CHAPTER 52: A TEST OF ALLEGIANCE
Percy Weasley stood at the threshold of Cinnamon Grove, the grand manor looming before him like a silent sentinel guarding secrets untold. His heart pounded against his chest, each beat echoing his inner turmoil. He longed to turn on his heel and flee from the imposing structure, yet an inexplicable force tethered him to the spot. Despite his rational mind urging him to retreat, his Gryffindor courage stirred within him, reminding him of his family's legacy of bravery and determination.
With a trembling hand, Percy reached into the depths of his coat, fingers brushing against the fabric of his pocket until they found the reassuring weight of the letter. Its presence was a tangible reminder of the events that had led him to this moment. A month spent in the confines of Azkaban's lower-security wing had left him feeling more isolated than ever, the weight of his circumstances bearing down upon him like an invisible burden. And then, like a lifeline cast from the depths of despair, the letter had arrived, promising him release from his confinement and extending an invitation that both intrigued and unsettled him.
As Percy traced the elegant script adorning the parchment, he couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. The invitation, bearing the unmistakable crest of the House of Cinnamon, seemed to pulse with hidden meaning, its words veiled in layers of intrigue and uncertainty. Had his mysterious benefactor orchestrated his release from Azkaban, or was there a more sinister motive lurking beneath the surface?
The memory of the enchanted portkey, delivered by a majestic barn owl with eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul, sent shivers cascading down Percy's spine. It was a testament to the power and influence wielded by the enigmatic Lord of Cinnamon Grove, a figure whose reputation cast a long shadow over the wizarding world.
With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Percy steeled himself for what lay ahead. Whatever awaited him within the walls of Cinnamon Grove, he knew that he could not turn away from the path that fate had laid before him. Gripping the invitation tightly in his hand, he uttered the pass phrase that would activate the portkey, his voice tinged with a mixture of trepidation and determination.
As the world around him blurred into motion, whisking him away to an uncertain destiny, Percy could only hope that he had the courage to face whatever trials awaited him on the other side.
Percy Weasley squared his shoulders, drawing upon the reservoir of courage instilled in him by his Gryffindor heritage as he stood before the imposing entrance of Cinnamon Grove. With a steadying breath, he lifted the heavy brass knocker and let it fall twice, the sound reverberating through the silence like a portent of things to come.
As the door swung open noiselessly, Percy stepped into the grand foyer bathed in the warm glow of morning sunlight. His gaze swept over the opulent surroundings, taking in the intricately carved staircase and the polished marble floors with a mixture of awe and wariness.
A sudden movement caught Percy off guard, and he looked down to find himself face to face with a house-elf adorned in a resplendent yellow toga, the emblem of Cinnamon Grove embroidered upon its fabric. Despite his surprise, Percy managed a polite nod in response to the elf's greeting.
"Mr. Percival Weasley, be welcome to Cinnamon Grove," the elf said, its voice tinged with a hint of formality. "Fiana is to be at your service during your stay."
Percy's mind raced with a flurry of thoughts as he followed the elf's lead into the heart of the manor. Was this a mere courtesy, or was there something more sinister lurking beneath the surface? He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not when the stakes were so high.
"Thank you," Percy replied, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of anxiety that threatened to engulf him. He reminded himself of his father's words about the importance of politeness, even in the face of uncertainty.
As Fiana deftly relieved him of his coat, Percy couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over him like a suffocating cloak. With each step further into the depths of Cinnamon Grove, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into the lion's den, with no guarantee of safe passage out.
"Follow me, sir," the female house-elf instructed, her delicate features bearing an air of deference as she guided Percy through the halls of Cinnamon Grove. They passed through the connecting parlour, where plush armchairs encircled a magnificent glass coffee table, and Percy was bid to take a seat while the elf went to announce his arrival to her Lord.
Taking his place in one of the armchairs, Percy allowed himself a moment to take in the splendor of his surroundings. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking vista of the sprawling grounds that enveloped the manor, while magical mosaics adorned the glass panels, depicting a menagerie of fantastical creatures from nymphs to dragons. Percy couldn't help but marvel as some of the creatures seemed to acknowledge his presence, waving and smiling as if welcoming him into their midst. Even a dragon breathed vibrant blue flames that danced before his eyes, a mesmerizing spectacle that defied belief.
The walls, painted in a soothing shade of green reminiscent of springtime meadows, exuded a sense of tranquility that washed over Percy like a soothing balm. Above the mantle of the fireplace hung a striking painting of a sailing ship, its likeness harkening back to an era long past. And the light sconces that dotted the room took on the form of graceful occamies in flight, their wings outstretched as if caught in a perpetual dance.
As Percy settled into his seat, he couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events that had led him to this moment. The anticipation of the meeting had alternately unnerved and exhilarated him in the days leading up to it. Yet, amidst the opulent surroundings of Cinnamon Grove, he found himself surprisingly at ease, the pleasant ambiance of the room serving to soothe his frayed nerves.
It occurred to Percy then that every detail of the room's decor had been carefully curated to create an atmosphere of warmth and hospitality, a realization that spoke volumes about the meticulous nature of his host. It was a subtle yet undeniable display of power and influence, one that Percy recognized all too well from his years navigating the intricacies of British politics.
As he awaited the arrival of his host, Percy couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for him within the walls of Cinnamon Grove. But one thing was certain: he was prepared to face whatever challenges awaited him, armed with the knowledge and experience he had gained from years of service to the Ministry.
As Percy waited in the parlour, his thoughts drifted to the complexities of his family dynamics, a subject that weighed heavily on his mind. The Weasleys, though an Ancient House by lineage, seemed to lack an appreciation for the gravity of their heritage. Percy had dedicated himself to the arduous task of restoring the House of Weasley to its former glory, driven by a sense of duty and responsibility that few could comprehend. Yet, his efforts had only served to drive a wedge between himself and his family, particularly his father, who viewed Percy's ambitions with suspicion and disdain.
It pained Percy to see his family blinded by their ignorance, refusing to acknowledge the importance of their name and the legacy it carried. If only they could set aside their foolish pride and recognize the significance of their heritage. If only his father would abandon his misguided fascination with Muggles and focus on the preservation of their noble lineage.
Before Percy could dwell further on his familial frustrations, a voice shattered the silence, causing him to startle so abruptly that he felt the sting of whiplash. His gaze snapped towards the entrance of the parlour, where Joshua Greengrass stood, accompanied by none other than Sirius Black.
Percy's heart sank at the sight of the notorious Black, his presence adding an unexpected layer of complexity to an already precarious situation. It seemed that his apprehensions about this meeting had not been unfounded after all.
"Regent Greengrass," Percy said, rising to his feet with a mixture of deference and trepidation. "I thank you for extending your hospitality to me. And… my apologies, Lord Black. I must admit, your presence here comes as a surprise."
With careful precision, Percy navigated the delicate intricacies of Ancient House etiquette, mindful of the intricate dance of formalities that governed interactions between guests and hosts. He could only hope that Joshua Greengrass would adhere to the conventions of hospitality, sparing him from any further complications in an already tense situation.
Greengrass's disarming smile did little to quell Percy's underlying sense of unease, though he appreciated the reassurance, however fleeting it might be. "Thank you, Regent Greengrass," Percy replied, his tone tinged with a weary sincerity. "It's been a trying time, to say the least."
As Greengrass and Black exchanged knowing glances and took their seats, Percy couldn't shake the feeling of being cornered, his instincts urging him to keep a safe distance from the enigmatic Black. Yet, despite his best efforts, he found himself seated uncomfortably close to the infamous wizard, his nerves fraying with each passing moment.
"It's… it's quite an exquisite design," Percy stammered, grateful for the diversion as Greengrass directed his attention to the ornate sconces adorning the walls. "I must admit, I've never seen anything quite like them before."
Greengrass's expression softened with a hint of nostalgia at Percy's observation. "My late wife, the Lady Greengrass, had a fondness for them," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "She believed they were a fitting tribute to the creatures they represent."
Suddenly remembering his manners, Greengrass called out to the room, "Kenny, tea and refreshments, if you please."
Percy watched in awe as another house-elf, identical to the one who had greeted him earlier, appeared with a flourish. With a snap of its fingers, the room was adorned with a silver kettle, delicate glass cups, a bowl of sugar, and a tempting array of cupcakes and biscuits arranged neatly on a tray. Percy couldn't help but marvel at the efficiency and precision with which the house-elves operated, their every movement a testament to their unwavering dedication to their master.
As Kenny bowed respectfully before Greengrass before disappearing from sight, Percy couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in the midst of a carefully orchestrated performance. With each passing moment, the air grew heavier with unspoken tension, and Percy couldn't help but wonder what role he was meant to play in this intricate dance of power and politics.
Percy nodded politely as Greengrass gestured towards the array of refreshments, his fingers grazing the delicate handle of a teacup as he followed suit. He poured himself a cup of warm tea, adding a single cube of sugar with practiced precision, all the while acutely aware of Sirius Black's intense scrutiny.
As they engaged in polite small talk, Percy couldn't shake the feeling of being under a microscope, his every word and gesture dissected by the keen eyes of his hosts. It was a sensation he had grown accustomed to in his years navigating the intricate webs of politics and diplomacy, but one that never failed to unnerve him nonetheless.
Greengrass placed his cup on the table with a decisive clink, drawing Percy's attention back to the matter at hand. "I'm sure you're wondering about the purpose of this social call," he remarked, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity.
Percy maintained his best poker face, a carefully crafted facade of confusion and deference that had served him well in countless interactions with his superiors. "The thought crossed my mind, yes," he replied evenly, careful to keep his tone neutral despite the tumult of emotions swirling beneath the surface.
Percy listened intently as Greengrass outlined the significance of the alliance between their respective houses, his mind working overtime to decipher the true purpose behind this unexpected meeting. It was no secret that the alliance between House Black, House Greengrass, and House Potter held considerable sway within the Wizengamot, their collective influence shaping the course of wizarding politics in ways both subtle and profound.
Yet, as Greengrass spoke, Percy couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this meeting than a mere display of political power. The alliance, while formidable, seemed like a sledgehammer being used to crack a walnut. It was a show of strength that felt unnecessarily ostentatious, especially coming from a man as reserved and measured as Joshua Greengrass.
As Percy pondered the implications of Greengrass's words, a nagging question gnawed at the edges of his consciousness: why him? Why had he been singled out for this meeting, when there were surely more pressing matters demanding the attention of the noble houses?
The answer eluded him, tantalizingly out of reach like a whisper on the wind. But Percy was determined to uncover the truth, whatever it may be. With every fiber of his being, he resolved to unravel the mystery that lay at the heart of Cinnamon Grove, even if it meant delving into the darkest recesses of wizarding society.
As Greengrass's smile widened, Percy steeled himself for whatever revelations lay ahead, his mind racing with possibilities and his heart pounding with anticipation. Whatever the reason for this meeting, Percy knew one thing for certain: it would change the course of his destiny forever.
Percy's breath caught in his throat at Sirius Black's unexpected declaration, his mind reeling as he struggled to process the implications of the revelation. The sheer bluntness with which it was delivered left him momentarily speechless, a mixture of disbelief and relief washing over him in equal measure.
To hear such words from a man with Sirius Black's reputation was nothing short of astonishing. It was a stark reminder of the unpredictability of life, the way fate could twist and turn in the blink of an eye, leaving one reeling in its wake.
But even as Percy grappled with the shock of the revelation, a sense of unease settled over him like a dark cloud on the horizon. If they knew he was innocent, then why had they summoned him to Cinnamon Grove? What ulterior motives lay behind this clandestine meeting?
A sudden realization dawned on Percy, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkness. This wasn't just a social call or a mere formality. It was a test, an audition of sorts, designed to assess his loyalty and worthiness to join their ranks.
The thought sent a shiver down Percy's spine, his mind racing with possibilities. If he passed this test, it could open doors to opportunities he had never dared to dream of. But if he failed… the consequences didn't bear thinking about.
With a steely resolve, Percy squared his shoulders and met Greengrass and Black's gazes head-on. Whatever they were after, he was determined to prove himself worthy of their trust and confidence, no matter the cost. After all, he had nothing left to lose but everything to gain.
Percy hesitated, acutely aware of the weight of Sirius Black's scrutiny as he searched for the right words to explain his actions. The memory of the trial, with its accusatory glares and damning evidence, loomed large in his mind, a constant reminder of the choices that had led him to this moment.
"I…" Percy began, his voice faltering slightly as he grappled with the enormity of the question. "I had no choice."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and lingering regret. Percy's gaze shifted between Greengrass and Black, his heart pounding in his chest as he braced himself for their response.
Greengrass regarded him with a thoughtful expression, his eyes betraying a hint of understanding beneath their steely exterior. "Go on," he prompted gently, his tone encouraging yet insistent.
Percy took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "Regent Greengrass had it right," he continued, his voice gaining strength with each word. "Minister Fudge had offered me the promotion to Under Secretary just weeks before the Third Task. As his Secretary, I was allowed to sign letters on his behalf. And yes, I signed those memos, but believe me, I did not know what it was for."
He paused, his throat tight with emotion. "I mean, it's well-known that Mr. Diggory is a stickler for rules, and maybe it was causing inconvenience for the Department of Transportation. I thought Minister Fudge was offering the rewards to… well, grease the wheels a bit. He does that from time to time."
Percy's words hung in the air, a stark admission of his own naivety and blind loyalty to a superior who had betrayed him in the cruelest of ways. He could feel Black's penetrating gaze boring into him, his eyes boring into Percy's soul as if searching for any hint of deception or falsehood.
"Why didn't you say that at the trial?" Black's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of intensity that sent a shiver down Percy's spine.
Percy's mind raced as he recalled Sirius Black's formidable reputation within the Hit-wizard service, his achievements immortalized in the annals of wizarding history. Unlike Aurors, Hit-wizards operated with a ruthless efficiency, their mandate clear-cut and uncompromising: capture or eliminate dangerous criminals with little regard for standard Ministry protocol.
The weight of Black's presence loomed over Percy like a dark shadow, a stark reminder of the formidable adversary he faced. With Black now serving as Hit-Wizard Captain under Director Bones, the stakes of this confrontation had just been raised to a whole new level.
"It wasn't like Minister Fudge would allow it," Percy replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "And even if he did, there is always the confounding charm. After all, if someone could confound a Triwizard Champion into casting an unforgivable, and kidnap Harry Potter, what's stopping them from doing the same to me? I am, after all… just another paper-pusher."
He winced inwardly at the bitterness that seeped into his words, hoping it didn't betray the depths of his frustration and disillusionment. The reality of his situation was grim: pitted against the machinations of a corrupt Ministry and a duplicitous Minister, he felt like a pawn in a game he could never hope to win.
"And then… it'd be my word against the Minister," Percy continued, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning within him. "You cannot force the Minister to a veritaserum questioning without a two-thirds majority support. It'd yield nothing but turn me into a public enemy. At least this way, I am still free, and can try to get a job in private. If nothing else, I have some contacts in Australia to start over."
His words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of wizarding politics and the sacrifices one must make to survive in a world rife with corruption and deceit.
"And because of that," Black growled, his voice dripping with contempt, "Fudge got away scot-free."
Percy's words were like sparks igniting a powder keg, his pent-up frustration and resentment bursting forth in a torrent of emotion. He refused to cower in the face of Black's imposing presence, his defiance fueled by a burning desire to reclaim his dignity and assert his autonomy.
"Excuse me for saving my arse," Percy shot back, his voice laced with defiance. "And if you were really so confident, perhaps you should've raised a vote of no-confidence against the Minister right then."
The tension crackled in the air, thick and palpable as Percy and Black locked gazes in a battle of wills. But Percy refused to back down, his resolve unyielding in the face of Black's simmering anger.
"Don't think I've forgotten your words about my godson," Black retorted, his voice dripping with contempt.
"And what of it?" Percy demanded, his temper flaring. He had lost everything, made mistakes he could never undo, but he refused to be silenced by Black's thinly veiled threats. He may have been at their mercy, but he would not be their puppet, especially when it came to Harry Potter.
"Harry Potter has brought nothing but misery to my family," Percy continued, his voice rising with each word. "Ron was nearly paralyzed because he joined the Boy-Who-Lived on his adventures. My little sister was possessed and nearly killed. And unless you've forgotten, you yourself broke Ron's leg in his third year. And now this travesty! Every single year, Harry bloody Potter gets his nose into places where it doesn't belong and drags my family with it. So yes, forgive me for not bending backwards in awe of your bloody godson!"
The words hung in the air, charged with raw emotion and bitter resentment. Percy's chest heaved with exertion, his heart pounding in his ears as he awaited Black's response, unwilling to back down in the face of his fury.
"You uppity little—" Sirius began, rising to his feet with a menacing glint in his eyes.
Greengrass's intervention quelled the rising tension in the room, his calm demeanor serving as a soothing balm to the simmering conflict between Percy and Black. With a firm grip on Black's arm, he gently guided him back into his seat before turning his attention back to Percy with a measured expression.
"My apologies," Greengrass began, his voice tinged with regret. "Lord Black is… a little sensitive about Mr. Potter. That said, Mr. Weasley, I have taken an active interest in Mr. Potter's upbringing and his adventures, and I believe your perception is a little flawed."
Percy felt a pang of discomfort at Greengrass's words, his pride wounded by the implication that his grievances against Harry Potter were unfounded. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly feeling exposed beneath Greengrass's scrutinizing gaze.
"It was actually young Ronald and Miss Granger that demanded to go with young Harry to the third floor back in his first year, and no, I have proof. I have seen the memories. We both have," Greengrass continued, his tone gentle yet firm.
Percy's jaw tightened as he absorbed Greengrass's words, the truth of his assertion cutting through the fog of resentment that clouded his mind. He grumbled under his breath, unable to refute Greengrass's logic, no matter how much he wished to cling to his own grievances.
"But let us not digress, Mister Weasley," Greengrass continued, his tone shifting to one of businesslike efficiency. "I am sure you know this. I do not care for the Pureblood movement, nor those that oppose them. While war generates excellent profits, if one understands the right ventures to invest in, I understand what we face is nothing but a slow attrition of our culture, economy and nation. Such a situation does not generate any goodwill or profit for my House or my allies."
Percy listened intently to Greengrass's words, his mind racing with the implications of his statement. It was clear that Greengrass was not driven by ideology or allegiance to any particular faction, but rather by a pragmatic understanding of the realities of power and influence in the wizarding world. And if Percy wanted to prove his worth to Greengrass and Black, he would need to demonstrate his willingness to adapt and evolve in the face of changing circumstances.
Percy's eyebrows furrowed as Greengrass delved into the intricacies of pattern recognition, his curiosity piqued by the man's astute observations. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at Greengrass's sudden change in direction, his mind racing to decipher the implications of the seemingly innocuous conversation.
"I am also very fond of patterns, Mister Weasley," Greengrass remarked, his tone casual yet tinged with an underlying intensity. "Absolutely fascinated by them. I consider myself, all modesty aside, a savant of pattern recognition and deduction. The best patterns are observed when you notice people who break their routines and step out of their molds."
Percy's pulse quickened at Greengrass's words, his instincts warning him of the potential danger lurking beneath the surface. He listened intently as Greengrass continued, his words laden with a calculated nonchalance that belied the gravity of the situation.
"Take this, for example," Greengrass continued, his voice betraying a hint of amusement. "A student from a progressive pureblood family rises to the position of Prefect and then Head Boy. Upon graduating, he receives a letter of recommendation from Albus Dumbledore himself, and becomes the personal assistant of Bartemious Crouch Sr. and a senior officer of the International Magical Trading Standards Body. Interestingly, he develops an anti-Harry Potter stance out of nowhere, even though he kept friendly relations with him before. And then, fortune strikes him, and he rises to the position of Junior Under Secretary to the Minister of Magic. Interestingly, said individual suddenly shows a public anti-Dumbledore stance. Ring any bells?"
Percy's blood ran cold at Greengrass's words, his mind racing to connect the dots of his own past actions and decisions. He felt exposed, as if Greengrass had peeled back the layers of his carefully constructed facade to reveal the truth lurking beneath. And as the weight of Greengrass's scrutiny bore down on him, Percy couldn't help but wonder if he had become nothing more than a pawn in a game he couldn't hope to win.
Percy's fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his rising anger and apprehension. Greengrass's predatory smile sent a shiver down his spine, a cold realization dawning on him as he realized the extent of the man's knowledge.
"And then it gets even more interesting," Greengrass continued, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "We see this individual visiting a certain inn in Diagon Alley, in the company of a certain someone, every Saturday, without fail."
Percy's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of Greengrass's words. He felt a surge of panic rising within him, threatening to overwhelm his carefully constructed facade.
"And what of it?" Percy snapped, his voice tinged with desperation as Greengrass's smile widened with predatory amusement. He had seen that look before, the same calculating gaze that Dolores Umbridge had wielded like a weapon in her relentless pursuit of power and control.
"I… erm, one is free to have lunch with whomever they wish," Percy stammered, his voice faltering as Greengrass's words struck home with brutal clarity.
"Naturally, naturally," Greengrass replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "And what a lovely couple they make. It's just… this lunch-pal turns out to be the lovely Miss Hestia Jones, member of Albus Dumbledore's infamous Order of the Phoenix."
Percy felt the color drain from his face, a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he realized the gravity of Greengrass's accusations. His mind raced with the implications of his association with Hestia Jones, a known member of the Order of the Phoenix, and the potential consequences of his actions.
In that moment, Percy knew that he stood on the precipice of a precipice, his fate hanging in the balance as Greengrass's scrutiny bore down on him with relentless intensity. And as the full weight of his indiscretions came crashing down upon him, Percy could only pray that he would find a way to escape the tangled web of lies and deceit that threatened to consume him whole.
"Isn't it curious," mused Draco, his brow furrowing with suspicion, "that the Minister's Undersecretary, notorious for his staunch anti-Dumbledore stance and fervent disdain for Harry Potter, is in cahoots with her?"
Percy shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room. "I...I wasn't aware that she was associated with..." he stammered, his voice trailing off weakly.
Greengrass interjected smoothly, her tone dripping with intrigue. "Perhaps it's plausible. Women, after all, are enigmatic creatures, even to the most astute men. But then, let us not forget the events of 1992, when this individual's sister fell victim to a cursed tome, unwittingly unleashing a basilisk upon the school grounds—only to be rescued by none other than Harry Potter himself. It seems this individual now takes great pride in his family lineage, basking in the glory of its ancient heritage and the debts owed to it by others."
Percy's jaw clenched so tightly that he could have sworn he heard the faint crack of his own teeth under the strain.
"I believe young Weasley has grasped the essence of your message, Joshua," remarked Black, his steely gaze fixed upon Percy like that of a predatory wolf. "And indeed, we are well aware of Albus Dumbledore's clandestine visits to you during your time in Azkaban, masquerading as an inquiry into the truth behind your actions. You've been a pawn in Dumbledore's game all along, haven't you?"
A chill crept up Percy's spine, constricting around his chest like an icy vice.
"Why...why are you doing this?" he ventured, his voice betraying a tremor of uncertainty.
Greengrass regarded him with a cool, calculated expression. "We're merely seeking clarity, Mr. Weasley. Ensuring mutual understanding is crucial, wouldn't you agree?"
"That sounds dangerously close to blackmail," Percy retorted, his tone laced with defiance.
Greengrass's lips curled into a sly smile. "Consider it a form of...negotiation," she countered smoothly.
Percy weighed his options carefully, the weight of their scrutiny bearing down upon him. Dumbledore could offer assistance, of that he was certain. But at what cost? Exposing their clandestine alliance could jeopardize his family's future plans, their aspirations for influence and power within the wizarding world. Sometimes sacrifices were necessary, he reasoned, for the greater good. Enduring a few months in the relative comfort of a low-security wing in Azkaban seemed a small price to pay if it meant safeguarding his family from undue scrutiny and harm.
"Mister Weasley, you pose quite the intriguing dilemma for us," Greengrass remarked, her tone laced with calculated consideration. "On one hand, your actions have contributed to the escape of criminals. Yet on the other, you seem to be...shall we say, aligned with a certain cause. You represent both a potential threat and a potential asset to our interests."
Percy felt a knot tighten in his stomach. So this was the crux of it all—why he had been granted bail in the first place.
"What exactly was your arrangement with Albus Dumbledore?" Sirius Black's voice cut through the tense air, his gaze penetrating.
Percy squared his shoulders, steeling himself for what was to come. There was no point in evading the truth any longer. "I provided him with information as needed," he confessed, the weight of his admission heavy upon his conscience.
"What sort of information?" Greengrass probed further, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Percy hesitated, the weight of his oath pressing down upon him. "I...I cannot divulge specifics," he admitted reluctantly.
Greengrass's scrutiny intensified. "Bound by oath, I presume?" she deduced, her tone betraying no hint of sympathy.
After a moment's pause, Percy nodded grimly in affirmation.
"I see," Sirius Black interjected, his expression inscrutable. "And what of your family's...dysfunction? Is that also part of your...arrangement?"
Percy released a heavy sigh, the weight of his choices bearing down upon him like a leaden burden. "It was necessary," he confessed quietly. "I understood what the Minister expected of me. And I knew that my outward loyalty to him would diminish if he discovered my true allegiances. But it was a sacrifice I deemed necessary, to protect my family from further scrutiny and manipulation."
Greengrass fixed him with a penetrating gaze. "And what of Harry Potter?" she inquired, her tone sharp with scrutiny.
Percy bristled at the mention of Potter's name, his resentment simmering beneath the surface. "What about him?" he countered defensively.
"You were rather harsh toward him during the trial," Greengrass persisted, her words cutting through his defenses. "And let's not forget, you were under the influence of veritaserum at the time."
Percy's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. "I spoke the truth," he asserted firmly. "Potter has been nothing but a curse upon my family. I...I know it's not entirely his fault, but I can't help but wish...wish that my family had never crossed paths with him that day at King's Cross. Perhaps things would have been different if Potter had been sorted into another House."
Greengrass's lips curved into a knowing smile, while Sirius Black's expression darkened with disapproval.
"I must admit, Mr. Weasley, I find myself intrigued by your next move," Greengrass remarked, disregarding Percy's outburst as she leaned forward with renewed interest.
Percy felt a surge of desperation grip his chest, the notion of escape seeming more appealing with each passing moment.
"Mister Weasley?" Greengrass's voice sliced through his tumultuous thoughts.
Percy dragged his gaze back to the present, his expression resigned. "What do you want from me, Lord Greengrass?" he asked wearily.
Greengrass flashed him a disarming smile, her demeanor oozing with confidence. "I would like to offer you employment," she declared casually.
Percy blinked in disbelief. "Employment?" he echoed, his voice tinged with incredulity.
"Yes," Greengrass affirmed, lifting a delicate china cup to her lips. "Cornelius Fudge has proven to be a liability in recent times, too blinded by his own agenda to see the impending storm. With the Dark Lord's resurgence, it's only a matter of time before he's ousted from power. Unfortunately, he seems determined to hasten his own downfall with his latest decrees, which I'm sure you're well aware of."
Percy scowled, his disdain for Fudge's administration evident. The idea of Dolores Umbridge being considered suitable for any position of authority was utterly ludicrous in his eyes. That woman couldn't be trusted with the care of a common houseplant, let alone the education of young witches and wizards.
"You don't seem particularly surprised by this development," observed Sirius Black, his gaze sharp with scrutiny.
"Why should I be?" Percy retorted, his tone tinged with bitterness. "Potter may be many things, but he's not a liar. And besides, Dumbledore has always maintained that the Dark Lord's influence never truly waned."
Greengrass took another leisurely sip of her tea, her eyes glinting with purpose. "I'm aware that the Malfoy faction is positioning Corban Yaxley and Antonius Selwyn as their ministerial candidates," she added casually, as if discussing the weather.
Percy listened intently as Greengrass laid out the political landscape, her words painting a vivid picture of the intricate web of alliances and rivalries that governed the wizarding world.
"He holds the vote for House Malfoy and is poised to replace Scrimgeour following his retirement," Greengrass explained, her tone laced with confidence. "Corban Yaxley has the advantage of a distinguished Auror background, a credential that will undoubtedly appease the Wizengamot, particularly in light of the Dark Lord's potential resurgence. He's also a sympathizer, deeply entrenched in networks across Europe."
Greengrass's smile widened with satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "And for the Light faction, they'll likely rally behind Amelia Bones."
Percy's mind raced with calculations, his thoughts aligning with a well-oiled machine. "Bones will likely decline," he interjected automatically. "She's not only the Director but the linchpin of the DMLE. House Bones provides vital funding for Hit-Wizard equipment, especially with Fudge's constant attempts to slash the department's budget. Their best bet would have been with Scrimgeour—Head Auror and a seasoned politician, not to mention Yaxley's direct superior."
Greengrass nodded in agreement, acknowledging the astuteness of Percy's analysis. "Indeed, Scrimgeour would have been a formidable candidate," she conceded.
Percy felt a dawning realization wash over him, connecting the dots as the pieces fell into place. He glanced at Sirius Black, his mind whirling with newfound understanding. "You're ascending the ranks of the DMLE," he observed, his voice tinged with recognition. "And I recall reading about House Black's substantial contribution to the DMLE fund. If House Bones were to form a coalition with House Black, Potter, and yourself..."
It all clicked into place, the puzzle finally revealing its hidden pattern.
Percy's mind raced with the implications of Greengrass's intricate machinations, his thoughts spinning like a whirlwind.
"If Scrimgeour ascends to Minister, then Amelia Bones could seamlessly transition to the role of Head Auror, while Lord Black assumes the position of DMLE Director," Percy mused aloud, his eyes widening with realization. "That's your ultimate goal, isn't it?"
Greengrass chuckled, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You've only just begun to scratch the surface of my ambitions, Mister Weasley."
Percy's brow furrowed in confusion. "What...what kind of job are you proposing for me?" he inquired cautiously.
Greengrass paused, contemplating her response as she took another leisurely sip of her tea. "Despite your...less than stellar reputation, we recognize your potential," she began, her tone measured. "And I believe that potential could be harnessed for our mutual benefit."
Percy's heart quickened with apprehension. "What...what kind of job are we talking about?" he pressed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Greengrass's smile widened, her eyes alight with anticipation. "Ordinarily, I would offer you the position of my assistant. However, given certain...complications with my current assistant, Penelope Clearwater, I fear that arrangement would be less than ideal."
Percy's mind whirled with possibilities. "Then...Mr. Black?" he suggested, turning his gaze toward Sirius Black.
Sirius shook his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm a Hit-wizard, not a politician," he explained. "No, the one you'll be working for is my godson, Harry Potter."
Percy's jaw dropped in astonishment. "This is your retaliation for my actions during the trial, isn't it?" he accused, his voice tinged with frustration.
Sirius's grin was unrepentant. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied cryptically. "But as I mentioned, I'm a Hit-wizard. House Potter holds the proxy for House Black and boasts strong ties to House Greengrass, particularly with my godson set to marry the eldest Greengrass daughter within the year."
Percy was taken aback by this revelation, his mind reeling with newfound understanding. It all made sense now—the sudden shift in Greengrass's allegiance toward Potter, the intricate web of connections that bound their fates together.
"So, you want me to become Harry Potter's secretary?" Percy clarified, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Sirius nodded, his expression serious. "Yes," he affirmed simply.
"And you want all the information I possess about Fudge and his cronies?" Percy sought confirmation, his tone tinged with a hint of apprehension.
Greengrass nodded, her expression inscrutable. "Yes," she affirmed simply.
"And if I agree to this...task," Percy pressed on, his voice trembling slightly, "will you ensure the safety of my family?"
Greengrass's gaze softened with understanding. "That goes without saying," she reassured him, her tone firm. "But yes, I can guarantee their protection. Will that be sufficient, Mr. Weasley?"
Percy rose to his feet, a sense of uncertainty gnawing at his insides. Extending his hand in a gesture of acquiescence, he offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. "Please," he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "call me Percy."
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