Allusions to sexual assault in this chapter.

Everything he had been holding in since the morning came out when he finally returned to the Burrow that night. Percival Ignatius Weasley, known for his cool headedness and his exceptional control of his magic compared to his siblings, lost it.

Multiple gnomes, use to being left alone during the winter months, went flying over the hedge to greater distances they had ever been forced to fly, urged on by angry surges of Percy's own magic.

After all the gnomes had been thrown out the garden, Percy yanked his wand out and began shooting at random patches of ground, far enough away from the Burrow itself that it wouldn't damage the building or the fallow garden of his mother's. It barely touched the itchy, burning sensation under his skin, or the ever-expanding pressure in his chest.

"Percy!"

Arthur's voice cut through the static in his ears. Strong arms wrapped around him from the back, pulling him tight against a warm chest. Percy scrambled to clinging to the arms, dropping his wand as he dug his fingers into his father's arms, the wool of his coat, the heat of his body doing nothing except give the pressure in his chest to escape in one long scream. Then another one. And a third scream.

"Percy! I've got you, son. I've got you."

Percy's legs gave out and he sank to his knees, his father following, still holding onto him tightly. Percy felt his father press his forehead into his red curls and clung tighter.

"Percy," Arthur murmured, "tell me what's wrong."

But that was part of the problem wasn't it? Percy could tell Arthur about how much stress it was running the Department of International Cooperation when his boss was in and out of the ministry and being unhelpful in the ICW investigation. He could tell Arthur all about how some days he was just exhausted. Nearly too exhausted to hang out with his friends or Oliver because of how stressful his job was. But he couldn't tell Arthur how afraid he was that if he showed how tired he was, if he took a little time to himself, then Oliver might think he was cheating again, because he had never told his parents about why he and Oliver had been fighting all those months ago. He could tell Arthur how worried he was today, how upset he was to find out that underaged wixen were used as the lures in the Second Task, when the rules had been changed to seventeen and older with consent; he could tell Arthur how, even though he knew there was a low chance of anyone getting hurt, that knowing someone like Aria was underneath the Black Lake with no knowledge of why was upsetting and worrisome because what if something did go wrong? What if the spells failed? What if a creature in the Black Lake got past the Merpeople tasked with guarding the four lures and hurt Aria or one of the others? He could tell his dad how he was worried about the Bulgarian backlash that might come from this. He couldn't tell his dad about the meeting between him, Crouch, and Dumbledore that morning when this all came to life. Could not tell him how naively he thought the three of them would just discuss the Second Task; could not tell his dad how both Dumbledore and Crouch scolded him for trying to undermine their authority with the four Champions, how it had been two against one and that they had dragged him over one of the side tables, how the little knickknacks had fallen to the floor or how the edge of the side table had pressed painfully against his groin as Dumbledore and Crouch used him at the same time, one in his mouth the other in his ass.

He couldn't tell his dad anything that actually mattered.

Percy screamed again, his cry fading to sobs as he twisted in his father's arms and pressed his face into his chest, clinging to Arthur like he was a child again. His dad would just have to suffer like he was.

In the morning Percy left the Burrow before either of his parents could really interrogate him about last night. After he had cried himself out, he had allowed Arthur to bring him up to his bed and tuck him in like he was eight and not eighteen. He had had to raid the family's potions cupboard for a headache potion and one that soothed his sore throat though he knew at this point all he could do for that was drink copious amounts of lemon tea.

He had come to a decision while he had stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, waiting for sleep to claim him even though he felt exhausted and should have been able to fall asleep immediately. If the ministry continued to allow Crouch to be the Head of the Department of International Cooperation, he would tender his resignation immediately. And if Crouch got him blacklisted then so be it!

He only hoped that, in offering is resignation, he would somehow be able to ensure his father didn't get any backlash from Crouch. He would find another job, another way to live. Oliver would be happy. He thought Percy was wasted in a place like the ministry, half afraid that Percy would be sidelined like Arthur had been over the decades.

Arriving at his desk, Percy grabbed a blank roll of parchment and began writing out his resignation letter. His handwriting was sharp and quick, not like his usual elegant and thoughtful penmanship that had earned him praises throughout his schooling.

It took him four attempts before he had a letter that was not only well written but wasn't covered in inch blotches or torn holes from where the quill pressed through the parchment. He had just finished when several people burst into the department. Percy jerked to his feet, hand going for his wand, only stopping when he recognized Minister Fudge, his grandfather, and Lord Prince.

"Ah, we thought we might find you here," Lord Weasley said, tapping his cane against the floor, looking pleased with himself. Percy glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that it was nearly nine!

"Is Mr. Crouch in?" Lord Prince asked. Percy shivered, the lord's voice reminding him of Professor Snape's when the professor was particularly annoyed and about to hand out one thousand detentions.

"No," Percy replied.

"What have you been doing?" Minister Fudge asked, gesturing to the wads of parchment on Percy's desk and the ink blotches on his hands and desk.

"I . . ." Percy glanced down at his finished letter. "I was writing my resignation letter."

"You're resigning?" Minister Fudge cried. Percy thought he detected some panic in his voice.

"Only if Crouch continues to be the Head of the Department," Percy stated, straightening his shoulders, and willing his voice not to shake. "I cannot work under a man such as he anymore. There is a reason why it was agreed that only adult wizards and witches would be used for the Second Task. I believe both he and Dumbledore were negligent in their duties to ensure the smooth running of this tournament. This is not the first time, as clearly shown by the ICW investigation, but a friend of mine was one of the students used as a lure and I cannot in good conscience sit back about this. I know I am only an assistant and a first-year employee here at the ministry, but if he remains I will not."

Lord Prince snorted, a decidedly undignified sound from an otherwise dignified man.

"He's a Weasley all right," he muttered to Septimus who refused to appear as anything but stern.

"Mr. Weasley," Minister Fudge said, "as of this morning, Bartemius Crouch Senior no longer works for the ministry."

Percy felt wrongfooted. He struggled for a moment to find words.

"Pardon?" he settled on saying.

"We came here to fire him," Fudge said, "and to ask if you would step in, officially now, as the Interim Head of the department."

"Me?" Percy squeaked.

"Oh, don't be so surprised, boy," his grandfather barked. "You've been the unofficial head for the last several months. Just accept the position, temporary as it is, and be done with it."

Percy merely nodded his acceptance. Fudge reached across Percy's desk for the resignation letter and tore it up.

"Now," he said, "I think the first thing you are to do in your new position is to accompany Lords Prince and Weasley to Crouch's residence and inform him that he is no longer employed with the Ministry of Magic. Usually I'd handle such things, but, well, I think it'll be much better if the ICW representatives go."

Indeed, his grandfather and Lord Prince looked far too pleased with this assignment.

"Come, Percy," Lord Weasley said, turning on his heel. "We don't have all day."

Percy grabbed his cloak and hurried after the two lords.

"You know where Crouch lives, yes?" Lord Prince questioned.

"I do," Percy replied, rattling off the Apparition coordinates. All three of them waited in the atrium for a turn at the ministry's Apparition point, which only allowed people to Apparate out of the ministry.

"Our plan for today is to inform Crouch that he no longer works at the ministry," Lord Weasley told Percy once they had arrived along the Muggle road that led them to Crouch's home. "And we are to collect any files of his from his home and inform him that he is to come tomorrow at nine o'clock sharp for an ICW interview."

His grandfather sounded far too pleased.

"And if he does neither of these things?" Percy asked, leading them off the road and down the path towards Crouch's home. The wards tingled as they stepped through them.

"Then we return with aurors," Lord Prince replied.

The house looked desolate. The ivy had no leaves on it, the sky was gray, and there was a little snow on the ground. There seemed an air of melancholy over the place, something Percy had felt more than once in this place, but never so acutely. A wintery wind blew across the front yard and all three wizards pulled their cloaks tighter around them.

Winky the house elf answered the door after Lord Weasley knocked, allowing them into the entrance way.

"If you great wizards will follow Winky, Is show you the parlor," Winky said, gesturing towards the front room. "Master will be with you—,"

"HELP!"

The cry was short, cut off by the slam of a door. Percy whirled towards the staircase, staring up the dreaded steps to the second floor.

"What was that?" Lord Prince demanded.

"Its nothing, Lord Wizards," Winky answered, even though her entire demeanor spoke differently. She went between wringing her hands and tugging her ears, and her big eyes were filling with tears as she began to shake. "Nothing to see, nothing to see!"

"She's probably been ordered not to say anything," Lord Weasley said. "Mr. Weasley, what's upstairs?"

"Uh . . . well there's supposed to be a poltergeist refusing to leave in one of the rooms," Percy answered. "Crouch said he's been having a hard time getting rid of it."

"That's all we need," Prince muttered, stomping up the stairs, wand drawn. "Show me the room."

Percy scrambled after him, pointing out the door to the room. Behind them, he heard Winky protest, but she was silenced by his grandfather with a gentle Stupefy.

"Ever fought a poltergeist before, Mr. Weasley?" Prince asked. Percy shook his head. His grandfather pushed him to the side and motioned for him to draw his wand. The two older wizards stood at the ready as Lord Prince unlocked the door and shoved in, already speaking a spell that Percy had never heard before in his life. Lord Weasley was hot on his colleague's heels. Percy stayed outside, not sure how much help he would be in exorcising a poltergeist while half-hoping Crouch had gotten eaten by the poltergeist, which if true, he didn't want to interrupt the poltergeist.

He heard shouting and several shouts of spells that were definitely not exorcism related. A loud thump sounded, and he inched to the door, peeking around the doorframe to see his grandfather and Lord Prince standing over the prone and unconscious body of Mr. Crouch. Several pieces of furniture were overturned or broken, including a chair and a picture that had fallen from its hook on the wall. A scorch mark now stained the wall.

Lord Weasley turned to the bed. Percy gasped, stepping into the room as he took in the horror on the bed. A woman, as old as Crouch was, lay naked on the bed, shaking terribly with bruises in various shapes over her body from lash marks made by a belt laying nearby on the floor to hand and fingerprints on her hips and arms. An ugly bruise, not as dark as the rest but still visible, was around her neck as he she had been strangled with the belt. Blood and cum still coated her inner thighs and the bed beneath her.

"Merida," Lord Weasley murmured, stepping towards the woman. She jerked back with a whimper and the man paused, raisin his hands in peace. The woman eyed his wand, and he quickly tucked it away.

"Merida," he said again, "do you remember me? Septimus Weasley?"

Whoever this woman was, it seemed both lords recognized her, but she did not recognize them. She jerked back, still trembling.

Percy came further into the room. The woman jerked around to see him; eyes blown wide with fear. He too held up his hands in peace, slowly removing his cloak and inching forward.

"My name is Percy Weasley," he murmured, like she was a particularly frightened dog or cat. "None of us are going to hurt you." He held the cloak out, allowing her time to decide whether or not she wanted it. After a minute, she reached out, fingers curling around the edge of the cloak, pulling it from Percy's grasp. With some pain, she carefully pushed herself up against the headboard, pulling the cloak around her, hiding her body from the three men, only her feet remained visible. To Percy's growing horror, he realized one of her ankles was shackled to the bed and that at each corner of the bed were empty shackles, clearly meant for her other ankle and wrists.

What had Crouch been doing? How long had she been here? Had she been here before Percy even began coming? She must have since Crouch had had the poltergeist story at the ready when Percy had first heard noise coming from the room.

Nausea came over Percy. His stomach rolled. He swallowed several times, willing himself not to throw up.

"Mr. Weasley," Lord Prince murmured, "I think the aurors are needed."

"And if it is possible," Lord Weasley added, "Alastair Moody needs to be contacted."

Percy rushed from the room, taking the stairs two at a time, passing the unconscious body of Winky, to the one of two Floos in the house, the other being the private Floo in Crouch's office.

It was not long until his head was appearing in the Auror grate at the Ministry of Magic. The auror in charge of the grate immediately rose to her feet from her desk.

"Aurors needed immediately at the Crouch residence," Percy stated, giving her the address. "Madam Bones will want to be here."

"Madam Bones is busy—,"

"I am the Interim Head of the Department of International Cooperation and am here with British ICW representatives Lord Weasley and Lord Prince," Percy snapped. "Madam Bones is need immediately. No one else will do! On top of that, retired Auror Alastair Moody will need to be informed."

Thankfully Madam Bones came passing through the auror office and heard that last part. She hurried to the grate.

"What is the problem?" she demanded.

"An incident at Crouch's house," Percy replied. "We need immediate auror presence, including one with some healing training, and Alastair Moody."

Madam Bones dispatched a nearby auror to Hogwarts without question.

"If you'll step aside, Mr. Weasley," she said, "I and several aurors will be through momentarily."

Percy pulled back until he was fully in the Crouch residence. He backed away from the Floo, returning to the hallway where Winky still lay. With a gentle spell, he revived her.

"Winky," he said as she sat up with a little groan. "Winky, your master is to be arrested."

Winky burst into tears.

"Has you found the little master?" she wept. "Big Master hurts him!"

"We found someone," Percy replied. "A woman?"

"Nots a woman!" Winky cried. "Is Little Master Barty! Big Master gives him potions. Makes him look like Mistress!"

"Winky," Percy said urgently, "the aurors will be here any minute. Meet them and bring them up to Little Master's room all right?"

Winky nodded, sniffling. Percy raced back up the stairs to where the two lords were trying to get any kind of reaction from the woman on the bed.

"Winky says that Crouch gives her a potion," Percy told them. "Said she's not a woman at all."

The woman finally reacted to that. She removed one hand from Percy's cloak, pointing across the room to a dresser where a glass sat. The remnants of a dark and gloopy potion lay at the bottom. Lord Prince took a sniff of the potion, wrinkling his nose.

"Polyjuice," he muttered. "Then who—,"

The face of the woman rippled like water before morphing into a completely different person. Percy's eyes widened. He knew about Polyjuice Potion, it was a NEWT level potion after all, and he had had to brew it, but it was not one that the students tested in class. Professor Snape used a strip of special parchment to test it. His, of course, had been perfect.

"Merlin!"

Madam Bones' voice startled everyone. Percy hurried across the room to stand by his grandfather who continued to stare in shock at the young man on the bed as Madam Bones and her aurors entered the room. Winky peered around the door frame, worrying her ears.

The young man on the bed had to be several years older than Bill, Percy thought. At least Professor Snape's age, maybe. His face was still bruised, as was his neck. He burst into tears seeing the aurors, shying away from them as they came closer. Madam Bones raised a hand, halting the aurors from coming too close to the bed before pointing at Crouch.

"Get him out of here," she ordered. "Don't wake him up until he's out of the room." Two of the aurors levitated the man out of the room. The other two aurors waited for their orders.

"Barty," Madam Bones murmured. Percy startled. She knew who this was? "Barty, do you know who I am?"

The young man sniffed, pulling the cloak further around him. He took a minute to look Madam Bones over.

"Amelia," he finally rasped out, throat clearly in need of water and some healing. "Edgar and Edwin's older sister. You . . . you became an auror."

"I did," Madam Bones replied. "Much to the consternation and shock of all the pureblood circles."

"Edwin . . . Edwin always thought you'd make a brilliant auror," Barty said. Madam Bones gave a sad smile. Percy knew it was because her brother Edwin and his wife had been killed by Death Eaters, leaving her and her brother Edgar to raise Susan Bones. Thought if Percy recalled correctly, Madam Bones took most of the responsibility there as Edgar had his own wife and family to look after and acted as regent for the Bones Family as Madam Bones sat on the Wizengamot as Head of the DMLE and would continue to sit as regent until Susan came of age.

"Well," she said. "I'm the Head of the DMLE now. Do you remember what that means?"

Barty nodded hesitantly.

"Very good. Now, here's what we will do. I will have Auror Giles, who has training as a mediwitch, look you over and ensure you are well enough to be transported to St. Mungo's. Then, once you are well enough, I will come and talk to you so that we can give you some justice."

Barty gave another hesitant nod.

Auror Giles stepped forward, wand raised, ignoring how Barty cringed away from the wand, and began running diagnostic spells. There was several moments of silence with only everyone's heavy breathing reaching their ears.

"He's well enough to travel," Auror Giles said. "No immediate attention from me needed, though I'll work with the healers to collect evidence." She conjured a stretcher and Madam Bones carefully levitated Barty onto the stretcher where he slowly laid down and allowed the cloak to be taken from him and replaced by a warm blanket. Percy felt sick seeing the blood and cum left behind on the mattress.

Stomping on the stairs was heard by everyone. Madam Bones rushed to the door.

"Alastair," she said. Percy wondered why his grandfather had requested that Alastair Moody be contacted. As far as he knew, the man had no family only friends.

Barty lifted his head.

"U-Uncle Alastair?" he called weakly.

Oh.

Percy felt a lump form in his throat as Moody limped in, face grave as it always was, eye whirlin like it always did. Barty lay his head back down, one arm coming out to reach for the old auror, hesitating as if he were afraid Moody would bat his hand away. Moody, instead, grasped the offered hand, using his other to brush Barty's hair from his face.

"Uncle Alastair?" the young man seemed in disbelief that the man was there.

"Aye, lad, it's your old uncle," the auror muttered.

"I didn't do it," Barty said. "I swear, Uncle, I didn't! I wouldn't—,"

"Hush now," Moody soothed. "Don't worry 'bout that now. Just . . . let's just get you to hospital." He nodded to the aurors and followed the stretcher out. Madam Bones turned to Percy and the two lords.

"I will need to interview you three today," she said. "If you could remain at the ministry until the end of the day, I will send for you."

"Of course," Lord Weasley murmured, clearly thrown off by the entire order of events. "We are all at your disposal, Madam Bones."

She gestured to the door and Percy allowed his grandfather to push him out of the room and out the front door. The cold air was immediately mind clearing.

"We shall have to inform the minister that he will not be speaking to Crouch today," Lord Prince said after a moment. He too appeared shocked by what they had seen. "ICW will have to wait."