Now alone at the pub, Percy was once again alone with his thoughts. The long night was beginning to take a toll on his body, however he quickly realized there was no time, or place, for rest. He felt oddly raw, in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable way. He had hoped that after he was given purpose following his conversation with Dumbledore, he would feel better. However, he now realized, alone in a booth with an empty mug, that the fresh wounds of last night would take time to heal.
Percy didn't allow himself to wallow; last night had seen enough of that. Instead, he pulled a piece of parchment out of his cloak and began to draft a list of priorities. He would not be able to miss more work; it was so thoroughly out of character for him to call out of work ill that even today's absence was likely to draw unwanted attention. He needed to utilize his time efficiently. He wrote, in his fastidious script:
Exchange galleons for pounds at Gringotts.
Lease a flat, preferably furnished.
Ward flat.
Arrange for belongings to be sent from the Burrow.
Establish mail forwarding.
Happy with his priorities for the day, Percy walked up to the bar and greeted Madam Rosmarta. Before he settled his tab, he purchased a small dose of "pepper-up potion" and then apperated from Hogsmeade, into Diagon Alley.
As he walked up the ornate steps, leading to the front of Gringotts Bank, Percy remembered his eldest brother Bill. Bill currently worked as a cursebreaker for Gringotts; he was sure by now news of the fight last night had traveled through the family grapevine. While he knew that he would need to maintain his estrangement from his family for a long time, now that he had pledged himself into Dumbledore's service, he wasn't ready to face the actuality of what that meant.
Was it even possible, after the revelations that he had faced, that he could even be capable of acting presumptuous or haughty towards his idolized older brother? Regardless of if he felt ready or not, it seemed that the time had come. As he neared the top of the stairs and began to make his way through goblin security, he could make out the distinct flame of his older brother's ponytail. Quickly, he weighed his options. He could attempt to hide from Bill, however if he was discovered his attempt at deception would make the interaction even more awkward. Instead, he squared his shoulders and began sauntering towards the nearest counter.
He spoke quickly with the goblin and quickly exchanged some of his galleons for pounds. One of the benefits of living at home the past year, while working in a fairly prestigious department, was that he had limited use of his salary. For the past year, he had been slowly saving a sizable sum. Now, he withdrew a significant amount in hopes of acquiring a flat in Muggle London. He had briefly considered renting a flat in Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade. However, he knew that for a significant amount of time, he would be living under considerable scrutiny. At the ministry, his allegiance to the ministry would always be questioned, no matter how well he played his part. Out in the wizarding world, he would always run the risk of running into his family. This painful performance, in order to cement his role as a spy, would hurt. He had decided, after considering the interest he always had in the muggle world, that he would live in the muggle world. This would provide him with a safe space, where he could live without the constant gaze of others.
As he began to step away from the counter, his pockets newly oddly light with the exotic paper muggle money, he rejoiced that he had miraculously avoided his older brother. It seemed as soon as the thought crossed his mind that he felt a firm tap of his shoulder. He knew at once what was to come, took a deep, internal breath, and turned around.
In front of him was Bill. His copper hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and he still wore a fang from one ear. Percy had always loved Bill, in a special way. As a child, he had idolized Bill - he wanted to be smart like Bill, a prefect like Bill, headboy like Bill. Even now, as an adult, he still looked up to Bill. He expected Bill to look angry; he had always been quick to anger. Instead, Bill's face was calm, his brow was furrowed in worry.
"Percy, what happened? The twins wrote me a letter, something about you and Dad having it out - and you left in the middle of the night? Are you okay?" Bill started, his voice gentle. At that moment, Percy felt like a child once again and Bill was coming to the rescue after he fell off his broom. He wanted to lean into Bill, to tell Bill everything. However, he knew he didn't deserve that. More importantly, his life wasn't only his. He had made a promise to Dumbledore that was bigger than himself.
"I am sure you'll hear all about it when you go home. But to answer your question, yes, father and I did argue last night. It has become abundantly clear that we are two very different people, completely incompatible to live with one another any longer." Percy said stiffly. He wanted to keep his answers brief, that way he had fewer opportunities to break.
"Listen, Perce, I know that things are always easy for you. But you don't have to do this. I don't know what you said. Honestly, it would take you declaring yourself a death eater for me to ever hate you and I am sure Dad feels the same way. Go home, please." Bill looked at him, so sincerely, so earnestly, it almost hurt.
"I apologize, but I really must go. I have an appointment that I cannot miss." Percy disregarded what Bill said, turned around abruptly and walked away. Not trusting himself to look back, Percy walked quickly to the door, bustled down the stairs, and apparated away. The moment he opened his eyes, evaluating the dingy muggle alley way that he had transported himself to, he felt a feeling reminiscent of when he walked out the night before.
Every relationship, whether familial, romantic, or platonic has a pivotal moment where everything changes. Last night, the moment the front door to the Burrow slammed behind Percy, forever changed Percy's relationship with his father. Following his speech to Dumbledore, where he outlined his desire, his desperation, to serve as a spy, Dumbledore and Percy's relationship had changed. Now, after leaving Bill, his brother who he had loved, respected, and idolized, he knew that things would never be the same between him and Bill. This understanding left him feeling depressed. Maybe he hadn't thought this plan out all the way through, maybe things would never be better. What if he was always unloved, except now instead of being isolated for being perfect-prefect Percy he was now hated for being mean, unloving, cold. Would his actions under Dumbledore be enough to forgive the estrangement that he was about to create? He hoped it would, because at this point he had no other choice.
In the alley way, he now pushed all thoughts of self-loathing and doubt aside. He did not have time to sit and pity himself. He quickly transformed his clothing into more muggle-suited attire, and began to walk the streets of London, keeping a close eye open for any signs indicating housing availability. He ultimately found a flat in Brixton. After a quick conversation with the landlord, Percy paid a lump sum for the next 6 months of rent. Before he could quite realize what was happening, he was standing in a semi-furnished flat, a bit drab, but all his own. While he wished that he had come into this moment under more pleasant circumstances, he did allow himself a moment of juvenile joy at the newfound independence of living on his own. This was quickly short-lived. Soon, he found himself asleep, in a dead stupor, on the couch in his half-empty living room, his list of priorities forgotten, as exhaustion took over.
Percy woke up with a start several hours later. It was now late-afternoon, a soft drizzle of rain pitter-pattered on his front window. He woke up confused, not quite remembering how he came to sleep in such an foreign setting, on a couch that he couldn't quite place. Quickly, the events of the night came back to him.
Embarrassed by his impromptu cat nap, Percy quickly rose and began to ward the flat. The time passed slowly, as he concentrated on spells and incantations. Bill was always better with wards, thanks largely to his career as a curse-breaker. In a perfect world, one where Percy hadn't ruined everything, it would be Bill, not Percy, carefully warding his new flat. Percy allowed himself to daydream - his mother would be bustling anxiously through his flat all day, fretting over sheets and curtains, organizing his kitchen. Before she left, his mother would probably cook him a meal, "to break in his kitchen" she would justify. His father would meander, in the absent-minded but somehow curious way of his. He would probably insist on putting together Percy's furniture by hand, to play muggle, but would eventually get frustrated and charm the bookshelf together. Ginny and Ron would be affectionately teasing him - they would probably try to put his books away, but Percy's compulsion for order would take over and they would gripe about him as he alphabetized his shelves. The twins would make everything harder, which would be good because everyone would need a laugh to ease the tension of moving. Charlie would be away in Romania.
Percy snapped his attention back to focus - it wouldn't be healthy to indulge that sort of thinking. He had a mission now, and he couldn't let selfish desires get ahead of him. When his apartment was properly warded, he took the time to properly evaluate his new home. It wasn't quite as cheery as the Burrow - in fact it wasn't very cheery at all. For his entire life, Percy had disliked the chaos and clutter of home. Now, standing in his flat, the bare white walls, gray sofa, and gray curtains felt almost clinical. Off the living room was a small, galley style kitchen with a spotless white backsplash. Down the hall was a small washroom with a narrow shower and a little bedroom. The only furniture in the bedroom was a double bed, currently unmade. He realized with a start that he had nothing - he couldn't even make the bed. He at least needed his clothes, so that he could go to the Ministry tomorrow.
At that moment, a small clicking sound reverberated through the empty house. A large, crazed owl was frantically flapping his wings outside of the kitchen window. Percy immediately recognized the owl as Eroll, the Weasley's ancient mail owl. Attached to his leg was a small parcel. Perfect deftly dodged Eroll's pecks and untied the package from Eroll's leg. As soon as the package was in his hands, Eroll took off, ostensibly heading back to the Burrow. "Great!" Percy thought, "Even the owl is mad at me."
Percy's heart broke as he recognized his mother's loopy cursive on the front of the package. He knew at once what was inside the package. "Finite Incantum," he said, and watched as the package grew to be the size of a Hogwarts trunk.
Upon unwrapping the brown package paper off, he was pleased to find that it was his Hogwarts trunk. His mother had carefully packed all of his things into the trunk. At the very top of the trunk, resting on a navy wool sweater, his Christmas gift from last year, was a note. It read:
Percy,
You and your father both said some things I am sure you both regret. I am sure your father wants to apologize, and talk to you as his son. War can make us all act out of character, but now more than ever it is important that we stick together. I want you to come home, it makes me sick to think of you all alone - but I understand if you're not ready for that yet. There is always a place for you at home. Please, let me know you're safe.
Love Always,
Mum
He desperately wanted to believe the letter. He wanted to shrink his trunk back down and go home and forget about the past 24 hours. However, he couldn't believe in his heart that his Mother meant what she wrote. How could there always be room for him at home? There certainly hadn't been room for him growing up - always the butt of every joke, always the last to be picked in Quidditch, always the last to get served dinner. No, even if his mother loved him, it was in an obligatory, animalistic type way. He was going to show his family once and for all that he deserved to be a Weasley, that he deserved their love.
He didn't respond to the letter. He couldn't bring himself to enact cruelty upon his mother. Instead, he focused his energy on unpacking his trunk. He resized his twin sheets to fit his new double bed, and transfigured a bureau out of a matchbox. He then moved into the living room and transformed a thimble into a sturdy bookshelf, upon which he meticulously placed his books. He placed his toiletries into the small cupboard above the sink, and then looked around his apartment. He had been hoping for a transformation, but he was sorely disappointed. His belongings were still those of a school boy, being only a year out of Hogwarts. It almost made the space look more depressing, to see how little he owned.
At last, he couldn't bear to stand in his flat any longer - besides his stomach ached with hunger. He left his flat and began to walk around the neighborhood, searching for a place to get take-away for dinner. After eating something called "chinese food" while sitting on a hillside at a park near his home, Percy finally forced himself to go back to his apartment. He set his alarm, and went to sleep.
The next morning, Percy went to work at the Ministry and acted as though nothing had happened. He apologized for his absence to the Minister, who seemed surprised to hear that he had been gone. Then, he spent the day at his desk, filing, sorting, and analyzing whatever pile of paper ended up in his inbox. From the outside, he looked like typical, business-as-usual Percy. However, inside he felt out of control and scared. Things seemed to be moving so quickly - only a few days ago he was living at home, working in the Department of International Cooperation, being investigated for misconduct following Mr. Crouch's disappearance. Now, he was in the minister's office, estranged from his family and spying for Dumbledore.
As the day progressed, a heavy weight of anxiety made its way slowly down his throat, before settling like a lump of coal in his stomach. At one point, his shaking hand knocked over a well of red ink, and he watched in horror as the crimson ink slowly moved across his desk. He was able to quickly clean up the mess, but it served as a reminder: he needed to pull himself together. If he was going to do this, and do this well, he needed to be perfect. If things were moving the way that Dumbledore predicted, and he did trust Dumbledore now, then the Ministry was soon to be a very dangerous place. Even now, if one of his coworkers or the Minister suspected anything but absolute allegiance to the Ministry he would be immediately sacked. Slowly the weight in his stomach transformed. While it still sat heavy in his stomach, it now served as a reminder to always remain vigilant.
At seven, Percy finally began to make his way out of the Ministry, feeling exhausted from his twelve hour work day. The candles throughout most of the Minister's office had been blown out, only one desk remained occupied.
"Good Evening Dolores - are you settling in for a long evening?" Percy questioned politely, as he began to pass her desk.
"Oh yes! Sadly, I believe that I may not be leaving the office for a while -special assignment from the minister. I want to make sure that none of my hard work slips through the cracks while I am away. I do wish I could share with you - but it is still regarded as a measure of high security!"
She smiled in a vaguely sweet way, however Percy noticed that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. She didn't look at all sorry that she couldn't share. In fact, she looked rather pleased to be asked to work at such a high level of secrecy. It seemed as though she took pleasure out of lording her status and influence over Percy. Despite this, Percy remained unbristled. He had spent nearly two decades now as the punchline to every joke at the Burrow-it would take more than a little gloating for him to snap at Umbridge.
"Well, I wish you the best of luck, Dolores. When one of us succeeds we all reap the benefits." He smiled at her; he had to choke back a wave of disgust as he heard his own pompous words. They were so hollow, yet they seemed to do the trick on Dolores. She smiled at him again, this time a more genuine look of pleasure on her squat face as she waved Percy off. As Percy walked away, he heard her pick her quill back up and begin writing quickly.
As Percy entered the main atrium of the Ministry he double checked his surroundings. He had spent the day avoiding his father at the Ministry, mostly by remaining at his desk. Now however, he wanted to ensure that no one, whether his father, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, or a Death Eater like Lucius Malfoy saw him leave. He would need to be hyper-vigilant, he realized as he quickly crossed the atrium, passed the glimmering golden statue, and towards the floo network. If he was truly to succeed as a spy, he must never let his guard down.
At the floo, he declared his destination and found himself at the Hog's Head within an instant. The bar was dark and dirty. A tall, old man stood behind the bar, wiping dirty glasses with a dingy dish towel. He eyed Percy momentarily and then resumed his task. There were only a handful of people inside the bar; a handful of worn-looking travelers sat in a corner, their rag-worn backpacks piled below their feet and their faces streaked with dust, a small, frail looking witch sat at the bar, her bird like hand clasped firmly around a large flagon of firewhiskey, and the man behind the bar. As Percy made his way towards the bar, he couldn't help but think that he knew this old man from somewhere and he was trying to place him. Perhaps they had met at one of the vendor meetings, the Department of International Cooperation had held in the months leading up to the Quidditch World Cup? Regardless, Percy made his way to the bar and ordered a butterbeer.
The bartender looked at him derisively and pulled a filthy bottle out from beneath the bar. It was the eyes that Percy knew, he realized. He had only ever seen that distinctive shade of azure blue once before; they were the eyes of Albus Dumbledore. For a moment Percy wondered if this was an elaborate ploy of Dumbledore's to prevent anyone from seeing the two meet. Percy reasoned, however, that Dumbledore would have revealed himself already. No, this individual was separate from Dumbledore. This was not comforting - rather, the idea that anyone in the world could share traits with Dumbledore, and that that person would keep such a decrepit bar, was an unpleasant thought. Percy paid for his butterbeer and quickly found a spot in a dark corner of the bar, sipping his drink uneasily.
He was nearly hidden, in the far corner of the pub, kitty corner to the travelers and across the room from the bird-like old woman, preoccupied with drinking her large mug as quickly as possible. Despite a desire to let his tired mind wander, he remained alert, keeping an eye on the tavern's door. Soon after he had settled, Dumbledore opened the door confidently and strode in. His eyes twinkled merrily and he seemed to be half-laughing as he ordered at the bar. The stern barman gazed at him wearily - however a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, despite his guarded face. Percy knew that face well - it was the same look he carried whenever Fred and George pranked him. He had always been angry and irritated whenever they roped him into their grandiose displays, but deep down in his heart he had loved his brothers. No matter how angry, irritated, or upset he was, a small part of him always enjoyed Fred and George's joy.
This memory brought a smile to his face - in the last few days he had become aware that the aching feeling in the pit of his stomach, that had plagued him for the last year, was actually loneliness. It seemed, even when he was surrounded by his family, he felt alone. Since Saturday's fight, the dull ache in his stomach had transformed into a near constant stab at his heart. With Dumbledore within his sight, Percy let his mind wander and bask in the nostalgia of his camaraderie with his brothers. These pleasant thoughts ended abruptly as Percy realized with startling clarity - the bartender was Dumbledore's brother.
It now seemed glaringly obvious - the two's identical eyes, the crooked beaked nose, and the grisled grey beards. Dumbledore had always existed as a mythical entity in Percy's mind; the stoic headmaster, the triumphant vanquisher of Grindelwald, or the elusive leader of the fight against Voldemort. Ordering at the bar, Dumbledore was a brother - a brother scorned, as a matter of fact. Before Percy had time to completely process this new information about Dumbledore, Dumbledore was heading over to his table.
The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes began to dim as he sat down. He gazed at Percy seriously before saying, "It is not too late, Percy, for you to got back. If you wish, we can forget about this arrangement and I can help you return home."
A wave of frustration pulsed through Percy. He had made up his mind. Afraid of what he may say, Percy instead stared resolutely ahead and briskly nodded his head. Dumbledore seemed to understand and began.
"The ministry is so far doing a good job of providing the magical world with a false sense of security. They have convinced the world that Harry Potter and myself are deluded mad men and that Voldemort is not back. However, I know to be true that Voldemort has indeed returned from the dead. His reappearance is more than enough to convince me that this second reign of terror will be even worse than his first."
Percy's eyes widened at this. He had never considered that things could get worse from the first Wizarding War. He had lost several family members in the first war - to imagine the death toll even higher was incomprehensible. Despite Percy's shock, Dumbledore continued on.
"The role that you will play will most likely evolve with the war Percy. As of now, the Order needs ears inside the Ministry, particularly the minister's office that can keep us up to date on the Ministry's plans. Voldemort's plans at this time are likely to be less than overt, therefore we need you to keep a close eye on the details. In the last war, Death Eaters slowly infiltrated different departments in the ministry. It stands to reason they will attempt this again. For now we will communicate once a week, via owl. If things escalate, we may need to communicate more frequently. Do you have any questions?"
For a moment, Percy felt like he was head boy again, being directed by Dumbledore on how to watch over the school while the teacher's searched the castle for Sirius Black. Now, the stakes seemed even higher. He felt a cold sweat on his neck as the true weight of his assignment began to sink in.
"No sir. I have a few points to make you aware of before we depart. The minister had recently taken in a new advisor, one who seems rather keen and adept at disparaging yourself and Harry Potter. Her name is Dolores Umbridge. She was working late tonight and mentioned that she was working on a special project at the request of the minister."
Dumbledore considered this information, a thoughtful look on his face. After a moment, he said, "I have a suspicion as to what this special project may be. Percy, please be on the lookout for information regarding the Ministry's dissatisfaction with Hogwarts."
Understanding washed over Percy - he immediately understood what Dumbledore was getting at. If the ministry continued to devote it's time to painting Dumbledore as a mad man, it was only a matter of time before Dumbledore's ability to run a school came under scrutiny. If the ministry were able to control Hogwarts in some manner, in a way they would have an upper hand over Dumbledore. Additionally, as a student the ministry would have free access to Harry Potter. Percy's brows furrowed into a worried line that made his horn rimmed glasses slip down his nose.
"I understand sir."
At this, Dumbledore stood up, unceremoniously, and began to leave the pub. As he left, he quietly called out, so quietly that only Percy could hear, "I look forward to your next owl."