Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter
Characters:
Harry Potter
Genres:
Mystery
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Stats:
Published: 02/19/2004
Updated: 07/29/2007
Words: 410,658
Chapters: 40
Hits: 159,304

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Barb

Story Summary:
Aunt Marge's arrival causes Harry to flee to avoid performing accidental magic again. But when number four, Privet Drive is attacked, he becomes the chief suspect and a fugitive from both the Muggle police and the Ministry. He tries going to Mrs Figg's but finds unfamiliar wizards there. With an Invisibility Cloak and nowhere to turn he hides in the house next door, to keep watch on Mrs Figg's. He has no idea that this will irrevocably alter the rest of his life....
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Chapter 15 - Discovery

Chapter Summary:
Percy and Umbridge square off and Percy recalls how he came to work for Fudge--and Dumbledore. Tilda and Harry leave Brighton for Surrey, where the Order is waiting to escort him safely to London. Voldemort, however, doesn't plan to let that happen....
Posted:
08/27/2004
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5,141

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~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Fifteen

Discovery


Unexpectedly, Umbridge lifted her wand, breaking the spell. She surveyed Percy critically.

"I thought I'd lost you there for a minute," she said in that annoyingly sweet, high-pitched voice, a slow smile spreading across her toad-like visage. "What a great loss that would have been to the Ministry," she added insincerely.

Percy attempted to swallow but his throat felt like a desert. As the pain of the Cruciatus Curse had continued he had realised at one point that an eerie silence had taken over the room; he didn't realise why until he tried to scream again from the pain and found that he could no longer produce sound with his throat. He'd screamed himself hoarse. That was likely why she thought she'd tortured him into madness; he could no longer scream.

Percy had been standing when she'd cast the spell but now he lay sprawled upon the floor, his desk chair pushed to one side. The back of his head ached where it had struck the chair on his way down, but that was a welcome, normal sort of pain after the curse.

He still held his wand, though.

He tried to clear his throat, coughing and hacking for almost a full minute before he finally managed to croak, "I don't know what you think you're doing," in a barely audible voice, as he stood slowly on shaky legs, "but I shall have you up on charges for that." He knew he didn't sound very convincing, even to himself, and her unwavering smile told him that she did not think of him as a threat. Her expression changed abruptly, however, when he quickly pointed his wand at her and managed to cry softly, "Expelliarmus!"

She flew backwards only a couple of feet, striking the door of his office with a soft thump, her wand flying into the air in a graceful arc before landing in Percy's left hand. He quickly opened the top drawer of his desk and thrust her wand deep into its recesses, closing it immediately. The noise of the slammed drawer echoed in the small anteroom.

"Now, then," Percy whispered, pointing his wand at her, then at one of the chairs on the far side of his desk. It was extremely painful even to whisper, but he had to ignore this and soldier on. "Sit. It is you who shall do the talking now. First you shall explain some things you have said. I was not in fact using the fire to speak to anyone. To whom did you think I might be speaking?"

She started to get up and he flicked his wand at her; strong ropes immediately bound her to the chair and she struggled against them for a minute before giving up and glaring at him. "You know very well who I meant. Your true Master."

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. "And just who would that be?" he said, his voice breaking as though he was thirteen again.

"Don't you know?" she said in an annoying, high-pitched sing-song, smirking as he broke into a rasping, painful cough again.

"I want to hear you say it!" he snarled at her before resuming his coughing fit. She looked entirely too happy about the difficulty he was having speaking.

With a sneer on her ugly face she said, "You'll have to torture me to get me to say anything else." She had laughter in her small, beady eyes, clearly confident that he would never do this, and Percy felt like putting his hands around her nonexistent neck and squeezing, just to prove her wrong.

He stepped back from her and nodded. "Very well. Interrogation isn't my forte, anyway," he whispered, as though it didn't matter to him. "That will be someone else's concern, after you're brought up on charges." He shuddered at the memory of his own interrogation, a year earlier, before he'd taken the job with the Minister.

It had been a nightmare. Evidently Madam Bones had happened by his office while he'd been out to lunch one day and she'd seen one of the letters Mr Crouch had sent him concerning carrying out his duties in his department head's absence. Both the content and form of the letter seemed to concern her; she had been used to correspond regularly with Barty Crouch, she said, and she both knew his style of writing and style of handwriting, and this letter reflected neither. When she'd confronted Percy about it he said that he had assumed the change in handwriting was due to Mr Crouch's illness, but she'd given him a very sceptical look before leaving his office.

And then Mr Crouch--raving mad Mr Crouch--had turned up at Hogwarts before disappearing off the face of the earth.

And the interrogations had begun.

Every day he'd been answering tricky questions much of the day and was still expected to get his work (and consequently, Mr Crouch's work) done in the midst of the inquiry. He had been at the office every night until past midnight, returning home only to fall into bed for about five hours before rising and returning to the Ministry. He stopped Apparating to work, as he was afraid that he was so tired he'd splinch himself. Instead he'd used the kitchen fire at the Burrow to travel by Floo to one of the many fireplaces in the atrium.

He could tell that his mother was worried about him, and even Bill, who had taken a holiday from his job, had asked him whether he thought he was perhaps pushing himself too hard. He'd finally cracked and told his brother about being hauled in for questioning. Bill wasn't much help.

Like Madam Bones, he'd also looked sceptical when Percy had said with a shaking voice, "Of course the letters were coming from Mr Crouch!" They had to be, they just had to be, else he'd had the most appalling and unforgivable lapse in judgment....

"Well, maybe, Perce, but did you ever think, well, that maybe they weren't? I mean, you told me he was having you do some very queer things, and that he wouldn't even let you visit him at his house...."

"That's because he had to sack his house elf!" Percy had said quickly, defending Mr Crouch to the last. "He said he was ashamed of the state of affairs around the house, that he'd always been rubbish with cleaning spells. He was embarrassed."

After not actually seeing Mr Crouch for so long Percy had been shocked when word had come that he'd been seen at Hogwarts, of all places. At first Percy thought Mr Crouch had felt able to attend to his duties as a Tournament judge again, but then he heard the report of Crouch's madness and he didn't know what to believe anymore. And on the morning of the Third Task, when he'd been questioning Percy yet again, the Minister had informed Percy that he would not be permitted to serve as the fifth Tournament judge again that evening; Fudge himself was going to perform that duty.

He had finally had to come to the conclusion that he had been in the wrong, that someone was impersonating Mr Crouch, who had evidently fled his captor to go to Hogwarts. During that morning's questioning Percy had learned that investigators had found a number of very strange potions ingredients in the Crouch home and a strange cabbage-smelling concoction being brewed in the scullery.

The really queer thing, though, was that the Crouch family owl seemed to have disappeared utterly. The Aurors who'd gone to the Crouch home said there was also evidence of a snake being kept there, although Mr Crouch was not known to be a snake-lover (they'd found an enormous sloughed skin); in the nest where the snake evidently ate and slept there were owl feathers.

Which begged the question: How were the impostor's letters being sent to Percy if the Crouch owl was dead? Percy couldn't remember for how long he'd been receiving the letters by an owl other than Mr Crouch's. It was always the same owl, though, a very distinctive all-black one. Percy had rarely seen its like; it was quite handsome and he had simply assumed that Mr Crouch had replaced his rather old owl with a new one. He was an important Ministry official, after all, and had to keep up appearances.

Percy kept one eye on Umbridge as he pulled his hair, which he'd grown long since leaving home, into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He went to the fire; throwing Floo powder on the flames; he knelt and thrust his head into the green fire, saying as clearly as his sore throat would allow, "Cornelius Fudge's house."

He felt his head whirling dizzily through the Floo network before arriving at last in the firebox in the Minister's living room. No one was there, however. He called out in a croaky voice, "Hello? Minister? Mr Fudge? Hello? Are you about?" He had no hope, however, that his almost-nonexistent voice could be heard in other rooms. No one seemed to be in earshot of the living room, not even a house elf.

Then he felt a breeze on his back and before he could process everything fully, he was struck by what was unmistakably the same chair in which Umbridge had been sitting. She was still sitting in it. Percy grunted in pain as the wooden chair with at least twelve stone of angry witch in it fell onto his back. With all of the strength he could muster he pulled his head from the fire and then rose and flung her at the wall, which unfortunately caused the chair to splinter and break up, rendering the ropes binding her to it useless.

It was also unfortunate that he'd thrown her at the wall behind his desk, so that she was now closer to the drawer with her wand in it than he was. They stared at each other, then at the desk, and both rushed toward it at the same moment.

Umbridge got there first.

She quickly opened the drawer and thrust her hand in; when she pulled it out she was armed once more. He started backing toward the door to his office, waiting for her to do something, anything. She continued to point the wand at him with a shaking hand, her hair askew and the tiny black bow that usually rode on top of her head clinging to some strands around her left ear.

Finally, as Percy put his hand on the doorknob, she pointed the wand at him and again cried, "Crucio!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tilda and Harry stood by the rail bordering the pier, looking out at the moonlit sea. Harry was grinning.

"That was the most fun I've ever had while not actually flying. Or watching other people fly," he added, remembering the Quidditch World Cup. "Although you Muggles can come pretty close sometimes. That one ride...." He stopped when he saw her face.

"We should be going soon," she said softly, looking out sadly at the ocean.

He didn't respond at first, looking away from her. Then, abruptly, he said, "Why did you kiss me again? You said you wouldn't."

He turned to look at her again; he saw her swallow for a moment, still looking at the sea. She shrugged. "It wasn't as though I felt there was a danger of it escalating here, in public. And no one knows us here."

"Marvin and Brian do. They could have seen us. If they'd been in the right place at the right time."

She turned to look at him. "I reckon--I reckon it's harder than I thought to just--to just not want to--to do certain things with someone I love when he's right here with me and--" She bit her lip, unable to continue. Looking away from him again, she said, "It's not as though I'm proud of myself."

He put his hand over hers on the rail but she stiffened and pulled hers away, evidently doing a better job of controlling herself now. But after a moment she relented and put her hand over his instead, followed by her leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"It's just for a few minutes," she said dreamily. "It's nothing and no one can blame us for just--this much."

He put his arm around her shoulder and leaned his cheek on her hair, nodding. "Yes. No one can blame us," he whispered, closing his own eyes and savouring her warmth and nearness.

Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed when she pulled away and wiped some tears from her cheeks that he hadn't known she'd shed. Looking up at him she whispered, "I'm sorry, Harry. So sorry. If you only knew...."

He nodded, resigned. "It's okay. It's getting late; we should probably go," he said, echoing her earlier sentiment.

"Do you--do you promise to forgive me? Some day?"

The way she's looking at me you'd think she'd murdered someone. "Yeah, of course. When I can fit into all of my trousers properly again."

She dropped her jaw and hit his arm. "Harry! I didn't know you could be so bad!"

He grinned at her. "That's because you decided that we couldn't, erm, you know..."

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh, really? Would that be real badness then, or are you only a legend in your own mind?"

He gave her a half smile, saying, "Well, actually--that second thing. I probably would have been rubbish anyway, since I don't know a thing..."

She laughed. "I thought that's why you wanted to be with an experienced older woman--?"

He swallowed, unable to take his eyes from her face and the way it was limned by the moonlight. "No. That was because I fell in love with her." She froze, unprepared for his sudden seriousness. Harry felt like his heart had stopped; he couldn't bear the way she was looking at him. Sad and loving at the same time. He forced his face into a false grin. "But it's your loss. You'll never know how bad I can be now..."

She nodded, still solemn. "Yeah," she agreed softly. "My loss."

When she reached for his hand he let her take it and lead him from the pier and back to the car. They got in silently and after they'd closed their doors and he was starting to take his Cloak out Tilda surprised him by suddenly turning to him and sliding her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers. He let himself be led, feeling her tongue asking for admittance and slowly accepting it. He tried to quell his surprise, as she had not been this aggressive before, even though it was a very gentle aggression. When she pulled back and kissed both of his cheeks affectionately he watched her face. She was crying again.

Tilda turned from him and started the car as he put the Cloak on with shaking hands. "That really was the last time," she said softly.

Then she grasped the steering wheel with white knuckles and did not speak again until after they'd reached Greater Whinging.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Crucio!"

With a bang! the wand Umbridge was wielding suddenly became a limp haddock, complete with a three-day-old smell, and Percy felt like punching the air in triumph.

Thank you very much, Fred and George, he thought, grinning. Umbridge was staring in horror at the thing in her hand. "Accio fake wand!" Percy cried in a hoarse whisper; it flew across the room to him. He shook it out and with a crack! it appeared to be a wand again. He tossed it onto his desk, then pointed his wand at her and said softly, "Petrificus Totalus!"

She had still been flabbergasted at the wand turning out to be fake and stiffened all over, falling backward and lodging against the wall behind his desk at an awkward angle. He used a quick Reparo charm on the broken chair and levitated her body so that it was now leaning against the chair. He removed from his robe pocket a small vial protected inside another vial; he put only a few drops of the perfectly clear liquid in the corner of her mouth and returned the vials to his pocket. In two quick swishes of his wand he took the full-body bind off her and bound her to the chair again, followed by a quick spell that effectively glued the legs of the chair to the floor.

Pointing at his own throat, he said quietly, "Sonorus." He cleared his throat and looked down at her, saying, "Now then," in something close to a normal voice. "Let the interrogation begin."

He wasn't certain how soon the Veritaserum would take effect but he knew that the potion Dumbledore had given him was brewed by Snape and was the strongest in Britain. She glared up at him, her mouth clamped shut belligerently.

"How long have you been a Death Eater?" he demanded.

She swallowed, her eyes looking a little glazed-over now. She answered automatically, "I joined their glorious ranks not long before he mysteriously disappeared almost fifteen years ago, but the Ministry never found out and never charged me with anything, as I never did anything to warrant being charged. I had precious little chance to serve the Dark Lord before he was snatched away from us. And then I had no choice but to blend in with other Ministry officials as though I didn't care that the only hope of our world was gone." Despite her altered state she still spoke in the incongruously high-pitched voice.

"I have always supported the cause of the pureblooded, something a blood traitor like you could never understand," she continued. "Then Ludo was told by an old associate of his that it was possible to restore the Dark Lord to his former strength and power, but he would need help...."

"Ludo--Ludo Bagman?" Percy gasped. "When was this?"

"Two years ago. He never had any gold--always gambling--so I gave him some money to give to his friend to go to Albania and look for the Dark Lord. We didn't actually expect to find that he'd been successful, and Ludo was quite busy preparing for the Triwizard Tournament, but then he thought of sending Bertha Jorkins to Albania on holiday to see whether she could find out what had become of him. She thought it was all her idea, of course. Then Ludo contacted me to say that his friend was bringing the Dark Lord back here and Bertha was dead. She knew too much. That was why Ludo didn't do anything about looking for her for such a long time. I only knew his friend by an alias; I have since met him, as he helped to resurrect the Dark Lord, but I still do not know his true name."

"I do," Percy said, his voice growing louder and harder. He removed the spell from his throat and cleared it again, feeling like he no longer needed help to be heard. "His name is Peter Pettigrew."

"I know I've heard that name..." she mused, her voice soft and high.

"Since you have no choice but to speak the truth, I know you've heard it. Everyone thought him dead for twelve years. He was supposedly blown up by Sirius Black at the same time that Black killed a street full of Muggles. But he did neither of those things; Pettigrew faked his own death by cutting off a finger, blowing up the street to create confusion, and changing into a rat to make his getaway. He is an illegal Animagus, you see. You may know him by the name of Wormtail."

She looked unsurprised, due to the way the potion was affecting her. "Wormtail. Yes, that is what the Dark Lord calls him. That is this Peter Pettigrew?"

Percy would not look at her. "Yes. He betrayed Harry Potter's parents and led You-Know-Who to them." And then after he framed Sirius Black for it he hid out as a little boy's pet rat. He broke out into more coughing again. My pet rat, he thought. For years that traitor lived in my house, in my care. By the time he'd given him to Ron he'd had him for nine years, which was about three times longer than a common-or-garden rat should live. It had never occurred to him that this was the least bit unusual, even though it should have. And then he stupidly gave him to his brother, to Harry Potter's best friend….

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Percy remembered that summer, Ron coming home with a very small, twittery owl instead of Scabbers. And while Percy had known Scabbers would probably die one day, he hadn't been prepared for the reality of it. It wasn't as though his mother hadn't tried to prepare him. Every six months since Percy was nine years old, when the rat would occasionally sneeze or seem peaky, his mother would say to him, "Now, love, don't fret over him too much. Rats don't live very long, see. You need to prepare yourself--eventually."

He hadn't even wanted to give him up to Ron, but his mother had insisted on giving him Hermes for his prefect's gift at the beginning of his fifth year, which had floored him in its generosity. She had then reminded him that they couldn't also afford to get Ron a new pet, so Ron should have Scabbers. Scabbers was already familiar with him, after all. Percy hadn't even tried to argue that he deserved to have two pets and Ron none; it would have been ungenerous of him. He let Ron have the rat and pretended that he thought he was well shot of him, even though he missed him a great deal. An owl was useful, but Hermes just wasn't the same as the furry little companion he'd had since the age of six.

That was the first year that he was a prefect, the year that Ron was nearly killed by McGonagall's enchanted chess set and Harry was almost killed by Professor Quirrell, of all people. When he heard he didn't want to believe it. How could he not have noticed that their Defence against the Dark Arts professor was actually a dark wizard? And he hadn't kept an eye on his little brother or his brother's friends and prevented them from getting into trouble....

Then, even worse, the second year that he was a prefect, his own sister had been writing in an enchanted diary. He knew nothing of that when his world came crumbling down around him because of his girlfriend, Penelope, being Petrified by the mysterious beast that had been released from the Chamber of Secrets. And then Ginny had been taken into the Chamber and was assumed dead....

He'd locked himself in his dormitory, feeling unable to face his parents ever again, positive that they would blame him for failing Ginny. Ginny had come to him, too, tried to talk to him, but she'd done it by following him down to the dungeons, where he was meeting Penny, and it was far more important to him that she not tell anyone about that. He'd never even given her the chance to tell him what was bothering her, he'd been too caught up in his own concerns and making sure she didn't tell anyone about his rule-breaking. Percy Weasley wasn't supposed to break rules. Or at least he wasn't supposed to get caught. He'd felt deeply ashamed, worried about what his mother would say if she found out about the particular rule that he, a prefect, had broken. And after Ginny's being influenced by the diary had come to light he was certain that Dumbledore would take away his prefect badge, even without knowing about what he and Penny had been up to. He'd failed as a brother and as a prefect yet again.

But Dumbledore had instead made him Head Boy. When he'd received the letter, Percy had considered sending the badge back, telling the headmaster he had the wrong man for the job, that if he were Head Boy the castle would probably be a pile of rubble by June. But his mother had been reading the letter over his shoulder and started shrieking with glee, and he had to pretend to be pleased. His mother was proud of him, no longer giving him those looks he'd received after Ron had returned from his first two years of school and Ginny from her first. He wasn't a failure anymore; he was to be Head Boy, like Bill. He tried to sound confident about it and ended up getting nothing but grief from the twins. He envied them unspeakably; no one was relying on them for anything. If they came home from school without getting expelled they were exceeding their parents' wildest expectations. They hadn't even bothered to show up for some of their OWL exams and ended up with only three each. He'd practically killed himself to get twelve.

Like Bill.

And then, on his watch, Sirius Black got into the castle and tried to murder Ron.

He'd tried to keep his chin up that night, to patrol the castle with the staff and other prefects, to never show to Dumbledore how dreadful he felt. A murderous madman not only got into the castle but into Gryffindor Tower and into my brother's dormitory. He couldn't stop thinking about it. My fault, his brain kept screaming. All my fault. And even when it came to light that Neville Longbottom had written down all of the passwords, Percy remembered the brave way Neville had raised his hand and taken the blame from stern Professor McGonagall. Percy doubted that Neville had ever said, "Well, you see, Percy said perhaps I should make a list, since I kept forgetting..."

It was only because Dumbledore was owed a favour by the Minister for Magic that the Minister had suggested to Mr Crouch that Percy would do to fill the job opening in his department. Working in International Magical Co-operation wasn't Percy's dream job, but he threw himself into it whole-heartedly. Nothing was going to stop him from doing a good job this time. He would rise through the ranks at the Ministry with Hogwarts far behind him. He could stop having nightmares about everyone finding out what a fraud and a failure he was.

He would never have to see that look on his mother's face again. Never, ever again.

Or so he had thought.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You knew that You-Know-Who was back on the night of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, didn't you?"

Umbridge looked at him with a glassy stare. "Yes."

"Were you there? In the circle?"

"Yes. But he did not address me. I had never had the chance to really serve him when I was younger. But that was to change."

He was facing away from her, which made him focus on her voice. Something occurred to him; he closed his eyes so that he would have absolutely no distractions and said, "Repeat after me: Why are you defending Muggles, you blood traitor?"

There was silence.

"Say it!"

"I need only say the truth," she said, sounding slightly more alert. He wondered whether the potion was wearing off. "You cannot make me do anything else."

He pointed his wand in her direction, still with his eyes closed. "Do you want to see how good my aim is with a Reductor Curse when my eyes are closed? I can aim for the desk but if I'm a bit off I could end up hitting--something else..."

"Why are you defending Muggles, you blood-traitor," she said quickly, not inflecting it like a question.

It was enough. Percy opened his eyes and turned to her. "It was you?"

"Yes." She understood the question completely and answered truthfully.

"You were the one who cursed my brothers and then me during the riot at the World Cup. You cut Bill's arm and tried to hurt Charlie, too. And you sent that rock flying at me. Gave me a bloody nose." He winced at the memory. "Why?"

"I was trying for your father, but when I saw the chance to get three Weasleys I went for it..." She looked like she hadn't meant to say this, clamping her mouth shut afterward. Is she somehow fighting the potion? he wondered.

"You were wearing a mask but I remember that voice," he hissed at her. "The mask muffled it but that wasn't enough. You were one of them and Lucius Malfoy was your ringleader."

"Lucius Malfoy was at the World Cup at the Minister's invitation, because of his recent very generous contribution to St Mungo's," she said, sounding like a Ministry of Magic press release.

"Which you knew would get him into the Minister's good graces. You told Malfoy to do it."

"Yes."

"You'd been coaching him on how to please the Minister for years."

"Yes."

"You vouched for him repeatedly, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You haven't even needed to put the Imperius Curse on the Minister because he listens to everything you say anyway, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

He had never wanted so much in his life to commit murder. "And my father? Who is well-known as a Muggle-lover? You spread stories that made him sound like a flaming crackpot, didn't you?"

"I was hardly the only one."

He ignored her response. "Kept him from getting promoted or from getting rises in salary, eh? Not a single bloody rise for eight years!" he growled at her, collapsing against his desk in a coughing fit. She looked up at him with a triumphant gleam in her eye. The potion had worn off; he was sure of it. But it did not seem necessary now; she was taking delight in telling him these things, glorying in what she had done. She was bragging.

"I am quite proud to say yes to all of those charges," she said, her high voice lilting with glee. "And as long as you're asking me so many questions, would you mind if I ask you one?"

He tried to keep his breathing steady, tried to maintain his equilibrium. I must not fail, I must not fail...

"What?" he finally responded, trying to keep a shake out of his voice.

"Just when, pray tell, did you become Dumbledore's lap dog?"

"Ah, Mr Weasley. Working hard, I see."

Percy stared at the head of Albus Dumbledore in the green flames. He nodded dumbly at first, too tired for niceties, then remembered himself and said, "How are you this evening, Professor?" with an audible strain in his voice. "Is the Tournament over already?"

Dumbledore sighed, not answering the question about the Triwizard Tournament. "I've been better. I do hope I can impose upon you to meet with me. I cannot talk here for very long; the Ministry are not monitoring the Floo network yet, but I expect that they will be very shortly, especially in offices where Weasley-friendly employees are working."

Percy frowned; even though he was rather sleep-deprived from working late after being interrogated all day he did not think Dumbledore would make much more sense to him if he'd just awoken from a good eight hours. "I don't understand, sir."

"I have a very important job for you, Percy," he said, his face very grave. "A very dangerous job. And you are the only person I can ask to do it. Please meet me in an hour's time in a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom will tell you which one. We can talk more then."

"I'm no one's lap dog," he whispered angrily.

She laughed in a highly annoying titter. "Oh, but you play the role so well. You really bit into the character of lackey-to-the-Minister. I do believe Cornelius probably still believes you are on the outs with your family."

Percy shook with nerves, hoping it wasn't visible to Umbridge. She knows everything, he thought in a panic. Absolutely everything. What was he going to do?

Percy sat back in the armchair by the fire in the private room at the Leaky Cauldron where Dumbledore had asked to meet him. His brain felt full after hearing of everything Harry had told Dumbledore about You-Know-Who returning, plus the confession of Barty Crouch, Jr. It just didn't seem possible. Mr Crouch's son, who had not died in Azkaban, had killed his father and then had his soul sucked out by a Dementor because of Fudge. You-Know-Who was back. Harry had duelled with him and returned to Hogwarts with Cedric Diggory's body.

And then Dumbledore explained to him what the Order of the Phoenix was, and that his oldest brother and parents would be working for him as members of the Order. Percy immediately sat up in his chair, eager.

"And you want me to be a member of the Order too, sir? Of course! Of course I'll do anythin--" He faltered suddenly, sinking back into his chair again while Dumbledore frowned at him from his chair on the opposite side of the fire.

"What is wrong, Percy?"

He frowned, looking into the flames, thinking of his many failures in the previous year, plus the years before that. "It's just--yeah, I'm willing. But I've always been willing, and where has it got me? If I'd spoken up about Mr Crouch maybe You-Know-Who wouldn't be back. While I was Head Boy Sirius Black got into the castle and nearly killed my brother..."

Dumbledore smiled kindly at him. "We all make mistakes, Percy. I myself was entirely fooled by young Mr Crouch until this very evening. For months I had no reason to believe that the real Alastor Moody was not teaching at Hogwarts. As for Sirius Black getting into the castle...well, that may not be as great a problem as you'd think."

And then the truly shocking revelations: Sirius Black was innocent, he'd been framed by Peter Pettigrew, the true traitor, who wasn't dead, and who had helped Mr Crouch's son bring back You-Know-Who. He told Percy that he had in fact known Peter for years as his pet rat, Scabbers. Percy could hardly take it all in.

"When Ron didn't bring him home I--I thought he had died! And--and Sirius Black is Harry's godfather?" he breathed, incredulous.

"Yes. And another member of the Order of the Phoenix. He's gone to contact all of our old friends to let them know that their services will once again be needed. But we cannot do this with the old members of the Order alone. We shall need some youthful energy. In some very particular places. That is where you come in, Percy."

Percy shook his head again. "I don't know. Don't get me wrong--I believe you and want to help, but I have this horrid feeling that I'd just bollix up everything again.... You want Bill, not me. Bill never makes mistakes. Bill's ruddy perfect," he said, an unmistakable edge to his voice as he rose and rested his brow on the mantelpiece, feeling the flames' heat on his face.

He glanced briefly at Dumbledore, who looked very shrewdly at him, his eyes twinkling over the tops of his half-moon spectacles before Percy turned to the fire again. "I will not bore you with more stories of the many mistakes I have made in my life, Percy, but believe, me, I have made them. And also believe me when I say that I have a job for you that absolutely no one else can fill. But it will require some sacrifice on your part."

Percy looked at him again, swallowing. Perhaps if he did this well he could finally stop feeling like such an utter failure. Perhaps he could hold his head up again, or even get Penelope back. They'd had a row in February, just before he'd gone up to Hogwarts to be one of the judges for the Second Task. She'd tried to talk sense into him, she had. Something was definitely wrong with Mr Crouch, she'd said. He should tell someone at the Ministry about it, she said.

But he hadn't done that. And Penny had told him that when he decided that he wanted to spend more time with her than at his job to let her know. She didn't understand. She didn't know what it was to feel like the entire world would find out the truth at any moment, that Percy Ignatius Weasley was the worst sort of poser and fraud. He felt like he had to run constantly just to stay in one place when it came to his job. And it still wasn't enough.

But thinking about the Second Task of the Tournament reminded him of something else. "I'm willing to make sacrifices, but not to sacrifice my family," he told Dumbledore, remembering the cold of the lake when he'd gone to haul Ron back to the shore. When Dumbledore had briefed all of the judges on the task and told them the identities of each champion's hostage Percy's stomach had dropped into his shoes.

Ron.

Ron was in the lake and Harry had to get him out. Under the circumstances he felt that he had every right to bark at Harry when he showed up at the lakeside only moments before the Task was to begin. That was his brother down there! The hardest thing he'd ever had to do was to sit and pretend to be calm for an hour while waiting for the champions to return with the hostages. First Cedric had emerged from the lake with Cho, then Viktor with Hermione. The waiting was interminable. Finally, the French girl emerged back on the far side of the lake, crying for help. She'd been unable to get to her sister and didn't know what to do now. And still Harry had not returned with Ron.

When he finally appeared with both Ron and the little blonde girl Percy had been unable to contain himself any longer, sloshing into the water, mindless of dignity, of decorum. No one understood that more than anything else he was angry with himself. It was he who had suggested, when Mr Crouch and Ludo Bagman were planning the Tournament, that the champions should go into the lake to retrieve hostages.

It had been all his idea.

He had never dreamed, at the time, that it would be his own brother in the lake and his best friend required to get him. Percy had also suggested the age restriction, which he had thought would protect his brothers and sister from attempting to do anything foolhardy. But it hadn't worked; a dead man had thwarted them all.

"Can I just ask one more thing?" he said to Dumbledore

"Of course," he said, nodding.

"Why me?"

"Yes, Weasley, you fooled Cornelius completely. And you fooled me at first, I must admit. You were very convincing, after all. The problem with Cornelius is that when you tell him exactly what he wants to hear he doesn't question it. Or it is the beauty of Cornelius, depending on how you look at it. And you managed to tell him absolutely everything he wanted to hear. It was quite perfect. Too perfect. I should have seen through it from the start," she said, glaring at him.

"Ah, Minister, so sorry that you're seeing my office in such disarray," Percy said hastily, waving his wand to create neat piles of curling parchment. "The owls just won't stop coming. I've tried responding to them, too, but it's getting rather tiresome to keep writing out, 'No, of course You-Know-Who isn't back, your child is safe at Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory was killed in a magical accident, which is a danger in such a tournament, although we were trying to minimise the danger this time around, blah blah blah.'" He sighed. "Of course, I don't know any such thing, but one has to go through the motions. I should just make two hundred or so copies of the letter I've been writing and have done with it, send it to every family with a child at Hogwarts..."

Fudge raised his eyebrows at Percy. "What don't you know?"

"That the students are safe at Hogwarts. I mean, look who's running the place! Dumbledore actually seems to believe that You-Know-Who is back! I mean, when I was Head Boy I always used to think of him as eccentric, but this..."

As Percy shook his head he noticed that Fudge had brightened considerably. "Really? You think he's--dangerous?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Minister. I know he's your friend. No, of course not, I never meant to imply--"

Fudge beamed at him, patting his shoulder with an avuncular bonhomie he'd never shown toward Percy previously. "Don't worry about it, lad. You can speak perfectly freely to me. My lips are sealed. What did you really want to say--?"

"Well, I mean--just look at what happened last year! Sirius Black got into the castle. Did you know he nearly killed my youngest brother? Poor Ron woke up and there was this madman, standing over him with a knife! I ask you! And the year before that the school nearly had to be shut down. My sister and brother could have been killed and my very own girlfriend was Petrified," he added, to make it more personal.

Fudge nodded. "So you know."

Percy looked at him with his lips drawn into a straight line. "I don't want to speak ill of Dumbledore, I really don't, but I think it's just possible that he's lost touch, sir. And on top of everything else that happened last year, it turned out that we were being taught by a werewolf!" He quivered with indignation. "If I'd known that I'd have led a walk-out by the students!"

Fudge nodded, commiserating. "Yes, yes, it can be very disillusioning to find that someone in whom you placed your trust has feet of clay. But it is part of growing up..."

Percy snorted. "Tell that to my dad. He believes Dumbledore! I asked him what proof there is that You-Know-Who is back and he said that Harry said he saw him. As though that settles it! I mean, right, no one knows why You-Know-Who couldn't kill him when he was a baby, but lately I think Harry's gone a bit off too, you know? Goes on about his scar hurting him, faints all over the place. He almost missed the Second Task of the Tournament! And did you know he's--" He lowered his voice. "He's a Parselmouth?"

Fudge nodded conspiratorially. "So I've heard. Hm. So you're saying that you and your father aren't seeing eye to eye?"

Percy shook his head miserably. "No, and I never realised before how difficult it is to live in that house if you don't agree with every word that comes out of my dad's mouth. And here I always thought it was my mum who shouldn't be crossed. Not that she disagrees with Dad on this." He sighed again. "I'd move out but I'm not really making enough to afford a flat and I'm probably going to lose my job here anyway as soon as they get someone to replace Mr Crouch. The new bloke will probably want to hand-pick his own assistant." He gave Fudge a horrified look. "Oh, great Merlin! That's why you're here. That's why you came. To give me the sack."

"No, no, Percy, I didn't mean to alarm you," Fudge said quickly, reassuring him. "I was just, erm, making the rounds of the various departments to ascertain that others, like you, understand that the Ministry is firmly convinced that Diggory's death was an accident, that You-Know-Who is not back and that everything is business as usual," he said briskly, clapping his hands together.

Percy let out a relieved breath. "Oh, thank goodness. I mean, I really should have noticed that something was wrong with Mr Crouch, just like you said, and I thought for sure I was getting the sack. But in my defence," he said quickly, "I was just--just being loyal to my head of department. It didn't seem right for me, of all people, to question Mr Crouch's competence. I've always looked up to him. He speaks so many languages, and he's always been unswervingly loyal to the Ministry. He even put his own son in prison when it was warranted."

Fudge nodded. "Yes, yes. You know, I may have been entirely too hard on you, Percy. You're quite right; you were just being loyal. That is hardly a failing. In fact, it is a quality that I highly prize in all of the people who work most closely with me."

Percy stared at him. "I'm--I'm not sure what you're saying, Minister," he said, his voice shaking. Fudge scrutinised him for a long minute.

"What I'm saying is this: How would you like to come work for me, Percy?"

Percy tried to look shocked, but underneath the façade he was thinking, It worked. He bought it.

I'm in.

"What tipped you off, other than my being too perfect?" He really did want to know; he had no hope of continuing to spy on the Minister, not unless he was prepared to kill Umbridge or torture her into insanity. Or--

Put a Memory Charm on her.

He considered this. It could work. She might forget that she ever suspected him. The problem was--with whom, if anyone, had she shared her suspicions? Had she written this down in a journal? What precautions had she taken against just such a contingency as this?

"What tipped me off? Well, it wasn't one thing by itself, to tell the truth." She laughed for a second. It was still a very annoying sound. "I did find the entirely obsequious way in which you always scraped and bowed to the Minister to be extremely annoying. But I think the first thing I noticed was that Dumbledore was at Potter's hearing."

Percy swallowed. "Yes? He was scheduled to be one of the witnesses..."

"For a hearing occurring much later in the day. I watched you send the owls to all of the members of the court. I dictated the original letter to you, saying that the time and venue for the hearing was being moved and that all of the participants had already been informed. Which they hadn't, of course, until ten minutes before the hearing when you sent the owls to your father and Dumbledore, informing them of the change. And yet Dumbledore still showed up," she snarled. "How, I wonder?" she said, switching to a sing-song. "How on earth did he know to come to the Ministry three hours earlier than he originally planned, when he said that he never got our owl?"

Percy looked her in the eye. He was tired of hiding, tired of pretending. He nodded. "Yes. I told him that morning. After the Minister informed me that the members of the court would have to be contacted I excused myself to go to the loo. Dumbledore probably got my message before any of the members of the court had been informed of the change." His voice was very hard and he fought to avoid going into another coughing fit. Then he smiled at her, but it wasn't a friendly smile. "You should have seen your face when he walked into the courtroom. Not that it was probably easy for Harry to see your face, sitting back in the shadows as you were. What was wrong--were you worried that Harry would recognise you from the graveyard where You-Know-Who was resurrected?"

She bristled. "I did worry about that at first," she said reluctantly. "Then I remembered that I'd been wearing a mask and needn't worry..."

"And of course the reason why we were there was that you had sent the Dementors after Harry. How convenient it is to be working for the Ministry and You-Know-Who at the same time, eh? You-Know-Who tells you that Harry is protected by an ancient magic and you work out the one thing that won't be affected by that protection: Dementors. And you just happen to have Dementors at your disposal..." He had to restrain himself from hexing her. He wondered whether Dumbledore would think it very distasteful to simply imprison her in one of the dungeons at Hogwarts... But again, he needed to find out who else knew about his being an agent for Dumbledore. Or whether she'd written this down anywhere.

"Who did you tell about this?"

"About you contacting Dumbledore to get him to the hearing? No one. I wasn't even certain that it was you at first. I worked my way through most of the court, dropping hints and asking probing questions before it all started to point to you, the most logical choice. And I didn't even know for certain that you hadn't had the best of intentions by telling Dumbledore to come early. Mind you, I had told you only to inform the members of the court, but still... Potter did not receive his notification until just before eight. You didn't go out of your way to contact him. I suspected you but did not feel I had anything--conclusive."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"What was that?" Ron's voice seemed to echo in the quiet drawing room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Until he had spoken only the turning of pages and the scratching of Hermione's quill in her notebook had broken the silence for the better part of an hour. They had been discussing Harry for a little while but couldn't bear to continue, not knowing what was happening in Little Whinging.

"What was what?" Hermione wanted to know.

From the front hall came the sound of the locks on the front door being secured one after the other. Ron threw down the Quidditch magazine he'd been reading. He'd had enough revision for one day.

"That. Don't you hear it?" He sat on the edge of his chair, poised to spring at the door.

Hermione also sat up now, her face glowing with excitement. The thick spellbook she'd been reading slipped forgotten to the floor as she dashed across the room, calling over her shoulder, "They're back! They've brought Harry back!"

Despite her head start Ron beat her to the door and flung it open, crying, "Harry!"

They stopped short, seeing immediately that the dingy front hall was utterly empty, lit only dimly by the flickering serpent-shaped gas lamps high on the walls. Although the hall was uninhabited it was not silent, however. Ron's shouting had not gone unnoticed by Mrs Black. "But--but--"

Hermione looked around, frowning, trying to ignore the various anti-Muggle-born epithets Mrs Black was screeching. "Are you sure you heard--?"

"Yes! The front door opened and closed again and then the locks were clicking--" Ron's face was turning quite red. Suddenly he stopped, having had a revelation, and he could tell as he looked at Hermione in horror that she had had the same thought.

"Maybe it wasn't someone coming in," Hermione whispered. "Maybe--maybe it was someone--"

"--someone going out," Ron said, nodding. He lunged at the handle to the front door, but it was magically locked again and he didn't know how to reverse it. Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

"Don't be rash. We should check the house first. Then if we think she's run off we'll tell someone. Kitchen first, I think."

Mrs Black's voice continued to echo through the entrance hall, setting off the other portraits, who were also screaming now and holding their hands over their painted ears. Ron ignored the racket as he turned and ran down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Ginny! Ginny!" As he passed Mrs Black she stopped shouting and the other portraits settled down as well. He parted the curtains briefly, saying to Sirius's mother, "What's the matter?" he asked her snidely. "Worried that I'll kiss you again?"

Ron left the portrait and started to open the door to the kitchen stairs when Ginny flung it open, her hair in a wild cloud around her head. "What? What is it? Is there some news?" she said quickly. Ron suddenly flung his arms around her, but Ginny shook him off impatiently. "What's the matter with you?" she grumbled.

Ron let her push him away. "It's just--we thought--"

Ginny looked at Hermione now. "We thought you'd left the house, Ginny. To--to go to Surrey," Hermione said quietly.

Pointing at her flushed and worried face, Ron said accusingly, "I knew you weren't really over Harry, Ginny. Dean Thomas! I ask you!" he said indignantly.

Ginny looked daggers at him. "Stop trying to throw Harry at me, Ron. I came running up here because I'm concerned about him as a friend. Not to mention I'm concerned about everyone in the Order who went, and Professor Dumbledore as well. And while you're at it, stop talking about Dean that way!"

"You were very anxious there for a second, asking for news of someone you think of as only a friend..." Ron said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully, ignoring what she'd said about the Order and Dumbledore. "Not to mention I think you would have gone to Surrey if you thought you could help."

Ginny crossed her arms and glared at him. "And just how stupid do you think I am, exactly? Not to mention--it would be like the Ministry of Magic all over again, wouldn't it? As it is the Order has Harry's safety to worry about. They don't need the likes of me running around Surrey attracting trouble. And how would I get there, anyway, without doing magic or risking being seen flying a broom?"

"The Knight Bus," Hermione and Ron said automatically, in unison; they both coloured immediately. Ginny didn't look so stern when she heard that.

"You thought I'd gone because you'd considered it yourselves, hadn't you?" She looked sympathetically at them.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but it was just talk. Especially as we don't even have any idea of how to unlock the door. We needed to spout nonsense about what we'd do if we were going. The Knight Bus seemed like the most logical way...."

"Why did you think I'd gone out, again?" Ginny said, frowning. All three of them looked toward the front door.

"Well, we thought we heard someone open and close it. And Mrs Black started to go off again. No, wait, that was after we started shouting. I suppose it could have been something else we were hearing. Could have been anything. We're a bit tense and jumpy right now," Hermione conceded. Ron glared at her, obviously still convinced that he'd heard the door. Ginny smiled wickedly at them.

"You need to relax. A little snogging might be in order," she said mischievously.

While Ron looked heartened at that, Hermione turned a deep red.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Percy gave Umbridge more Veritaserum and she was gazing at him with a glassy look to her eyes once again. He didn't want to risk being taken in by any lies. "I didn't put it all together until I returned from Hogwarts," she said dreamily. "But the more I thought about it the more it all fit. There was the way you did your job for Cornelius, plus volunteering to do so many things for me, as well. Volunteering to take notes for us, even though we could have used a Quick-Quotes Quill. Being so concerned about Willy Widdershins's legal difficulties when he told us about Potter's meeting with his friends at the Hog's Head.... Being so willing to draught my educational decrees. But what really made me wonder was that Prophet article...."

"Which article?" he asked, truly wondering. There were so many to choose from...

"The one in which Lucius Malfoy was quoted, and you, as well. You wrote it, of course, as the Minister told you to. The Minister loved your articles. He told me we were fortunate to have you; you could have gone to work for the Prophet. If you only knew the praise he heaped on you when you weren't around! But somehow I knew you had to be too good to be true." Percy flinched; sometimes hearing the unvarnished truth was less than enjoyable. He regretted, for a moment, having given her more of the potion. She continued in the high, sing-song voice, "No one could be that perfect for a job when they'd made such a ruddy mess of their first one..."

"Why me?"

Dumbledore nodded, clearly expecting this. "Now, I do not want you to take this the wrong way, Percy, but it seems quite possible that you will not be in your present position at the Ministry for much longer. I wish to prevent your leaving the employ of the Ministry altogether. Although there are some members of the Order in other departments besides your father's, none are in a position or doing work that would enable them to inform me of truly important decisions being made by the Minister before they are acted upon."

Percy dropped his jaw. "You want me to--I mean, excuse my language, sir, but after the bleeding cock-up I managed in my first job, what makes you think the Minister for Magic himself would want to hire me for anything?"

The edge of Dumbledore's mouth turned up as he said ruefully, "I think that someone expressing opinions that are the same as the Minister's would have an excellent chance of being offered a position very close to the Minister at this time. Cornelius is distressingly predictable, but this can work to our advantage. You must, of course, not appear to be fishing for a promotion. You must not even give away that you are aware of any rift between the Minister and me. I need someone who is an unknown quantity to the Minister except in one regard: loyalty. He has been interrogating you regarding the affair of Mr Crouch. And he knows that you have been loyal to a fault. He will find that very, very attractive. And any negative opinions that you may express about me, doubly so."

"But--but--" Percy sputtered. "But he knows how my dad thinks, and that he's friends with you. And even if he did offer me a position, how do I know he wouldn't try to use me to spy on my family against my will? I could be putting all of them at risk!"

Dumbledore nodded. "You see, Percy? You're not as bad at this as you think you are. I've already thought of that. The greatest sacrifice you will need to make, if you accept my offer, would be to make a very public break with your family. Everyone must believe that you are no longer on good terms with any of them, and with me as well. Cornelius is far more likely to confide in you if he believes you will not be carrying anything home to your family. And for this to be effective I must insist that you not tell the truth of your situation to anyone at all. Not even your girlfriend."

Percy grimaced and mumbled, "Well, as she hasn't spoken to me in about four months that shouldn't be a problem."

Dumbledore did not acknowledge that he had spoken. "In turn I will not be revealing your identity to any of the other members of the Order. You will give any information gathered to me and me alone. I will tell you the names of the other Order members, of course, for it is possible that, from time to time, some of us will, erm, attract a bit of trouble. I wish to have someone close to the Minister who knows whether a newly detained prisoner, for instance, is actually working for me. Cornelius has shown an alarming tendency to bring in Dementors first and ask questions later. However--you are not to do anything to assist any members of the Order unless I ask you to. I do not want to draw unnecessary attention to you. If you hear of a member of the Order who is in a spot of trouble I would like to know as quickly as possible, however, so that I may decide on a course of action, if there is to be one. And unfortunately, I cannot give you a written list of names. But I can put the names directly into your memory, so that you can access it at any time. That will have to do. We cannot afford to have anything lying about in writing. Codes can be broken, as well as concealment spells."

"You mean--I couldn't even tell my mum and dad? I'd have to let them think I hate them?" His voice shook; he couldn't imagine being on the outs with his mum. The only time he could ever remember her being angry with him was when he'd suggested that his father had erred in talking to Rita Skeeter about the riot at the World Cup. The thought of that being the rule and not the exception was bone chilling.

Dumbledore seemed to be considering this carefully. "Your parents. Hm. Well, that may be wise, actually, to have them know what you are up to, at least in the abstract. That way we may be assured that they will not waste their time--and yours--trying to extend the olive branch repeatedly. And if your siblings follow their example and regard you as persona non grata that should take care of that problem as well. I trust Molly and Arthur to keep this to themselves. But you must not make any contact with them, even if you are having difficulty communicating with me. I am the only person to whom you will give information."

Percy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir." Then he realised that his last barrier had been removed; he was going to do this, he really was. It was important work and, as Dumbledore said, there was no one else who could do it. He stood up straight and nodded at his former headmaster, saying formally, "I accept your offer to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Percy vividly remembered the article she was talking about. Not only had he taken great pains over it, he'd also worked long and hard to put all of the pertinent information from the article into the letter he'd written to Ron, a letter he'd carefully sent in the middle of the night, to avoid the owl-checks at Hogwarts. It had been Dumbledore's idea to write the letter, since he otherwise wasn't to have contact with his family. Dumbledore had been avoiding Harry's presence for reasons he did not reveal to Percy, but he wanted Harry to know about the things that were going to be in the article the following day, and he also wanted to ensure that Ron and Hermione would remain Harry's staunch allies. The best way to do that, Percy felt, was for him to tell Ron to stay away from Harry. "If I tell him to do something," Percy had said sadly, "you can count on his doing the opposite." Dumbledore had agreed.

"I assume you thought you were clever," Umbridge said to him, "to give away so much information in the article. I do not remember the Minister authorising the release of that information. But thanks to you everyone knew we were attempting to gain control of Hogwarts, everyone knew that Cornelius had appointed me, not Dumbledore. Everyone knew I was to be High Inquisitor. Including Malfoy's quote was a masterstroke, I must admit, and I take it that the 'Ministry insider' was actually you?" Percy nodded, trying not to smirk. "And, of course, you mentioned Marchbanks and Ogden resigning their posts on the court in protest. That way anyone who agreed with them knew where they stood. Clever, very clever."

"You forgot the part about including Madam Marchbanks' links to subversive goblin groups," he said, feeling unaccountably hurt that she'd neglected this. "But what I still want to know most is--who else knows about me?" he hissed at her, pointing his wand at her throat. She seemed to be a little more alert again but he did not want to end the interrogation before he'd learned this most important piece of information.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Well," Tilda said softly as they drove down the Greater Whinging High Street. "Almost home."

"Yeah," Harry said from under his Cloak. The silent miles felt like a leaden weight on his chest that he ached to throw off. "Erm, wasn't that funny, the bloke who didn't have any money at the cafe?" he said, trying to get any sort of conversation going. When she didn't respond, he went on awkwardly, "You know, the Viking-looking bloke with the red hair. Careful!" Tilda had been turning right and nearly drove into a lamppost instead; he could see her taking great gulping breaths. "Are you all right?"

She went on driving, looking calmer now. "Yes, of course. I'm perfectly fine. I'm just--tired. I miscalculated on the turn is all. What were you saying?"

"Oh--I'm not sure. Wait--that's right. The bloke at the cafe. You think that was actually Monopoly money he was trying to use? Or do you reckon he really was a counterfeiter?"

She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. "I--I don't know. I didn't see before the cop hauled him off."

They drove past Privet Drive; a man Harry did not recognise was walking a puppy, strolling along slowly. Otherwise there was no one else about. He sighed, not looking forward to leaving Tilda but knowing that he had to. Worse than leaving her, though, would be facing the music for what he'd done.

Facing Dumbledore.

They passed Magnolia Crescent and Harry saw the man and puppy again; Harry would have suspected that he was following them except that the man didn't seem to notice the car at all. Still, Harry sat up, wondering whether he was being paranoid or observant. Tilda continued to drive in silence and Harry watched the man until he was out of sight.

Suddenly, Tilda pulled the car over and turned off the motor. Harry stared at her through the Cloak.

"Harry," she said, "I just want to--to tell you how much it means to me to have my mum back. And how much this fortnight has meant to me. I know that this may be too much to ask--but please don't hate me. Promise me you'll get a proper girlfriend and forget all about me."

He nodded, then realised that she couldn't see him. "Of course. Yeah. No, I could never hate you...."

He rather had the impression that she liked talking to him while he was under the Cloak, so she wouldn't have to look at him. They sat in silence for a few minutes while she collected herself. Finally, she started the car again and drove very slowly as they neared the end of their journey.

Harry had a jolt when she turned onto her street and he saw the man and his puppy again. It could just be coincidence, but what if it wasn't? Harry kept an eye on the man as Tilda left the car idling, walking to the garage to open it. He heard the creak as the door was raised but continued to watch the man, whose puppy was peeing against a tree trunk.

Suddenly, he heard a very familiar noise: someone had been struck by a spell. The air seemed to crackle still with the energy. He turned and, to his horror, saw Tilda lying in the drive, very still. Still more shocking was that members of the Order of the Phoenix--including Dumbledore--were all over Mrs Figg's lawn.

He felt angry, angrier than he ever remembered being. He didn't know who had hit Tilda, but whoever it was Harry was going to give them a piece of his mind, even if it had been Dumbledore himself who'd done it.

Mindless of what the dog-walker would see, he opened the passenger door of the car, still in his Cloak, which was tripping him up. Annoyed, he whipped it off. He didn't care about the Muggle man; that's what memory charms were for, and he wasn't doing magic, technically. Unlike the person who had hexed Tilda.

Since he couldn't direct his question to a particular person he directed it at everyone present, feeling his face grow hot as he demanded, "What did you do that for? I was going to turn myself in tonight!"

Remus frowned at Harry. "I'm trying to--"

"Aaaaargh!"

Harry saw one of the Order members go down after a bolt of red light hit him. Suddenly and soundlessly a new crop of wizards had appeared on Mrs Figg's lawn. Voldemort stood in their midst, tallest of them all, surrounded by a dozen Death Eaters. One of them was Severus Snape.

Almost casually, Voldemort appeared to be pointing his wand at Harry, who felt unable to move, paralysed. But then Voldemort abruptly changed his aim and a crackling arc of green light reached across the street where the Muggle man had been walking his puppy.

There was no thud; Harry forced himself to look over his shoulder to see what had happened. The man lay on the pavement, very still, staring lifelessly up at the night sky.



Author notes: Thanks to Rena, Cattatra, Nick and Lea for the beta reading and Britpicking.
More information on my HP fanfiction and essays can also be found HERE. Please be a considerate reader and review.