence?" said Madam Umbridge. She might have said the word "checkmate" with the same tone. "Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecomb is here?"
"Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?" Dumbledore was politely attentive. "I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."
Professor Umbridge nodded and turned to Marietta. "Miss Edgecome, tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?"
Nothing happened.
"Just nod or shake your head, dear," Umbridge urged. "Come on, now, that won't activate the jinx further ..."
For a few seconds Marietta stared straight ahead. Then -- ever so slowly -- she shook her head.
Umbridge glanced at Fudge, confused. "I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?"
Marietta shook her head again.
Umbridge looked confused and exasperated. "What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?"
Professor McGonagall stepped up. "I would have thought her meaning was quite clear," she said sharply. "There have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?"
Marietta nodded.
Now Umbridge looked less perplexed than furious. "But there was a meeting tonight!" she said, almost quaking. "There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organized it, Potter -- why are you shaking your head, girl?"
"Well, usually when a person shakes their head," said Professor McGonagall irritably, "they mean 'no'. So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans --"
Percy did not think it would be prudent to point out that a shake of the head meant "yes" in both Greek and Bulgarian body language. He hunched closer to his notes.
At that moment, though, Dolores Umbridge seemed to snap. She grabbed Marietta by the shoulders and began to shake her violently. Instantly, Dumbledore was on his feet with his wand out. Kingsley, too, started forward, but Umbridge let go suddenly, as if a shock had passed through her hands.
"I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores," said Dumbledore, angrier than Percy had seen him through the whole scene.
"You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge," Kingsley added evenly. "You don't want to get yourself into trouble now."
"No," said Umbridge, looking quite shaken at her own outburst. "I mean, yes -- you're right, Shacklebolt -- I -- I forgot myself."
Fudge broke in impatiently. "Dolores, the meeting tonight -- the one we know definitely happened --"
Umbridge took a breath. "Yes, yes ... well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind ... We needed evidence and the room provided ..." She pulled a parchment from her pocket and handed it to Fudge. "The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with," she said meaningfully.
Percy craned his neck to see if his siblings were on the list but Fudge was too far away.
"Excellent. Excellent, Dolores." He took a closer look at the list and his eyes widened in both surprise and delight. "And ... by thunder ... See what they've named themselves?" He looked up a Dumbledore and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Dumbledore's Army."
Without a word, Dumbledore reached out and took the paper from Fudge. For long moments he looked at the list silently. There was something in his expression that seemed less calm than before. A sense of unfounded dread curled in Percy's stomach.
Finally Dumbledore looked up. He was smiling. "Well, the game is up. Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius -- or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"
The room was stunned.
"Statement?" said Fudge slowly, not taking his eyes from the Headmaster. "What -- I don't --?"
"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius. Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army."
"But -- but --" A sudden understanding burst on his face. He jumped backward, hit the fireplace again, and leapt back out. "-- you?"
"That's right," said Dumbledore. He did not sound perturbed.
"You organized this?"
"I did."
"You recruited these students for -- for your army?"
"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting," said Dumbledore. He didn't sound in the least bit remorseful. "Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course."
Fudge swelled like an offended hen. "Then you have been plotting against me!"
"That's right," Dumbledore said cheerfully.
Horror flashed on Potter's face. He suddenly seemed to realize what was happening. "NO! No -- Professor Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore fixed him with that infamously calm, piercing gaze. "Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office."
"Yes, shut up, Potter!" Fudge snapped. "Well, well, well -- I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead --"
"Instead you get to arrest me." Dumbledore smiled. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"
Minister Fudge couldn't hide his utter delight. He spun toward Percy. "Weasley! Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?"
I always do, thought Percy disdainfully. He said, "Yes, sir, I think so, sir!", making sure to fill his voice with as much enthusiasm as possible. Potter's look of disgust was not lost on him.
"The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry," Minister Fudge went on, glowing with joy, "how he's been working to destabilize me?"
"Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!" Percy said. Oh, he wanted out of there, he wanted out of that room, and most of all he wanted to wring the neck of Willy Widdershins.
"Very well then." Fudge looked like he had been promoted to Minister of the World. "Duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!"
Percy crumpled his notes in his hands and dashed out. He took no care with the door as he left.
Three transcriptions and an owl to the Prophet later, Percy stormed to Perkins' house and banged on the door.
Perkins, in dressing gown and purple slippers, opened the door. He squinted up at Percy through a pair of reading glasses. "It's too late for swordplay. Go away."
Percy strode inside. "We are completely on our own, Perkins," he said crisply. "Dumbledore has left Hogwarts."
Perkins' face showed utter disbelief. "Left --?"
"Has been forced out, I should say, by Minister Fudge," said Percy. His voice was bitter. Perkins followed his stormy wake into the living room. "Now the Order's most powerful member has lost all his standing. You were right about Kingsley Shacklebolt, by the way," he added. "He saved Potter from expulsion, though he couldn't prevent Dumbledore getting arrested."
"Arrested --?"
"Don't worry, he got away." Percy threw himself into the patched armchair. "The Order is powerless and the Minister will be no help."
Perkins drew up a chair. "I think you'd better tell me exactly what happened," he said slowly.
"Read my notes," said Percy, tossing him a scroll. "I did them in triplicate."
Perkins read the notes through four times. Afterward, he leaned back in his chair with his hands on his knees, gazing absently at a corner of the ceiling.
"This is very strange," he said slowly. Percy snorted assent. "Very unexpected. And I'm afraid ... it's very bad."
The lights of The Grinning Goose were dim; the late-night conversation, sparse. A pair of men hunched in the corner of the tiny upstairs restaurant, one nursing a glass of red currant rum and the other sipping a poison-green martini. Toasts and congratulations had given way to satisfied sighs, ruminations and the sad, fond remembrance of an enemy defeated.
"Well done, Minister," said Lucius Malfoy for perhaps the tenth time that night. "You succeeded in what the entire board of governors failed to do three years ago."
"Yes, thank you, thank you." The hand that reached for the glass shook slightly. "Amazing, just astonishing what had been going on my back all this long year."
"Simply unbelievable," said Lucius Malfoy. "Although you know," he added, leaning closer, "I always did suspect that Dumbledore was plotting against you."
"As did I," Fudge muttered, his brow creased. "And now we have all the proof we could ask for. I only wish we knew where he was." He sighed. "Well, there's more than one good thing to come of it."
Mr. Malfoy inclined his head curiously.
"The young Weasley's as loyal as they get. He was quite as happy as I was to see Dumbledore gone. You should have seen him, Lucius. It would've put all your doubts to rest."
Mr. Malfoy gave Minister Fudge a thin-lipped smile around the rim of his martini. "Perhaps."
The next two weeks were a frenzy in the Ministry of Magic. After the Daily Prophet article about Dumbledore's Army and subsequent disappearance, the story was picked up in everything from Transfiguration Today to Witch Weekly. Far from being relieved at the disappearance of his imagined enemy, Fudge started to become more than a little paranoid. He made unannounced visits on departments which housed known Dumbledore supporters, and took every possible chance to remind people of the terrible conspiracy in Hogwarts (and how it was most wisely prevented.)
Percy spent a lot of time writing press releases and replying to letters. Occasionally he thought about sending in a tip to the Daily Prophet about Willy Widdershins, but it would be too easily traceable -- and besides, it wouldn't do to turn public support against one's own boss. Whether or not he was a brainless git.
One evening in late April, Percy trudged home from the office an hour late and thoroughly exhausted. He plodded inside and hung his cloak. As he was closing the door, Mother Swainbrooke came from the kitchen, wiping her meaty hands on a dishcloth.
"Mr. Weasley! It's good you're home." She beamed. "You've a guest."
Percy went into the kitchen to see his brother Charlie seated at the table.
He stopped dead. Charlie, who had a mug of tea in his big scarred hands, put down the drink and stood up awkwardly. "Hullo, Perce."
"What are you ...?"
"Don't tell Dad I came here," said Charlie, "but you need to hear this in person." He hesitated. "You might want to sit down."
Moments later, the calm of early evening was shattered.
"Fred and George did what?!?"
"They turned the whole corridor into a swamp?" Perkins asked, sipping tea from a pink flowered cup.
"The whole floor. Ouch!"
"Be on guard for that one-two attack. And then they flew away?"
"On confiscated broomsticks -- ow, bugger it all -- which they stole back from the Headmistress's quarters."
"I still say you ought to be proud. Bloody hard, conjuring a whole swamp."
"Perkins -- oof -- I am not -- ouch -- proud of that pair of bandits -- OUCH!"
Perkins whistled sharply and the Guardian sword withdrew to its place over the mantelpiece. "That's enough for today, you'll have blood all over my wallpaper if you don't stop now," he told Percy, who dropped his sword to the floor and staggered to the sofa.
His arms and sides were sliced in a dozen places. Percy stripped off his ruined shirt and went to work medicating them while Perkins tossed some kippers into the skillet.
"Don't get me wrong, it was nice to see Charlie again," Percy philosophized, dabbing at his wounds with a wet cloth. "But my other brothers have become vandals, scofflaws and secondary-school dropouts."
"They've always been scofflaws," said Perkins, handing him a tube of murtlap ointment.
"Yes, but now they're scofflaws with an incomplete education and no N.E.W.T.s," Percy reminded him. "I'll live to see them carted off to Azkaban. You mark my words."
"And if those devices of theirs ever make it into the hands of Muggles," Perkins chuckled, scraping the kippers onto a plate and breaking some eggs into the frying pan, "it'll be you doing the carting."
