The International Confederation of Wizards summer session was in full swing. In Geneva, Switzerland, hundreds of wizards from around the world had converged to discuss, debate, and advocate. Other magical folk were also present and accounted for: werewolves, vampires, goblins, to name a few. Headquarters swelled and yet never seemed to reach capacity. A brilliant consequence of magic.
The ICW Headquarters was situated, like many ministries and magical governments, underneath Muggle buildings. The Palais des Nations stood as a marker for anyone visiting and functioned as the Muggle-side entrance. The wizarding entrances were sets of public restrooms on the far side of Ariana Park, closer to Lake Geneva.
The summer session had begun three days after Hogwarts had let out for the summer. Percy had had only enough time to drop his things off at the Burrow and repack before Dumbledore had arrived and whisked him away via international portkey to Geneva. Ever since Percy had worked alongside the Supreme Mugwump and his ICW staff to keep documents and meetings flowing smoothly and as on time as possible.
It was a thrill to be there. Percy had never been outside the United Kingdom. The furthest from home he had ever been had been Hogwarts. Now every morning he woke up and had a view of Lake Geneva and the French Alps in the distance; had coffee and a traditional Swiss gipfeli for breakfast, usually on his room's outdoor balcony; and went to work. The pace was fast and ever changing and Percy truly felt like he was thriving. This was the sort of thing he wanted to do; he just knew it! He was starting to think that working for the Ministry of Magic might be short-sighted. Why work there when he could work here and see and meet all sorts of wixen and magical beings from around the globe? Already he had made acquaintances from France and Germany; had had engaging conversations with Japanese students during Intern Brunches or the occasional Intern Dinner that the ICW hosted for all the summer student interns.
Interning at the ICW was also illuminating to how many other wizarding societies functioned. He had not realized that the Americans were isolationists to, what he as a Brit considered, the extreme. But when one of the American interns explained about the witch hunts and American religious fervor, he began to understand. It was also amazing to see that, because of that background, American students learned voiceless magic almost exclusively. A difficult branch of magic to master, but essential in a country that still suffered from Scourer-descendants attempts to find, expose, and destroy all things magical.
Another thing he learned was how Britain appeared very behind the times compared to other countries, especially their fellow European countries. A werewolf activist named Aksel Holm from Denmark, representing the Scandinavian Packs, had spoken against several upcoming Wizengamot bills that would further restrict werewolves in Britain from obtaining housing, food, jobs, and other basic essentials. Calls from the activist, and other magical governments, moved to censor Britain for its inhumane treatment of werewolves. Furthermore, Wolfsbane, a potion that would allow the werewolf to keep their human mind during the monthly transformation, was subsidized heavily by many governments, allowing werewolves to access the potion at little to no cost; because of this, werewolf attacks in countries where Wolfsbane had been readily available and affordable for the past ten years were declining. Britain, and a few other countries such as Hungary and Serbia, refused to subsidize the Wolfsbane potion, allowing potioneers to sell it at full price, an astronomical 50 galleons a vial, a difficult price to pay when werewolves could be discriminated against in the job market. This had led, according to Holm and a study out of Copenhagen, to a rise in rogue werewolves within those countries, especially the United Kingdom, and therefore the rise of monstrous criminals such as Fenrir Greyback. Dumbledore had smiled serenely throughout the whole speech and Percy had noted the four other delegates from Britain looking stone-faced even as accusations of injustice and violations were leveled at them.
It had been difficult for Percy to hear. For much of his life he had idolized the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot for keeping magical Britain together during the last war. Family friends such as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, and others, had always made Percy feel as if the Ministry was this place where things got done and law and order reigned. Now he wondered.
In the evening, Dumbledore usually did not need him, for which Percy was glad. At times Dumbledore would have private dinners with other delegates or advocates, and have one of his ICW staff with him, leaving Percy to go off exploring Geneva. Percy sometimes went on his own, other times with other interns. In his explorations he had seen both the wizard and Muggle sides of the Museum of Art and History, the Natural History Museum, and the Ariana Museum. He had explored the Conservatory and Botanical Garden, just the wizarding side this time, and had taken a wizarding tour of Geneva that went to many famous Muggle sites and explained their importance, such as the Reformation Wall and St. Pierre Cathedral.
It was one of these evenings that Percy had decided to take a walk along the edge of the lake in the wizarding district, simply taking in the June warmth and the people around him. He was on his own and thought perhaps of finding a small café to have dinner in and then find a place in the park to sit and write to Oliver, when someone stepped in front of him. Percy nearly collided with the taller man, barely managing stop himself.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean—" Percy trailed off, shoulders stiffening as he met the scrutinizing gaze of Lord Septimus Weasley, one of the current British delegates and his grandfather.
The Weasleys did not have much contact with the Weasley side of the family. Percy did not know the full story about why, but he suspected it had something to do with his mother, as much family drama tended to do. At least, it involved his mother. He doubted his father was completely innocent in whatever estrangement had happened between Arthur and Septimus. But it was why they did not speak or visit with either Septimus, his wife Cedrella, nor his uncle Bilius.
Percy supposed it had been a good thing that Bilius' children had already come and gone from Hogwarts by the time Bill had even started.
The few times Percy had had to interact with the other British delegates, with Dumbledore, he had been as professional as possible, and Lord Weasley had been short and spoken more to Dumbledore and ICW staff. It was partly expected, Percy was just an intern, but it had sent a clear message to anyone who interacted with them.
So why he was approaching Percy now was a mystery.
"Can I help you, Lord Weasley?" Percy questioned.
"It's Percival, correct?" Lord Weasley responded.
"I prefer Percy, but yes, it is."
"I cannot abide nicknames. Dine with us this evening, Percival?"
Percy raised an eyebrow.
"Us?"
Lord Weasley turned slightly, and Percy followed his gaze. A little way off, waiting on a bench, was an older woman. She was dressed impeccably in what Percy supposed was meant to be casual, but in the style of witches who came from old, wealthy, pureblood families. Her silver hair was pulled into a soft bun and a hat perched just so on her head. He had to say, his grandmother had better taste in clothes than some of the older ladies he had seen walking around Diagon Alley. Lady Longbottom came to mind with her vulture hats.
"Well?" Lord Weasley demanded. "Will you dine with us or not?"
Fifteen minutes later, Percy found himself sitting on the deck of a restaurant overlooking the lake, accepting a pink fizzy drink in a glass with cherries on top while his grandmother spoke German to the waiter to order the first course. He was not sure what drink she had ordered for him. He took a sip. It was sweet, but not overly, with a hint of strawberries and cherries. It was very good! If it was one thing Percy would miss about Geneva, it would be the cuisine! Britain had a thing or two to learn about food!
"I expect you are wondering why we've invited you to dinner," Lady Weasley said once the waiter had walked off.
"Just a bit," Percy answered. "I know who you are, of course. Yet, before this moment, you've never made any attempt to . . . meet me or my siblings."
"Arthur and Septimus haven't reconciled," Lady Weasley replied, looking at Lord Weasley with a look that told Percy that was an ongoing topic of discussion. Lord Weasley pretended to ignore his wife's look in favor of looking his drink over.
"Weasleys are incredibly stubborn people," Lady Weasley continued, looking back at Percy. "As I am sure you can attest to."
It was true, Percy thought. And it had mixed in seven children with Prewett stubbornness. It's amazing the Burrow still stood.
"When Septimus told me that one of Dumbledore's interns was a Weasley, I just knew we had to meet you," Lady Weasley told Percy. "But Dumbledore likes to keep you close."
Percy hoped he was smiling and not grimacing.
"He's my godfather," he explained, "he's just looking after me."
"Godfather?" Lord Weasley leaned forward at that. "Dumbledore's your godfather?" Percy nodded. "Are you and he close?"
"Fairly." That seemed like a good answer. "Close enough that he invited me to be his team's intern this summer. Though I will be leaving a little early. My family is taking a trip to visit Bill in Egypt."
He had been pleased when the owl arrived from his dad, explaining about the Ministry raffle (700 Galleons!) and how Arthur and Molly wanted the whole family to visit Bill. Apparently, Charlie was even coming from Romania for a few days.
"Which one is Bill?" Lady Weasley asked. "There's . . . six of you?"
"Seven," Percy corrected. "Six boys and Ginny. She's the youngest. Bill's the eldest."
"What are your siblings' names?" Lord Weasley asked. "And please, stick with their full names." Lady Weasley patted his arm fondly.
"There's William, Charles, myself, Frederick and George, Ronald, Ginevra." Deciding that his grandfather deserved to be messed with, just a little, as he was as pompous as Lord Malfoy, Percy added,
"We go by Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, Ron, and Ginny."
Lord Weasley sighed. Lady Weasley grinned into her teacup.
"And what is Bill doing in Egypt?" Lady Weasley asked.
"He's a cursebreaker for Gringotts," Percy answered. "He's been working on a tomb project for the last couple of years. He's one of their most promising cursebreakers! There was an article about him in Breaking Curses last year."
He had clipped the article and set it in the box where he kept his keepsakes.
"And Charles?" Lord Weasley questioned.
"He's a dragon tamer out in Romania."
"Dragon tamer!" Lady Weasley laughed. "Goodness! The two eldest off on dangerous adventures and you're here at the ICW."
"I maintain that politics is just as dangerous as dragon taming," Lord Weasley said to his wife.
"It's fascinating!" Percy cried. "I had no idea how different Britain is compared to so many other magical societies. I mean, I knew that not all societies were the same, I have read some books, but there really isn't anything in Britain that works to educate on other magical societies. My friend, Penelope, was telling me once about a place in London the Muggles call Chinatown and it's where people can just go to experience Chinese culture and it has shops and food and schools . . ." he trailed off, realizing he was rambling. His mum and dad would have been smiling indulgently at this point, and the twins might've told him to be quiet and eat his food. Or just something else entirely.
"Magical Britain does tend to think an awful lot of itself," Lady Weasley agreed. "A byproduct of having produced some of the greatest wizards and witches over the last two thousand years. The Four Founders, Merlin and Morgana, to name a few oldies but goodies."
The waiter brought them their first course. It was called bruschetta and consisted of grilled bread with garlic topped with olive oil and salt. Percy's grandmother had chosen to have it further topped with tomato, basil, and parmesan cheese.
"Magical Britain benefited for many centuries as being a magical powerhouse," Lord Weasley told Percy. "It rose to power alongside its Muggle counterpart, reaching its heyday in the Victorian era. A great many of us old folks remember some of that."
Percy decided it was best not to ask if that was why so many old people dressed like they had just stepped out of the Victorian era. Again, Lady Longbottom came to mind. He knew that wixen had greater lifespans than Muggles, Dumbledore was definitely at least over 100 though he did not know how old he actually was, and his grandparents had to be at least a decade or so younger than the headmaster.
"We aren't that old," Lady Weasley admonished her husband with a laugh. She turned mischievous eyes back to Percy.
"Now, before your grandfather can regale us with more wizarding history, a weak spot of his I'm afraid, tell us more about yourself and your siblings. How are you doing in school? What houses are you in? You're all in school, correct? Or has Ginny not started yet?"
"Every one of my brothers, including myself, have been or were sorted into Gryffindor," Percy answered. "Ginny's going into her second year and wasn't."
"Let me guess," Lord Weasley cut in, "she was sorted into Ravenclaw like Muriel."
"No," Percy answered. "She was actually sorted into Slytherin."
A small gasp came from Lady Weasley. She looked absolutely delighted at the news, clapping her hands, and sending a smug look towards Lord Weasley who sighed and asked a passing waiter for another drink.
"Slytherin? How wonderful!" Lady Weasley cried. "That was my old house, you know."
"It was?"
"Oh, yes. Before marrying your grandfather, I was a Black."
"Got blown off the family tree for marrying me, she did," Lord Weasley told Percy. "Blacks and Weasleys have never gotten along. But she was beautiful and apparently, I made quite an impression." He kissed her hand.
"It's good to know some of Cedrella has shown up in the family," Lord Weasley continued. "A little terror to keep your parents on their toes."
Percy went out with his grandparents a few more times during his remaining time in Geneva. It was usually both Lord and Lady Weasley, but a few times it was just him and his grandmother when ICW obligations kept Septimus busy.
On his last night in Geneva, Percy found himself on a dinner cruise along the lake with his grandmother. She was, as always, dressed impeccably. While there was still a certain vintage style to the clothes she wore, Percy never felt that the clothes dated her, or his grandfather for that matter. It always made him a little self-conscious about his own robes. His mum had managed to find him some very nice second-hand robes that had not been out of place in the ICW, especially as they were not as well-worn as second-hand school robes were, but neither were they on par with what his grandparents wore. He imagined what it would have been like if his dad and grandfather were not at odds with one another. Would Arthur still be leading the low-paying Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, or would he be assisting his grandfather in the ministry or at the ICW? Would their family's money troubles even exist?
"A knut for your thoughts?" Cedrella questioned, sipping at her champagne. Percy startled.
"Just . . . thinking about Egypt," he hurried to answer. "Bill said he's signed us up to tour inside some tombs. Apparently, now that he and the team he's on have cleansed the tombs, they're open for tours to the public."
"It sounds like you will have a wonderful time in Egypt," Cedrella assured him. "Be sure to wear your Sun Protection Lotion. You wouldn't want to end up as red as your hair."
"That would be awful," Percy agreed with a laugh. His grandmother reached down to the chunky handbag she had chosen to carry tonight and withdrew a small bag. She passed it to Percy, and he noted several boxes brightly wrapped and labeled inside it.
"Just some gifts from me to you and your siblings," she said. "Arthur could never say no to me."
"You didn't have to!"
"I've missed out on years of Yuletides and birthdays. I think I'm allowed in indulge when I get the chance."
Percy nodded, setting the bag aside as the soup course came.
"I can see you're dying to ask," Cedrella commented a moment later, "so I'll ask for you. You want to know what happened between Arthur and Septimus."
"Dad's never said," Percy told her. "Mum use to get touchy when we'd bring it up. I mean . . . we see Aunt Muriel regularly . . . and questions eventually came up . . . we stopped asking."
"Weasleys, I have found, are much different from the family I grew up in," Cedrella mused, running a finger around the rim of her champagne flute. Percy noted her nail color was a deep burgundy tonight. "There was a lot of noise growing up in the Black households. Arguments, tantrums, and lectures . . . lecture, lecture, lecture! There was very little privacy and peace in Black households, something I have found Weasleys love."
Percy was reminded of a similar thing his dad had said just after Charlie had gone off to Hogwarts.
"Septimus has never understood Arthur's fascination with all things Muggle," Cedrella continued, "frankly, neither can I. Weasleys might be considered 'blood traitors' by the most notorious and bigoted of the pureblood families, and we have no issue with Muggleborns or halfbloods, but Septimus and I are byproducts of the age in which we grew up and did not expose our children to Muggle things." She ate some of her soup.
"Then there was Arthur's marriage to your mother. The Prewetts are a fine family, don't get me wrong, we grew up with Muriel at Hogwarts. But the Prewetts have made political and familial alliances with other families that, historically, the Weasleys have shied away from. Septimus was worried about aligning ourselves with the Prewetts and, therefore, possibly having to align ourselves with some of those families."
"Lord Weasley did not have an issue aligning himself with the Blacks," Percy pointed out. Cedrella laughed.
"I like you, Percy," she said. "There was much concern about me, but it became a moot point when I was blasted off the family tree. I was officially disowned – they wanted me to marry my cousin Altair Black – and I refused. Altair ended up dying young anyway, dragonpox."
A waiter came and scooped away their soups. He was quickly followed by a waitress with their appetizers of candied carrots with honey, cumin, and paprika.
"As I was saying," Cedrella continued, "Arthur and Septimus argued. Loudly. Vocally. For two men who very rarely ever raise their voices, it was a sight to see. I thought they would come to blows or that they might even draw their wands. Septimus said that the only way he would approve of the marriage would be if the Prewetts cut ties with one particular family. The Lord Prewett at that time, Molly's uncle, refused and well . . . that didn't stop Arthur. Again, I cannot blame him. Molly was a lovely girl, if perhaps a bit hardheaded, and I'm sure has flourished to become a lovely woman. It is certainly to her credit for having seven children and raising you well."
Percy blushed. Yes, Molly was a good mum, he thought, even if she did favor the twins just a little too much. And could be a little overbearing at times.
"So, Septimus and Arthur split ways and the rest is history." Cedrella had a waiter bring her a new drink. "I've been hoping for years that with Muriel heading up the family now Septimus might reconcile with Arthur, but it seems I must do the hard work." She smiled cheekily at Percy who grinned back. "The war was cruel to the Prewett family, as I'm sure you're aware. Muriel was always smarter than her brothers, more politically savvy."
"She's never talked politics with any of us," Percy said.
"Not even you? It seems you're interested in it."
"I am. But . . . she and Mum always seem to end up arguing when we get together."
His grandmother made no comment as the appetizers were removed to be replaced by the main course. Cedrella had ordered a roasted duck with ginger glaze while Percy had opted to try lamb breast stuffed with lemon, ricotta, and oregano.
After dinner, and after the lake boat returned to dock, Percy walked arm in arm with his grandmother through the wizarding shopping district, taking in the bright lights of the night, the little cafes still open with their patrons out and enjoying a drink or food. The atmosphere was cheery. There was so much to do! Britain did not have many places like this, or if it did, they were not places someone of his family's standing frequented. It was no wonder so many pureblood, and even halfblood, families went to the Continent over the summer holidays. He could remember Oliver regaling him about Paris and Oslo when they were younger. Of course, his trips also seemed to coincide with national Quidditch games or World Cups.
Finally, they returned to the hotel. It was one of several that catered nearly exclusively to ICW representatives and staff during sessions. It was nice, because the ICW covered everything Percy did at the hotel whether he used the spa, the dining room, or room service.
Lord Weasley was waiting for them in the lobby.
"I was thinking I was going to have to send out a search team," he said, greeting his wife with a kiss to the cheek. He turned to Percy. "What time does your portkey leave tomorrow?"
"Nine," Percy answered. "Cairo's one hour ahead."
"Then Cedrella and I will meet you for breakfast." Lord Weasley told him. "And we'll walk you to the portkey office." It was a few blocks away.
"You don't have to do that, sir," Percy hurried to say. He had a feeling that his grandfather was not as impressed with him as his grandmother was.
"Nonsense!" Cedrella cried. "We see you off." She linked arms with Lord Weasley and the two strolled towards the bar, probably for a nightcap before retiring for the evening. Percy made his way up the grand staircase to his own rooms.
"Ah, Mr. Weasley!"
Percy froze, room key half turned in the lock. Dumbledore approached from down the hallway from his own rooms.
"You are a hard young man to pin down," Dumbledore said as he approached. "Of course, I have been quite busy in the evenings. A Supreme Mugwump's job is never done. But I wondered, as you are leaving in the morning, if you were open to breakfast tomorrow?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Percy replied. "I'm going to have breakfast with my grandparents."
He was not sure what compelled him to refer to Lord and Lady Weasley like that. He had yet to even call them that to their faces! Still, the admission made Dumbledore pause, eyebrows rising.
"Lord and Lady Weasley?" he questioned. "You're on speaking terms?"
"I've had dinner with them several times," Percy said. "I just returned from a dinner cruise with Grandmother."
Something flickered in Dumbledore's eyes. Percy noted the quick frown that tried to pull down Dumbledore's mouth before the old man was smiling.
"I'm so glad you have been able to build a relationship with them," he said, "it's always been such a sad thing to think about the argument between your father and Septimus. Very well, a nightcap then." He gestured back to his own set of rooms. Percy hesitated.
"It was not a suggestion, Percival."
