Hello, everyone! Sorry for the late update, but school has been kicking my butt, what with it being the fourth grading period and all! On the bright side, Spring break is less than two weeks away!
WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, BRIEF TORTURE
Disclaimer: I own nada. I'm sorry.
Percy Weasley lived in a very wizard based society, and he could use quills, but when no one was looking, he preferred to use Muggle writing tools. Much easier to hold and less likely to smear. Currently, he was using a Sharpie to doodle on a sheet of parchment, bored out of his mind.
If this plan was going to work, timing was crucial. Oliver had knocked the guy that would be taking the Muggleborns to Azkaban out on the guy's way to work. That was seven fifty-four AM. Then, he called in sick for the guy; luckily, Oliver was very good at doing impressions.
Umbridge and Thicknesse had just gotten the call at exactly eight o'clock. They would be arguing over what to do for roughly two minutes, and around the one and a half minute mark, Percy would head downstairs to give some paperwork to Thicknesse. He would overhear the argument and say that he was free and would gladly take the... Mudbloods to Azkaban.
Don't pause, Weasley, he thought to himself. Be convincing.
He looked at his watch. 8:01. Time to go.
Gathering the paperwork on the Muggleborns (most of which he had changed the files and would get the people released as quickly as possible), Percy stuffed his marker into his pocket, picked up his quill, and headed that direction.
The halls were so quiet. When Percy was younger and had first started at the Ministry, it had been busting with life and laughter and conversation while still being a serious place. The people were people back then.
Now, most halls were empty. Most offices were empty, and the ones that weren't had their workers holed up in them, too afraid to even leave for a cup of coffee. And the ones freely roaming the halls either kept their eyes trained to the floor and walked at an incredibly fast pace or were Death Eaters themselves.
Percy was surprised when he wacked into someone. Almost every hallway was empty; maybe he'd walked into one of the fast walkers.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see-" The person abruptly stopped talking.
Percy, dreading what he'd see, looked up and met his father's eyes.
He suddenly felt the urge to tell him everything from Penny to Oliver to the plan. But he couldn't; he couldn't put his dad in danger like that.
"Hello, D-Father. I'm afraid I have to go," Percy told him, trying to slip away.
Dad? Why had he done that? He couldn't called his dad that in years. Hopefully, he didn't-
But he did. Arthur's eyes went from stone cold to water in a moment. He'd caught the slip up.
"Percy, there's a war going on. Let's forget about what happened, okay? We just want you home. We're worried for you, out on your own."
"You don't need to be," Percy told him while inside, he was thinking, yes, you do. "I can take care of myself."
"I didn't say you couldn't, Percy. It's just that-"
"You're worried. I know. But I'm worried, too. Maybe some day you'll understand what that means."
Percy, ignoring the awful knot of guilt and fear and homesickness in his chest, brushed past his father and continued walking. He felt Arthur's confused eyes boring into his back, but he willed himself to stand tall and keep going without a hitch.
The red head sighed when he turned the corner and away from his dad's prying eyes. He nervously shuffled papers, but as soon as he arrived at the Minister's office, he stopped, straightened his things, and knocked.
"Who wishes to enter?" Umbridge's 'sweet' and professional voice sounded from the other side of the door.
"Percy Weasley," Percy responded, trying to sound pompous and confident.
"Oh, Mr. Weasley, do come in."
Percy opened the wooden door and stepped inside the office. "I've finished my paperwork on the Mudbloods. Some of them aren't actually Mudbloods. Several have magical relatives far back in the family tree."
Umbridge nodded. "And the others?"
"The magic stealers? They can go to Azkaban, for all I care." Percy felt guilty even saying this, but he knew it wasn't true. It would never be true.
Then, he saw his opening when he met Thicknesse's frustrated eyes.
"Is there a problem?"
"Yes. Travis called in sick today. That wouldn't be that big an issue, but we have another batch of Mudbloods coming in soon and we need to get the others to Azkaban before the Ministry is packed with them," the Minister sighed.
"I'm available," Percy offered. "I finished my paperwork, and I'd be glad to see another batch of Mudbloods shipped off to where they truly belong."
Thicknesse smiled, sickeningly. "Wouldn't we all? Alright, Weasley, I'll put you on the job today. Take this note, so Jordan Azus, the guard, knows who you are."
"Thank you, Minister. I shall leave immediately," Percy told him before walking out to fetch the Muggleborns.
He couldn't believe that he was actually doing this: lying, going against the Ministry, the very thing he had gone to extraordinary lengths to defend. But he was doing the right thing, and nothing, nor no one, could convince him otherwise.
That's what was the worst, though. Did people like Umbridge and Voldemort truly believe that they were doing the right thing, and wouldn't change their minds? Or did they know what they were doing was wrong, but they were doing it anyway? Percy really didn't want to think about that anymore.
Cold air seeped into his bones; sadness clouded his mood; the sudden urge to cry or scream flooded through him, which could only mean one thing.
Dementors.
Percy tried to chase the feeling away with memories of his family and Oliver and his school days. It almost worked.
The redhead stepped into the Atrium and tried not to flinch. The sight of the Muggleborn chained up like slaves, sobbing, screaming, and sometimes laughing hysterically, made him want to get sick.
"Weasley," Marlene Sargence said, stiffly. She was a lot like who he used to be, just much more cruel.
"Sargence. I'm here to take the Mudbloods to Azkaban."
"I thought Travis was doing that."
"He called in sick. Now, hurry. The sooner we get these thieves out of the Ministry and where they truly belong, the better."
Marlene smiled, sickeningly. "Agreed. That line over there."
She gestured to a line of Muggleborns in chains on her left, and Percy picked out Margaret Sweeden immediately.
She was an average girl, for the most part. If Percy didn't have that dream, he wouldn't be able to pick her out of a crowd. She was short with long black hair, knotted with dirt and grime and blood. He face was also streaked with those substances. Her clothes were torn nearly to shreds, and her eyes were broken, but Percy knew that somewhere deep inside her, she had a glimmer of hope.
He grabbed the front person by the arm, trying to be gentle while making it look like he was being rough.
"Move along then!" He barked, shoving the first Muggleborn forward, but not hard enough to knock them off their feet. They barely stumbled.
Some of the Muggleborns looked afraid, but others stared at him, recognizing that something was off with this one. Many others wouldn't have cared if that Muggleborn cracked his head open on the floor, but Percy had barely pushed them.
Percy escorted them to the Floo Network, pushing them through one by one.
Percy knew that he couldn't send them straight to Oliver. The Minister could simply look up all the Floos today, and he'd find out what Percy had done, and Percy Weasley would be finished.
But if he made the escape look like a mistake on the guard's part, well, he was in the clear.
Percy was the last one through, and he found himself standing alongside dozens of terrified Muggleborns in a dusty, dirt room with a chair, a desk, and a lamp. It was cold and the lights were dimmed.
"Weasley?" Jordan Azus, a short, ugly man with frizzy black hair that looked to have been never washed, scowled at him with crooked teeth.
"Mr. Azus, the Mudbloods," he told him.
"Ahh, the dirty bastards," he sneered. "I'll take them. You go along."
Percy pretended to think it over. "I don't think so," he said, simply, taking out his wand. "Stupify!"
He'd obviously forgotten how fast Jordan was; he dodged with the agility of a cat and drew his own wand.
"Expilliarmus!"
Percy's wand flew away from him, but Percy had a back up plan.
Magic came from the wizard themselves, not from a wand. Wand less magic was possible, although incredibly powerful and draining, both physically and mentally. Magic was much easier when something was channeling it. A wand was the best because of the combination of wood and cores unique to the wizard. But other things worked too.
Percy threw his quill at Jordan; it wasn't supposed to really do anything, except distract him. The real part of the plan came next.
Jordan jumped, thinking Percy had thrown something else at him (what, Percy didn't know. Jordan wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the box). When he saw the quill, he laughed.
"What was that supposed to d-"
"Expilliarmus!"
Jordan just barely dodged this time, throwing a stunning spell over his shoulder and missing Percy by inches.
"Crucio!"
Percy dove to the ground, but the spell hit his leg and fire flared through his body.
Percy had never been hit by the Cruciatus Curse before, but oh, boy, did it hurt! Shards of glass drove themselves into every pore of his skin; his bones and muscles were stretching beyond their usual lengths; acid was flooding through his veins. The pain was so intense that Percy couldn't even tell if he was screaming or not.
Luckily though, Percy had the ability to think clearly through pain, or at least at the moment. There was a counter spell... Now, if only he could remember the words.
"Cruciatus delere!" He gasped, aiming his Sharpie at Jordan.
The blue light flickered out, and the pain ended. Jordan was surprised; after all, thinking through the Cruciatus was hard enough, but using magic? No way.
Percy saw his chance. "Stupify!"
Jordan dropped like a stone.
He stumbled to his feet, retrieving his wand and quickly erasing Jordan's memory while replacing it with a memory of the Muggleborns overpowering him after Percy left. Percy was in the clear.
Percy took a hand full of Muggle coins out of his pocket and started passing them out.
"These Portkeyes... will take... you... to s-safety." Apparently, the Cruciatus Curse had taken its toll on him because Percy's speech patterns were all over the place.
Margaret and a man only a few years older than Percy came over to help him. His legs were shaking, and he felt ready to collapse. They slipped their arms around his shoulders, and they used a Port Key to transport them to safety.
The Muggleborns and Percy appeared in Safe House 1, where Oliver was waiting.
Safe House 1 was a seemingly small building, but still very cozy. It was a simple, wooden cabin with no windows and a single door that was loaded with locking charms. Despite looking small at first glance, the cabin had three floors (counting the basement) and five bedrooms. The house could fit a little over a dozen people, comfortably.
The room they were standing in was painted a brick red and had two couches, three small tables, and a large open space, where the people were currently packed together.
"Alright," Percy mumbled. "Oliver, you mind?"
"Oh, sure. Alright, I'll be sending men downstairs to the basement, which is kind of our make shift Infirmary combined with a bedroom that can fit three people. Then, I'll be sending women upstairs to be treated in the upstairs bedrooms. Finally, anyone under eighteen will be treated on this floor. After that, we'll have a tour and sort out sleeping arrangements."
"Now," Percy spoke up. "Oliver has your wands, but they are not to be used unless under severe circumstances. The Ministry is tracking all wands; I'm hoping that I can eventually get the track off the wands, but there's no telling when that may be. Until that happens, wands are not to be used unless it is life or death."
"Now, before we do anything," Oliver said, "what happened to you?" He gestured to Percy.
"Azus crucioed me, but then, I probably just got him fired, so I think we're even."
"Well, we can't send you back to work like that," Oliver told him. "And we'd better send you back soon, or they're gonna get suspicious."
"Use Heliosa," a Muggleborn woman told them. "It can clear most of the side effexts, except for maybe some shaking and stuttering, but both can be controlled enough as to not look suspicious."
"Were you a Healer?" The redhead asked as he cast the spell.
She smiled. "Still am. Once a Healer, always a Healer."
Percy grinned. "Let's hope that doesn't apply to Ministry workers. Now, I better head back. I'll be back to check on everything around six."
"So you're not working until eleven?" Oliver gasped. "It's a miracle!"
Percy punched him lightly. "Shut up, Oliver."
He Apparated away and popped into his office (yes, he'd figured out a way to Apparate straight into the Ministry. Don't tell anyone). No sooner had he sat down did the door open.
"This is ridiculous!" Thicknesse roared, stepping into the office, alongside Umbridge. It took all of Percy's willpower not to flinch.
"What is the matter, Minister?" He asked.
"Jordan Azus was overpowered by those damn Mudbloods! They knocked him out and left! That weakling let them escape after we went to so much trouble capturing them!"
"What?" Percy growled. "That... this is..."
"You have permission to swear," Umbridge said as she crumpled up the Announcement.
Percy then let loose a string of cuss words that would make a sailor blush.
Thicknesse stared at him. "You have quite the colorful vocabulary."
"That's beside the point," Umbridge muttered. "What we need to do is get these thieves back in custody."
"I'll send out a Warrant of Arrest immediately," Percy told them, making a quick note on a piece of parchment.
"Thank you, Weasley. At least we have some proper management here," Thicknesse told him before he and Umbridge left to vent elsewhere.
Percy locked his office door and cast a Muffling charm in and around his office; people were getting bugged these days, and while he didn't think he was one of them, he wasn't taking any chances.
Then, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number.
"Hello?" A female voice said.
"Hello. This is Percy Weasley."
"Have you found her?"
"Yes. She's safe at the moment. I will come to pick you and the Little One up around five forty-five."
"Oh, thank you. Thank you so much!"
"No need to thank me. I'll see you soon."
Percy hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
The plan was falling into place perfectly.
The Muggleborns were safe; none were injured.
No one suspected Percy (yet).
Terry and Natania would be able to see Margaret tonight.
But deep down, Percy knew the truth: this was the calm before the storm. Something was bound to go wrong eventually.
The question was when.
I TORTURED PERCY! I almost feel bad. Almost...
So what'd you think of the chapter? Also, I am open to ideas and suggestions; I have a plan for the story, but some details are a little wobbly. Any suggestions are beneficial!
Finally, what'd you think of Percy channeling his magic with a Sharpie? Don't under estimate the permanent markers...