The monotonous buzz of the Muggle television hummed in the back ground of the pub, melding into the garble of enthusiastic shouts and sports commentary made by the men who lined the bar on the sunny afternoon. Hazy, peach tinted shades of light streamed through the wide open door, a subtle taste of spring nestled neatly in those pockets of light.

Percy Weasley swirled his drink in front of him, watching as small dust storms whirled about in the amber liquid. He sat alone at the end of the bar, partially hidden in the shadows and occasionally looking up at the screen. Some Muggle sport that centered on one black and white ball raged across the television and had completely engrossed the pub patrons. Percy found the sport to be boring, only entertained by the enthusiasm it created from the Muggles around him. It felt good to escape the pressures of the magical world and all the darkness it was in at the moment and take a breather in the mundane Muggle world. Nothing was unpredictable here except the people.

And today Percy needed an escape, but whether it was from the magical world or himself, he wasn’t quite sure. For today was Bill’s wedding. He still had the invitation in his pocket, the delicate spidery handwriting of Bill’s future wife seeming to burn a hole in his pocket. Ever since he had gotten that invitation, it had become a dark shadow in the back of his mind and an ache had formed in his chest.

Percy wondered how it was he had gotten to this point in his life. He had always looked up to Bill. For Percy, Bill had been his role model for most of his life and the only one who really understood his drive to succeed in everything that he did. So how was it that he sat in a Muggle bar on the very day his favorite brother was getting married?

A part of him argued that his family would never understand him. He was abiding by the laws of their society, protecting their world and doing his part to thwart a growing evil. He rationally thought that his family had never been able to see reason as he saw it. For the past year, that part of him had been dominating his decisions and consequently his actions. It had led to him severing his ties to his family.

But lately, a change had been taking place in him, some creature wrapped in a cocoon of self-doubt and introspection. It told him that he should be at Bill’s wedding, but he also knew that it would have been nearly impossible for him to face his family after all that he had done. He had shown his true allegiances when he had sided with the Ministry over his family and a part of him knew that they would never really forgive him for that transgression.

As Percy downed the last of his drink and slapped a few bills of the strange Muggle money down on the bar, he wondered what it was his family was doing at that very moment. He knew that it was early enough in the day that the wedding hadn’t started yet. He knew that his mother was probably helping with the decorations or maybe she was helping the bride get ready. His father was probably puttering around, making embarrassing comments on random Muggle objects. Ginny would be putting on the final touches to her dress and hair. Fred and George were most likely trying to come up with a good gift for Bill and his wife, that would probably cause more trouble than good. Ron would be with his two friends as he always was and Charlie would be chatting up some bridesmaids, if Percy knew any better.

What Percy really wondered about was what it was his oldest brother, Bill, was feeling? Was he scared? Did he wonder about what sort of future lay in front of him and his soon to be wife with the war on? Percy had heard from Kingsley about Bill’s injuries given to him by Fenrir. He knew that those scars would never leave his older brother.

Percy thought about his older brother and knew he should have been with him the night he had gotten those terrible wounds. And what excuse could he really give as to why he wasn’t by his side? He was busy filing reports? Or he was on an important errand for the Minister? He knew his family would have understood if he had just made it to Bill’s side, even if he were late, but to not go at all, that he knew was an unforgivable offense in their eyes. Percy knew that the reasons he had would have given would have been a lie. He hadn't gone because he was too busy. Now he was beginning to see things a little differently. He was absent in his family’s time of need because of his pride and his shame. And that was the absolute truth, a truth he had had a hard time facing over the past year.

As Percy stumbled to the door, a part of his mind reminded him that there was still time. He could still make it to the wedding. The invitation in his pocket burned all the more, now that that thought had presented itself. A secret part of him had a flash of boldness. Maybe he would just stop by, just to let his brother know that he supported him.

A smile was slowly returning to his face as he contemplated what gift he could quickly grab before heading over there, his rational mind completely stunned by this turn of events. He had never been impulsive like Fred and George. He planned everything done to every meticulous detail, but it felt good to be rash every once in awhile. After all, he had once been a Gryffindor.

As Percy made it to the front door, this new boldness was invigorating, taking the edge off his nerves and frayed emotions that had been hunting him, since the moment he had heard of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return.

All of his gusto quickly left him as he exited the Muggle tavern. Standing just outside the front door was Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish. His heart plummeted to a cold pit of fear as he noticed the frightened look on their faces. They were not easily frightened of anything. He knew something terrible had happened and for a brief moment a panic swept through him as he imagined his family dead.

"Mr. Weasley, we have grave news," Kingsley started. Percy readied himself and was very thankful at that moment for that little drink he had had earlier. A thousand horrid images raced through his mind and his stomach did hundreds of flips as he waited.

"The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, is dead," Shacklebolt stated solemnly.

Percy exhaled loudly, not even being aware that he had even inhaled at all. His heart still raced in his chest. For a horrible, dark moment, he had thought that Kingsley was going to say that some members of his family had been killed. It took Percy a moment to focus his attention, aware that Kingsley was speaking, but unaware what exactly he was saying.

"The Minister was found tortured and murdered last night after the Ministry fell under attack by the Death Eaters. We need everyone in at the Ministry right now to get everything stabilized and under control. The wizarding world is going to panic when they hear that their Minister was murdered in their own Ministry. We have to act quickly!"

Percy nodded as the truth sunk in. Rufus Scrimgeour, their fearless leader, was dead. He was murdered, which was even worse for Percy to handle. Who would have the audacity to attack the Minister of Magic in his own stronghold, but Percy knew all too well who would be able to pull that off. Their enemy was more formidable than he had ever imagined.

Without thinking, Percy followed Kingsley and Dawlish to an empty alley. When no one was around, the two Aurors quickly Apparated away, but before Percy did so himself, he put his hand into his pocket. The invitation slid easily into his waiting hand, its imprinted words scalding his fingertips. Percy felt tears sting his eyes as he thought about what his brother and his family would think of him for not showing up. He knew that they would never understand.

Before allowing his tears to fall, Percy pulled his hand out of his pocket and Apparated away.

***************

The bright sun beat down on London, it’s white beams ricocheting off glass with a hot intensity on everything and everyone. It was an odd day, muggy with the occasional small bit of cloud cover. Percy could feel his sweat starting to trickle down his forehead as he headed towards the main entrance of the Ministry. At his side, Kingsley and Dawlish’s quick steps made an urgent patter, which made Percy’s stomach twist inside.

What was it they were racing towards? What unforeseeable doom? Percy hated not knowing what it was he was about to face. His love for order and rules stemmed from his need to frame his world in certainties. Certainties centered his mind when he was frightened and had been his guiding star for most of his life. Now he faced a world where all the rules had been thrown out the window and he suddenly felt overwhelmed with every fear he had ever had: fear of failure, fear of the unknown and fear of not being quite good enough.

Without realizing it, Percy and his companions had arrived at the Ministry’s official entrance, which had been changed for security purposes, though what good it did them now was beyond Percy at the moment. All three men walked down an alley towards a door marked Gentleman and strode into the bathroom. Kingsley handed Percy a coin and then all three men went into separate stalls. Percy knew what to do. He stepped into the toilet, put the coin in the slot and flushed.

The effect was instantaneous. Percy landed at the side of his companions in the Atrium of the Ministry. He had expected to see some damage, especially since the magical fountain had yet to be repaired from the embarrassing incident two years before when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been within their walls. That was when Albus Dumbledore was still alive. It was also the year that Percy had splintered off from his family, a fact that he was beginning to truly regret.

But what he saw now was so much worse. A vicious skirmish had taken place within these walls just a few hours before. Percy followed Kingsley past the gaping holes in the walls and debris that littered the once magnificent floor. Dim lights shrouded the place in confusing shadows and what was usually a busy thoroughfare of workers walking towards the elevators was nearly empty. Not everyone had arrived yet, which Percy thought was odd and not everyone knew what it was they should do. Do they go back to work when their Minister lay dead?

Percy strode past the frantic workers who milled about aimlessly. Never had anyone ever suspected that their own Minister would be killed in their own Ministry. Percy swallowed his growing panic and the daze of helplessness that threatened to fall over him. Here and there he recognized faces and gave them a curt nod of his head, but everything was becoming one blur in his mind. He was finding it hard to breathe as he walked passed the halls where spells had singed the walls.

Everywhere he looked, he saw devastation. Every face was filled with it, that hallow mask of despair. Percy knew that no one would be the same. A piece of their surety and belief that their world was safe from such horrors had been robbed from them last night and he saw it in every person he passed. It was as if the people had become ghosts, wandering and lost. Rufus had not been the greatest Minister of Magic or the most loved, but he had been the symbol of strength. If even the Head of the Auror office couldn’t survive the oncoming darkness, how could any of them?

But what was more worrisome was the thought that Rufus had been attacked from within. People who were apart of the ministry had had a hand in killing him. How else could he had been cornered as he had, and left unprotected? Percy felt a guilt start to claw its way up from his stomach, that niggling feeling that he should have been here, should have done something to stop this. Where was he when the Minister had fallen? The invitation in his pocket suddenly felt very heavy. He had requested some time off from work when he had first gotten his invitation, still unsure if he would go, but his days off had been put to no use. With nowhere to go and nothing to do, he had spent most of his time alone in his flat. That was where he had been when the Minister had been killed and that made Percy feel completely useless.


Percy turned towards Kingsley, and saw that the same look was etched into his usually impassive face. He must have felt as helpless as Percy did. They were supposed to be the protectors, the guardians and yet they couldn’t even protect themselves. Percy felt his stomach lurch and his nerves splinter into tiny fragments that jabbed him constantly. Every which he looked, he saw chaos, people running without a direction, the slap of their feet sharp to his ears; tempers flared with the screech of panic and the sound of a plaintive weeping interweaved itself throughout this symphony of discord.

Percy followed Kingsley without really thinking as to where it was his feet were taking him. He moved, but he was not aware of it. He saw, but he couldn’t register anything. Too much seemed surreal as if this were one long nightmare. When Percy did finally arrive at the battered office of the Minister for Magic, a nervous throng of people was already milling outside the door, waiting for the news that was to surely come. Who would replace Scrimgeour? That thought had been dancing fretfully in the back of Percy’s mind and it was, no doubt, on the minds of everyone who waited for any sort of news.

As Percy drew near the front of the group, with Kingsley on one side and Dawlish on the other, his breath caught in his throat as he looked upon the stout figure of Dolores Umbridge.

Dressed in navy blues robes, Dolores stood perfectly at ease in front of the office door, which was battered and scorched across its surface. By Dolores’ side was another man, one that Percy had only met briefly, and his name was Pius Thicknesse. Thicknesse was an older wizard with long black hair and a beard streaked with silver. He was frightening to look at, especially when he stood next to Dolores.

Along the walls behind the pair was a small cadre of witches and wizards, most of them holding prominent positions in the Ministry. Percy had a bad feeling about this. It was the sure way that Dolores was smiling as if the death of a Minister was something to be cheerful about. Percy had never been very fond of Dolores. At first, her adherence to the rules had been quite similar to his own and he had thought he had found an unlikely ally, but not even he could fully stomach her actions and disciplinary measures. He believed that people should be punished for crimes they had committed, but not as she would have them punished and not for the crimes she claimed they had committed.

Everyone at the Ministry, over the past couple months, had learned to give Dolores space. They knew they would be punished in one way or another if they crossed her path. To see her standing at the side of Pius in front of the Minister’s office was slightly terrifying to Percy. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one either.

Dolores cleared her throat and a heavy silence quickly fell. A mask of grief filled her face, but Percy hoped no one would believe the sham. Dolores pointed her wand at her throat and amplified her voice so that every part of the Ministry would hear what she had to say.

“My fellow witches and wizards, we find ourselves at the crossroads of change. Our dear Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, has been killed in an unfortunate incident. Now grief is expected for such a great man who had accomplished so much, but we must also push forward. In this case, progress is good and necessary. And with that in mind, I come to you with a heavy heart-” Dolores paused to play up the notion that she actually felt any pain over this before she continued, “- to announce that our new Minister of Magic will be Pius Thicknesse.”

A distraught murmur rose from the crowd around the office. Percy knew exactly what it was they were whispering about. The Minister was always voted on by the wizarding community. In a time of crisis, a Minister could be appointed to lead them, but not by someone with Dolores Umbridge’s authority. An anger started to build in Percy, an anger over how the rules had just been subverted right before his eyes and all around him the sentiment was spreading. There was anger, yes, but there was also fear and fear is what kept people from speaking up against this new decision.

Meanwhile, Dolores waited, her smile back on her lips, though it looked like a grin of a ravenous wolf. She let her words sink in before she continued on.

“In this time of change, we need strong leadership and a sure hand to guide us. We have been wallowing in self-destructive practices for too long. The wizarding world is on the brink of disaster and Minister Thicknesse will guide us through. We will need to change old practices that have been detrimental to our wizarding cause and add new ones that will help us stem the tide of the dissolution of our kind. Minister Thicknesse will lead us in our time of need. Change is inevitable, but we will see it through!”

Those last words lingered in the air like hot vapor and a moment of stunned silence matriculated throughout the crowd. Then the clapping began to spring up here and there and like a wildfire, spread quickly throughout the crowd. Only a few remained silent, like Kingsley, who stood with his hands unmoving at his side. Others gave Dolores’ announcement a hearty welcome, like Dawlish, whose booming claps sliced into Percy’s ears.

Percy had raised his hands to clap because he was so used to doing what others did, used to following the crowd, but then he felt the weight of the invitation in his pocket again. He thought of his family. Then he thought about Scrimgeour. This was not how a Minister should be chosen. Percy dropped his hands.

Kingsley had noticed the moment, that inner battle in Percy, and moved a little closer to him. He bent down towards Percy’s ear and whispered, “My, what a clean and quiet little coup we have here.”

Percy didn’t respond, didn’t know how to respond. A part of him recoiled from the word “coup” and another part of him knew that Kingsley was right. This was an underhanded coup d’ètat.

Kingsley waited for a moment for a response from him and when he knew he wasn’t going to get one, he turned and strode out of the crowd. That left Percy next to Dawlish whose wide smile was irritating him at the moment. Percy felt a sudden constriction in his chest and had a sudden need to get out of that crowd, away from that office. He pushed his way through the people, his breath short in his lungs. He was only able to breathe correctly again when he reached the now deserted Atrium and leaned against one of the empty fireplaces of the Floo network.

A bubble of nauseousness billowed up in him and for a dizzy moment, it looked as if he would be sick.

“Percy!”

It was Kingsley’s smooth voice behind him and it pulled Percy out of his momentary weakness. He tensed as he turned around, afraid of what Kingsley would say. There were certain words that mustn’t be said at the moment or said again. “Coup” would not be looked on kindly here.

Shacklebolt stopped a few feet from Percy, giving him plenty of space, seeming to know that his co-worker needed it.

“I’m on my way to your brother’s wedding. Someone must tell everyone the bad news. Are you planning on going?” Shacklebolt asked. Percy knew what he was actually asking was whether Percy had come to terms with his family yet.

Percy’s throat went dry. How should he respond to this? He missed his brother and his family, especially now, but what little courage he had had at the tavern was now gone. How could he face his family after all the things he had said and done? After all the hurtful words he had used on his father or the pain he had caused his mother? He knew they wouldn’t take kindly to him being there. They would tolerate him for Bill’s sake and his mother would act as if he had never been away, but deep down he knew there would be resentment.

He hadn’t been there when his father had nearly been killed or when Bill had been attacked. He hadn’t been there when Harry had been moved and the strange disappearance of Mad-eye Moody. Nor had he been there when George had been wounded. None of this could he take back and none of this was something his heart could face at the moment. He was on the verge of breaking apart. Too many emotions already inundated him and he didn’t think he could handle facing his family as well.

“You go ahead, Kingsley. I’m going to stay and try to keep some order here. Tell my brother that I lo…” Percy stopped as Kingsley waited expectantly for what it was he knew Percy was about to say.

“Tell my brother congratulations for me,” Percy murmured. Before Kingsley could say another word, Percy turned from the Auror and strode away. It took all of his will power to make his legs move. His body shook from the sheer effort it took to keep himself together.

He heard Kingsley turn and leave as well. Percy never turned around, unable to bear seeing Kingsley‘s disappointment. He walked straight to his office, which he shared with several other wizards.

When Percy got there, he quickly strode in, and looked about him for his co-workers. Thankfully, no one was there at the moment. Percy quickly shut the door behind him and sealed it from any sudden intrusion. He then collapsed into a nearby chair and let his tears stream down his face.

The next couple of days were a nightmare and a blur. Everything was in turmoil inside and out of the Ministry. Pius Thickness with Dolores at his side was quick to set up the Muggle-born Registration Commission. Their goal was to search out how Muggle-born’s got their magic. Percy had always been a big supporter of Ministry rules and actions, but this was too much for him to bear.

But he, as well as the rest of the people at the Ministry knew better than to say anything. Some supported the new actions, showing their true colors and allegiances, but everyone else were confused and afraid. Everybody had heard the rumors about what happened when people spoke out. They tended to disappear. Like Charity Burbage. No one had heard from her for weeks now and, although it was officially stated that she had disappeared, everyone knew she would never come back. Disappearing was not the only thing that could happen to you.

For Percy, the worst that could happen to a person was that his family could become a target for persecution and the Weasley family had come to that point. Everyone knew that his family was connected to Harry. Everyone knew that they had long been supporters for Muggle-borns and everyone had heard the rumors about his father and his strange fascination with everything Muggle. And everyone had heard by now what had happened at Bill’s wedding.

The first couple of days after the attack, Percy had been enraged and terrified when he had heard what had taken place at his brother’s wedding. He was angry that Bill’s wedding and the memory of it had been tarnished forever and that the Ministry may have had some part in it. He was terrified because his family could have been killed and he would have never been able to tell them how he really felt.

These feelings would have persisted if Kingsley had not been the one to keep Percy informed about what was going on with his family. They never knew, but Percy kept careful tabs on what was going on. He had heard that his brother was sick with Spattergoit and was confined to his bed. He had learned that Ginny had gone back to Hogwarts alone.

It was strange that neither Harry or Hermione had gone back, but seeing the state of things, he couldn’t really blame them. The Ministry was after Harry with every resource they had at their fingertips and Percy couldn’t help but wonder if there was an ulterior motive for his capture, other than the need to question him over Dumbledore’s death. Percy still didn’t really know how he felt about the news that Harry may have been involved in his former Headmaster’s death. He had mixed feelings. A part of him couldn’t even begin to believe in such a horrid idea, but a small part of him couldn’t reconcile with the evidence that Harry had been seen running from the scene of the crime. And if he were innocent, why wouldn’t he just turn himself in?

Percy found that his feelings on this issue had become two riled snakes inside him, battling each other for dominancy. And it wasn’t just Harry they were fighting over. It was everything. It was the Ministry and their new Minister. It was his family. It was about the new people that kept showing up at the Ministry, people who had never been heard of before, but who had some power and influence at the Ministry, people like Albert Runcorn and Augustus Yaxley.

Percy was in a difficult position. He found that he could no longer straddle the line he had been teetering over for the past few years without ever knowing it. Should he side with the Ministry and back every one of their actions or should he trust his own instincts that told him that the Ministry had been corrupted? This feeling of discontent and transitory state he had found himself in grew stronger as the days turned into weeks.

Rumors began to sprout around him like the heads of Hydra. There was an unconfirmed report about another mass breakout at Azkaban. There had been sightings of Harry everywhere, some as far north as Scotland. And with each new rumor, with each new horror story, the tension at the Ministry began to grow as well as the fear.

Muggle-borns were being rounded up by the dozens, being brought to the Ministry to be questioned by Dolores on how they had come by their magic. She had come to the conclusion that magic could only come from witches and wizards, which suggested that Muggle-borns had come by it by stealing it from another.

He knew all too well that Muggle-borns had not stolen any magic; he remembered his old girlfriend Penelope and the wonders she could do with her wand. To now say that everything she had done, that all Muggle-borns could do, was a lie was hard for him to stomach or stand. But everyone was too terrified to speak up or to really know what to do. And so the Muggle-borns were led in here to be thoroughly questioned with Dementors nearby about their ability. It made Percy’s stomach twist in anger and helplessness. He didn’t know what to do.

What was worse was that it had come to his attention recently that the scrutiny his family was under had intensified. One wrong move and they could all be put into Azkaban or their jobs could be stolen from them like what happened to Dirk Cresswell or worse.

Percy was there the day that Dirk had fled the Ministry. He had been fingered as a Muggle-born and that was all the accusation that was needed. Dirk had lost everything, fleeing with only his life. Percy knew it was a warning to others. Not even people at the Ministry were safe. Dirk’s story had spread like a wildfire throughout the Ministry. People were afraid to speak up, their words only whispers now.

Everyday that Percy came to work, he could feel a heavy burden settle on his shoulders as if the entire might of the Ministry was bearing down on him. Everywhere he walked, he walked in tension. He couldn’t laugh as he had once done, couldn’t complain about frivolous reports or chat about the simple things. The world had darkened, taking with it the simple joys with it.

Percy was there when they had erected the Ministry of Might statue, a grotesque piece that showed a witch and wizard sitting on throne being carried by Muggles. Every time he passed the statue, he thought of his father and his family. Percy passed Arthur at least once a day in the halls or met him in the elevator. And every time he did, words he wanted to say to his father would well up into his throat. They would be just on the verge of escaping his lips, until Percy looked into his father’s eyes and saw disappointment and anger. And all of Percy’s strength and resolve would melt away. He didn’t know how his father did it, but Arthur Weasley still had the power to instill a sense of shame in his son.

There was one day in particular that Percy remembered the most. He remembered it because it was the day that Harry, disguised as a Ministry worker, along with two accomplices, had gotten in here and had freed a large group of Muggle-borns including the wife of one of the Ministry workers. Percy had met his father as well as Albert Runcorn, the man who had run Dirk Cresswell’s career into the ground, on the elevator. Percy had been too distracted by his shame and embarrassment of being in such close quarters with his father that he hadn’t realized until later that Runcorn had been looking at him as if he knew him. Percy should have realized that something was amiss because Albert Runcorn had never paid any attention to him before and at that moment, Percy could have sworn he saw the same look that his father had whenever he looked at Percy.

It was only afterwards when news of Runcorn’s impersonation and the escape of a one Harry Potter with two accomplices had spread throughout the Ministry, did Percy put the odd occurrence together. Percy had never told anyone, but he was secretly proud of Harry and whom he assumed must have been Hermione and Ron with him. They had done what no one had ever thought possible of a teenage witch and wizards: they had broken into the Ministry of Magic and had lived to tell the tale.

It was at that moment that a small spark had been lit in Percy. He suddenly felt that much more alive in a place that was wrapped in gray doubt. There was still hope because there were people out there who would not just allow injustice to stand. They did something about it. Percy had thought that this spark of courage would eventually dwindle, being replaced by his usual self doubt and demanding rational, but as the weeks turned into months and the months drifted into seasons, that spark didn’t diminish, but grew in him.

Percy had never thought that it was possible. He had never seen himself as being brave or bold. He had been convinced throughout all of his Hogwarts’ career that the Sorting Hat had misplaced him. He had always believed he should have been in Ravenclaw, but with each passing month and with this growing need to take action, to break free from the darkness that had put so much fear in their lives, Percy began to believe that maybe the Sorting Hat had known him better than he had ever known himself. It had known that somewhere in him there was latent fire waiting to be lit, which would make him brave and strong.

Percy found that he began to feel a sort of discontent with the system around him. The more he heard about how people were sacrificing their lives to stop evil, the more that feeling broiled inside him. He had heard the news that Harry, Hermione and his own little brother had broken into a high security vault at Gringotts and had gotten away. The old part of him would have been appalled by the news, and a small portion still was. He couldn’t fathom what they would need from that vault. Another part of him felt a heady sort of pride that he was surprised he would feel. He knew that Harry wouldn’t have risked his and his friends’ lives for a small portion of gold. There must have been something vitally important in that vault and whatever it was, Harry had gotten it. And to think that his own baby brother had helped was what made Percy’s heart thud with his pride.

These strange feelings were scary, but exciting. They were changing him. Percy could barely understand the man he was becoming, the man that he was having a harder time hiding from the rising powers within the Ministry. Dolores Umbridge was becoming suspicious of everyone and was particularly watching the Weasleys, all of them. Percy had had a tail on him a few times coming to and from work. He always minded his P’s and Q’s when his followers were around, but inside, his rage and discontent grew.

Percy began to notice what he had been blind to before. He began to notice the skewed opinions and how cooperation was being enforced with fear. The more he saw of how the Ministry was trying to control people, the more he could not stomach it. He began to get bolder, taking notes of all the people who had been killed or had “gone missing”, which Percy began to equate to death. The list was growing and the Ministry was letting it all slip by. Families were being torn about by this new Muggle-born Registration Act. Young Muggle-born children were being taken away before they could ever see Hogwarts. His need to do something was growing.

As spring slowly morphed into the summer, Percy was ready for a change and was looking for his chance to prove himself. His breaking point had come at the beginning of spring, when he had witnessed a family being torn apart because the mother was a Muggle-born. What had gotten to him about this family was that they reminded him so much about his family. They had two small boys and Percy couldn’t help, but think of his brother Ron.

He had left the Ministry that day feeling angry, impotent and with a keen ache of wanting to see his family again. It had been too long since he had even heard news from Kingsley about them. The Order of the Phoenix had essentially left the Ministry, some going into hiding and others into the fight. Kingsley had fled during the winter, but for one reason or another, he still kept in contact with him, still relaying news on his family.

This surprised Percy greatly because he had been sure that everyone in the Order had thought him as the enemy. That was how most people that had anything to do with the Order saw him. To them, he was a traitor, the one Weasley that had broken his family’s heart so that he could advance himself. Percy couldn’t really blame them for this. He felt the same sort of shame in himself.

To have Shacklebolt in contact with him at all, had been quite a relief and shock to Percy. They could not meet at the Ministry, with the growing hatred for the Order, but they did manage to meet outside of work and swap information. At first, Kingsley was wary, only telling Percy vague information about the Order. Every once in awhile, Kingsley would let slip an important fact or two, information about the whereabouts of some of the Order members that would have been highly valued by the Ministry.

Not once did one syllable of what Kingsley had told Percy in their secret meetings ever got back to the Ministry. It was only years later that Percy was to learn that Kingsley had been feeding false information to him. He had been testing Percy’s loyalty and sorting out which side of the line Percy really fell on. Kingsley had always thought that there was something more to Percy that people ever saw and in this instance he had been right.

As for Percy, he had begun to see Kingsley as a friend. Never before had he really had a friend before. He had had plenty of acquaintances and almost friends, but never someone whom he would trust his life with. The only people he had ever trusted like that had been his family and he had thrown them away. He had learned that very few people at the Ministry could be trusted at the moment.

A good friend was starting to become hard to come by. More and more people were disappearing or being killed outright. Distrust and suspicion was everywhere. Whispers of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had resurfaced, the fear and certainty that he was back was becoming more and more apparent with each passing day. This idea had been growing since Rufus Scrimeour’s death, but by summer, the rumor had become a believable truth.

Some people persisted in wanting to live in a world of ignorance, refusing to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back. Percy had been like them at one time, a man so easily blinded by the beliefs of others, a man who had followed the rules to whatever end they led him. He had been a person who had preferred to lie to the truth, but now, he knew that some rules had to be broken or remade if those laws had turned against the people they were supposed to protect. He would not willingly follow the lie anymore. Percy was ready to take action and he got his opportunity one hot summer night.

As the summer heat began to pound the city, he had been staying late at night, trying to wade through the paperwork that Umbridge had piled on him. One night in the beginning of May, he had become fed up with his work and was instead playing with a small gadget Shacklebolt had given him from Fred and George’s joke shop.

Kingsley hadn’t known at the time just how precious that gift had been to Percy. To Percy, he felt a connection to the brothers he knew he would never redeem himself with. It was a ghost of a brotherly bond and nothing more than that, but Percy treasured it all the more. His brothers had planned and crafted this gadget. Their fingers had once touched it and Percy could almost hear their laughter. He even missed being teased by them.

Completely consumed by this toy, Percy was startled when a flash of light lit up his office, which was empty, and a Lynx stood before him. Percy sat up in his chair, ignoring the gadget for a moment. He immediately knew that it was Kingsley’s Patronus and that he only sent it anywhere when there was an emergency.

“Percy, Hogwarts is under attack! Harry is inside, along with the rest of your family. I am calling everyone who can fight!”

Percy quickly stood. He didn’t need to know more.

“I’m coming, Kingsley!” He said stoutly.

The lynx nodded and then disappeared, no doubt off to send the same message to someone else. Percy grabbed his wand that was on his desk in one hand. The toy was still in the other.

Percy raised the toy to his lips and whispered, “I’m coming and I won’t let you down this time!”

Percy gently placed the toy on his desk. He then quickly turned and raced out of the room, his wand steady in his hands and for the first time he felt like the lion he had always had inside him.