Darkness Rising

2. A Search Begun

Vienna, Austria
Somewhere under the Hofburg

Harry sat behind his desk, twirling a quill absently as he reflected on the past thirty-six hours. It was dawn, two days after Percy had been kidnapped, and he and his team were waiting for the results of the photographs of the runes. He blinked slowly, felt his eyelids droop, and yawned. He couldn’t sleep, not yet, so he snapped his eyes open and went in search of some Pepper-up potion. A short walk later, he found himself in a small, closed-off room, off of one of the side corridors. Tall round tables and a boiling, steaming cauldron in the middle of the room provided everything he needed. The cauldron held a strong dose of Pepper-up potion and he dipped a cup into it. Trying not to look at the thick black liquid, he drank the entire thing in one gulp, coughing loudly as it went down his throat, burning.

“Strong enough for you, Potter?” Andre asked, smiling. “Made it myself,” he said, coming into the room and pounding Harry on the back, stopping Harry from coughing anymore.

“Yeah. Good though,” Harry replied, finally able to speak after the tingling sensation that spread all over his body went away. “What’s up?”

“The photographs are developed, and Tab is taking a look at them. She’s not really happy about it though,” Andre added. “Markum is doing them?” Harry asked, curious. Christy Agitha was one of the Rune Readers for the ICW, but Tabella Markum was her boss, mean-spirited and a sour, pinched woman. “Yeah,” Andre answered. “She took a look at them and didn’t recognize anything. She thought her boss might have a better time of it. You ready?” He grinned at his boss.

Harry laughed. “In an ideal world, Andre, I would be home in bed and you and she would be out on the town. Let’s go take a look. Tabella Markum doesn’t frighten me, not now.” The pair left the small room, and headed down into the depths of the Security Department.

Reaching the Runes Research Department, they found the room dark, except for a single overhead light, casting shadows over a stunning woman. She was tall and had long black curly hair, and was dressed conservatively, with a full cloak on. She turned to them at their approach, and clicked her teeth. “You’re late,” she said irritably, before turning back to her work. Tabella Markum was not someone to cross, nor did she make friends easily. In fact, Harry mused silently, the only person who could really talk to her was Andre.

“What have you found, Markum?” Harry asked, anxious to get moving again. The Pepper-up potion seemed to be working, as he started to pace around the room. She gave him a glare, before bending over the table again.

“Potter, I’ve been at this for all of 10 minutes. If you want this done right, leave me alone!” she said irritably.

Harry started to say something, but then he thought better of it. “Fine,” he told her, “I’ll be back in the morning - I want some results. You’re the best we have, and if you can’t do it, then...”

Andre and Markum whirled on him, and gaped. “Then what, Potter?” She asked him venomously, folding her arms. She hated when someone was brought in that was smarter than she.

“Then I will bring in someone who can,” he said, and stalked out of the room. I know just the witch, too, if she is willing to come all this way, he thought to himself as he walked along. Markum really annoyed him, but he did have to admit that she was really quite bright, and if she couldn’t find a solution, then he would be hard-pressed to find anyone who could, even with his threat.

“Potter!” Andre’s voice echoed through the hall. “Potter!” he called again, finally getting Harry’s attention. “Watch what you say to her, Potter. You might be Dumbledore’s golden boy, but she has been here a long time. And she has a long memory.”

Harry’s green eyes flashed angrily, and he towered over Andre. “I earned my way here, thank you very much, Andre. I don’t like people who have to be handled with kid gloves, and I don’t like it when those people have lives in their hands - they’re too unstable,” he was shouting, and a house-elf squeaked in the distance. With a breath, he stepped away, calming himself down. “I’m going to take a kip. I’ll be in my office.”

* * * * *

It was morning, and Harry lay flopped out on his office cot, which had been a small figurine of a dog only four hours before. He re-transfigured it, and went out into the bustle of the early morning. It only took a moment to reach the Runes Department, and he found Markum in the same position as he left her last night. “What have you found, Markum?”

“Good morning to you too, Potter,” she replied sarcastically. “I can’t help you. It’s some sort of a tri-ruinic cipher, in a language I’ve never seen before. There are some characters I recognize, but...” she shrugged and handed the photographs over to Harry who took them.

“Thank you, Markum. I know you did your best.” Harry replied sincerely. She looked at him oddly, then nodded, and turned back to her desk. Harry left the room, and headed to the Fireplace Communication Banks. The FCB was a large circular room, full of ultility fireplaces, so that the wizarding population of the ICW could get anywhere they needed to if they couldn’t Apparate. He chose a fireplace, and lit a small fire. “Hermione Granger!” he cried, and stuck his head into the flames.

A surprised witch started back at him, and when he asked for Hermione, she smiled, and said that she would be right back. Harry nodded, and got more comfortable to wait. He was staring at a gold and purple low slung chair that seemed to be snoring. After leaving Hogwarts, Hermione had become a curse breaker for Gringott’s Bank. One of their best. She and Ron had married late in the summer after they left Hogwarts, but two years later they divorced, realizing that they were better as friends.

Hermione came into view, and sat down in the chair. She grinned at him, until she saw his face. “Harry, is everything alright?” she asked tentatively.

He could see her mind working, and he grinned as much as his sleep deprivation would let him. “Actually no, Hermione, it’s not. Percy Weasley’s been kidnapped, and...” he filled her in on what they knew. “We’ll be able to get him back if we can get in there. Would you be able to come and crack this rune for us?”

“Let me talk to Gripon, my boss. I’ll see if I can get away for a couple of days - I am due for some time off,” she said, and got up, leaving Harry staring at her empty space. Hermione was very pretty, when she wanted to be, but mostly she had a no-nonsense look about her. She returned a few minutes later, smiling. “I’ll floo over in about an hour. I have one more stop to make. You sure you have enough room in your flat for me?”

Harry nodded, and told her to be careful. “I don’t know who might be important in this, or what this all means, but something tells me it’s bigger than any of us over here realize.”

* * * * *

London, United Kingdom
Diagon Alley

Hermione Granger, dressed in pants and a sleeveless sky-blue top, walked along Diagon Alley, lost in thought. Her thoughts revolved around what Harry had told her about Percy’s kidnapping, and what it could mean. It was obvious that some Death Eaters had escaped -- she wouldn’t believe someone like Lucius Malfoy was dead until she saw the body. If they had somehow reorganized themselves, well, Voldemort might be dead, but a new Dark Lord might rise. In the history of the Wizarding World, numerous Dark Wizards had fought their way to power, only to be thwarted.

She was so lost in thought that she passed right by the ramshackle building sandwiched between two larger ones that housed the premises of ‘Weasley Wizard Wheezes,’ and bumped into a passing wizard. She apologized, and he smiled, patted her on the shoulder and continued on his way. Her face burned with embarrassment, and Hermione turned towards the door and tried the latch. It was locked. She looked at her watch, noted the time, and suddenly realized where Ron was. With a flash, she apparated away from Diagon Alley to the Burrow, just inside of the gate.

* * * * *

The Burrow
Ottery St. Catchpole, United Kingdom

Hermione stopped just outside of the door to the Burrow to collect her thoughts. Did she really want to do this? Harry had just asked her to Vienna, but she knew that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would want one of their children to be there, on the hunt for Percy. It had been a very hard reunion almost seven years ago, when Percy appeared on their doorstep, totally abashed and clearly out of the blue, asking what he could do to help. Since then, although the relations between them had been strained, Percy and his family had never stopped speaking to each other. Ron would have to do, seeing as she suspected none of the others would be able to get away. “Hello?” she called, pulling the door open and walking into the kitchen. The Weasleys were all here, and all had similar expressions of fear and worry written across their faces.

Ginny rushed up from her spot on the couch and hugged her warmly. For a moment, she saw Ron glare at her; they had argued last week and she hadn’t had the time to smooth things over. “We’re glad you’re here Hermione. Percy’s been--” Ginny began, and the rest of the Weasley’s added in their own thoughts loudly.

“I know. I’ve been in touch with Harry,” she said matter-of-factly. “Or rather, Harry’s been in touch with me. There’s a rune or two he’s trying to crack, and the ICW’s Readers can’t seem to figure it out, so I’ve been called in.” Ginny’s freckled face nodded in acceptance.

“Why did you come here, then?” Fred asked Hermione, as Mrs. Weasley got up to pour some tea for the family.

“Well I hoped to bring Ron with me.” There was a loud chatter when she said that - Ginny and Fred raised objections that they should go, while Ron protested that he wasn’t interested in going.

“Ronald,” his mother scolded as she handed Hermione a cup of tea, “your brother Percy deserves our support, and I think you should go with Hermione.” She sounded worried, Hermione noted. In fact, there were deep lines on all of their faces. It had obviously been a stressful day or two. Mr. Weasley’s shirt and robes were fairly rumpled, and he smiled wearily. “Your mother’s right, Ron. Do you see that clock? Do you?” He began angrily, then settled down a bit. “Percy’s hand is on ‘Mortal Peril’. We can’t abandon him--”

Ron cut in -- “Like he abandoned us, you mean!”

There was a wave of noise after that, every single one of the red heads trying to be heard, and Hermione had finally had enough. She stood up, and whipped her wand towards the ceiling. A loud ‘BANG’ echoed through the room, and everyone quieted down. “Can I talk to Ron in the garden for a few minutes?” Hermione motioned him over to her, and together they left the house, going far enough away as to not be overheard.

“Ron, why are you being so difficult?” she started to say, as his face turned bright red. “Is this about last week?” He nodded. “I’m sorry we fought Ron, but sometimes you just don’t get it. We’re not married anymore, and--”

“No, what gave you the first clue, Hermione?" Ron said sarcastically. "I know Percy is important to all of us - we can’t lose him. Mum, Dad, and all of us have been sitting here for two days now, hardly moving. We’ve tried the Ministry, but they won’t tell us anything. Dumbledore said Harry was working on it when we owled him, but...” he trailed off, and grabbed Hermione tightly, his head on her shoulder.

“Will you go with me?” She asked cautiously, her hands rubbing his lightly muscled back over his shirt.

He released her, and nodded. “Sure. Besides, we haven’t seen Harry in...what, about three months?” She laughed, and they went back inside. Hermione knew that finding Percy was important, but her friendship with Ron was more important. They went back inside, where the Weasleys were still chattering over who should go. The room fell silent, and everyone looked expectantly at Ron. He said “I’m going,” and Mrs. Weasley rushed up and enveloped both of them in a crushing hug.

“We should go pack, Mum. I told Harry we’d be there by late this afternoon, and we still need to portkey over to Vienna,” Hermione said. They left the room, and walked upstairs. Ron lived at home still, although there had been some talk earlier in the summer about moving in with Seamus, Dean and Neville. Packing, of course, took only a moment. Shirts, jeans, robes, socks and shoes all fell into Ron’s trunk messily. Hermione tsk’ed and with a wave, all of the clothes neatly folded themselves, and the lid shut.

It was a tearful goodbye. Fred and George slipped something into her pocket, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had tears in their eyes, and Mr. Weasley shook her hand, and wished them well. The pair apparated away to Hermione’s flat to pick up her trunk. “Are we really going to do this, Hermione?” he asked of her, for probably the fifth time. Her answer, “yes Ron, we are,” was always the same. He looked excited, and a little bit nervous to see Harry again. The last time they had seen him it had been... difficult to say the least. Hopefully with a goal in mind, they could all get along again.

Hermione and Ron apparated to the Diagon Alley Portkey Office, and purchased tickets from the bored looking witch sitting behind the dusty counter. Traveling by Portkey was the only way to go over long distances, unless you wanted to go by broom, which Hermione did not do. Ron had suggested this more than once, but Hermione had squashed it just as quickly. The Office was a vast room, with small cordoned off areas that had cities such as New York, Tokyo, New Delhi and St. Petersburg written in the air above them. Vienna’s was about halfway down the room, and a pompous looking wizard checked the clock on the wall. He announced “twelve-thirty to Vienna,” and his voice carried over the room. A few other people joined them, but not too many.

“Right then, grab hold of the wheel everyone. Five - four - three - ...” the wizard continued his countdown, and then Hermione felt the familiar tug of the Portkey. “Twelve-thirty four from London,” the wizard intoned when they arrived, and both Ron and Hermione let go of the ship’s wheel. It took only a moment to declare that they had no illegal goods and to have their bags searched. To Ron’s right, a witch with a small child was being held for having too many frog’s legs in her things. They moved beyond the barrier, and out into the warm Viennese sunshine.

“So where do we go from here, Hermione?” Ron asked, noting the differences between Waage Straße and Diagon Alley. Waage Straße was a broad, straight street, clean and well-ordered. Great Baroque buildings soared into the sky, and wizards and witches moved down the street at a slow pace, clearly enjoying the sunshine.

“To the ICW. Harry said we should meet him there and get to work.” With a look that forbid opposition, she headed in the direction of the Hofburg and the ICW. Ron sighed, and followed behind her.

* * * * *

Vienna, Austria
ICW Headquarters - the Hofburg

Harry checked his watch again, scanning those approaching the Hofburg. He’d given Hermione very good directions, but she was at least ten minutes late. A very frazzled Hermione and frustrated Ron came into view looking quite weary. They were walking between two buildings, and he waved them over to him. They crossed traffic, and plunked down on the stone rail of the fountain, bags slipping off their shoulders and onto the ground. “Ron, what are you--?” Harry started, but Hermione cut in, speaking quickly and obviously trying to head off an argument.

“Harry, I know that you asked just me to come, but I thought that Ron might be able to help us, after all, he was responsible for--”

“Hermione,” Ron began, putting his finger gently over her mouth. “I think Harry has enough space for two guests, don’t you?” Harry tried to suppress a laugh, and couldn’t hold it in. He started laughing, unable to stop. Hermione, her face stern, drove him into further hysterics. Ron joined him, and their laughter echoed around the square in front of the Hofburg.

“Of course I do,” he told them after settling down a bit. “And Ron?” Harry held out his hand, which Ron took, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“Sure mate, sure,” Ron told him. And everything was okay again.

“They’re still serving lunch, if you’re hungry...?” Harry trailed off, and watched as Ron nodded his head greedily. He could still out eat a hippogriff if he wanted to, after all this time. The trio made their way inside the Hofburg, and down into the ICW.

Ron and Hermione had never been there before, and were suitably impressed when Harry showed them the ICW command center, the security offices, but they were most impressed by the Hall of the Council, where the Mugwumps of the various wizard governments met together. They stored their luggage in Harry’s office, and then headed to the cafeteria.

Ron’s eyes bulged when he saw the spread of food; twelve different breads and fifteen cheeses, three roasting hams, a huge bowl of potato and a cornucopia of vegetables from every colour of the rainbow. Hermione chose a chunk of a baguette and a small salad and Ron took everything else in sight, or at least he tried to. Conversation was limited during the feeding, although they could hear Ron exclaim something about, “This has Hogwarts beat!” as they ate together. When Ron had finally pushed back his last plate, and rubbed his stomach in appreciation of the meal he just ate, Hermione asked if they could get to work.

“Sure,” was Harry’s reply, getting up. He took Ron and Hermione into the Rune Research Department, and found an empty workspace to house them. Harry pulled out the photograph and Markum’s notes and set them before Hermione. “Markum thinks that the key is in this third rune here. It looks like a runic version of the letter ‘so’ in middle high Elvish,” he told her, pointing to a half-circle with a diagonal line through it.

Hermione thought for a long minute, reading over each line carefully, and shook her head, her mind thinking. “It’s not,” she pulling out a parchment and quill from the desk, and charmed the quill to record what she said. “The third line of runes seem to be Almakin Elvish, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are in South Grindolin,” she turned the photo upside-down and continued. She called for some obscure book or another every so often, and either Harry or Ron would get it for her.

However, after three hours of sitting, watching her work, Ron was restless. Finally, she took a break with her thoughts, and he asked Harry if he wanted to go for a walk. Hermione hadn’t even begun to translate yet - she had gone over the photographs at least thirty times. Harry agreed, and they left Hermione where she was, Harry telling her that if she needed a real break, coffee and tea was in the room down the hall.

“If she comes to me and tells me the runes say ‘ha ha ha’, I will not be happy,” Harry told Ron as they walked around the cavern. “Here, I have something I want to show you.” Harry took Ron down a side corridor, and opened an unremarkable wooden door. Worn stone steps wound down into the ground, and finally stopped at another door. Harry tapped it once with his wand, and it opened onto a crystal blue river, stretching off into the distance. They stood on a small platform and looked out over the peaceful water. “How are you holding up?” Harry asked Ron.

Ron was silent, and looked out over the glinting water. He finally shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s Percy, for Merlin’s sake!” His voice echoed throughout the cavern. “He’s my brother. Mum and Dad are so worried because it’s not like during the war, not really. But we’ll find him, won’t we?” Ron was hopeful, more hopeful than Harry felt.

“We will Ron, don’t worry,” Harry assured him, patting him on the back. “Ron?” Harry asked quietly, looking at him.

“Yeah, Harry?”

“Do you still love her?” It had been obvious to anyone who was looking that Ron was still hopelessly in love with Hermione, and probably always had been. There were glances that Ron gave her when she wasn’t looking, he would touch her arm when making a point, or a hundred other things that made it evident.

Ron’s breath caught, and he leaned on the railing, turning to Harry. “Is it that obvious?” He said with a sigh.

“Not to most people, Ron,” Harry replied.

“I love her so much, Harry. We divorced because we fought all the time. About everything. Now, there isn’t all that pressure, and I can still love her, even if we can only be friends.”

Harry stopped himself from saying that Hermione was in love with him to; that wouldn’t do anything but add fuel to the pity party. “We should get drunk and forget all our troubles. You love Hermione, but can’t be with her. And me, well, I’m pretty much alone again.”

“But what about--” started Ron, but Harry cut him off.

“We ended things the last time I visited, which is why I was so angry,” Harry said. His last relationship had broken up because his ex was cheating on him.

Ron nodded. “Let’s get drunk then, and forget all our troubles,” he answered, laughing sadly.

“I wonder how Hermione has done. It’s been almost an hour,” Harry said to Ron, glancing at his watch. “And she seemed to be fairly close to something before we left.” They made their way to the stairs, closing the door behind them.

Hermione, predictably, was in the workroom they had left her in, with a neat stack of parchment in one corner. She was still talking to herself, but her tone was much happier than the last time they had seen her. Hermione looked up at them, stopping in mid sentence, the quill poised in the air for her next word. She waved her wand, and the quill lay down. “How’s it going, Hermione?” Harry asked, curiously looking at the picture of the sarcophagus.

She smiled as she took a sip of water from the cup she had sitting on the desk. “I wasn’t sure at first that what Markum said was right - she didn’t look at the seventh or twelfth runic level, only at the third. She was, at least on the third level.”

Ron looked confused. “Hermione, speak English. Use words that I can understand,” he told her, shaking his head.

“Right. Sorry Ron. I’m used to having people around me that know what a runic level is. Harry, the runes don’t say anything at all,” Hermione concluded, folding her arms under her chest.

“What? But they’re runes! They have to mean something! There was a stone defender or something on top, to keep people from reading them!” He couldn’t believe it, not at all. All that time and energy wasted. “What am I going to do now?”

“No mate,” Ron told him, “what are we going to do now?” Harry looked at Hermione.

Hermione nodded as well. “You asked for us, and you’ve got us, Harry,” she explained. “We’re going to find Percy.”

“Do you have any idea what the cover means then?” Harry asked, hopeful that Hermione knew something other than what she was telling him. She looked over the pictures again, and shook her head. “No, but there is a pattern to these runes. Can we see the actual sarcophagus? It might help to run some tests or something on it.”

“I suppose so. We’ll have to be careful though. St. Stephan’s isn’t the easiest place to break into,” Harry finished. Both Ron and Hermione grinned. It was just like old times.

* * * * *

Vienna, Austria,
Somewhere Under St. Stephen’s

Percy screamed hoarsely; his parched throat and mouth was inflamed and begged for relief, for a cool thin stream of anything to trickle down his throat. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, beyond anything he had ever thought he would have to deal with, even during the Second War. He started to giggle uncontrollably, his voice echoing throughout the empty chamber. Must resist, he thought, again. That had been his mantra for his entire captivity. If he resisted, then at least some part of him would stay sane.

The worst part of the whole ordeal had been the silence - after that initial interrogation, there had been nothing. No human contact. Rats, emboldened by his inability to resist had begun to circle closer and closer to him. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before one of them would get brave enough to bite. He laughed all the harder, knowing that if no one came for him, even Malfoy, then he would be dead. For some inexplicable reason, that was funny.

A harsh rectangle of bright light pierced his sight, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the glare. He heard the door close, and felt the light in the room snap on. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light. Lucius Malfoy stood stooped before him, wand at the ready. “Legilimens!” Malfoy said matter of factly, as if discussing the weather, and Percy felt his mind open.

Memories of years past, of things nearly forgotten poured out: George and Fred having their first joke at his expense; Charlie going off to Romania; becoming Head Boy. Nearly everything in his life came forward in a rush. Malfoy grabbed a more recent memory, two days before his trip to Vienna.

Percy stood in his Department Head’s office, poised to do his next assignment. “Percy,” Patrick Renfrew began, “the Minister and I have agreed that you’re the perfect person for the task. I want you to take this briefcase to Vienna and Headmaster Dumbledore. He’ll be wanting it. It contains two copies of the 1918 agreements signed between the magical government of the Habsburg realm and the Allied Powers.”

Malfoy let out a snarl, and he raised his wand to Percy’s throat. “That’s what in the briefcase?” Percy laughed. Malfoy asked again, and Percy choked out another laugh. Waves of pain hit him, and he laughed all the harder. The pain stopped, leaving only a memory in its wake.

“Legilimens!” Malfoy cast it again, and Percy’s memory of that day continued.

“Mister Renfrew, is this really necessary for me to go? Can’t you send it by owl or something?” Percy asked, curious as to why someone of his rank in the Ministry would be sent on a mission as simple as this one.

“Yes, Weasley, it is. So, you’ll leave in the morning?” Renfrew had been standing by his desk, but now, without actually having walked anywhere, he was standing next to Percy, handing over the briefcase.

“Yes, sir,” Percy chimed in, and walked out of the office.

It was Malfoy’s turn to laugh, and laugh he did. “You’ve been the victim of a Memory Charm. Pario!” With that a silvery bug shot from Malfoy’s wand and landed on Percy’s face. It was almost insubstantial, but it still had eight legs, and crawled up into his ear. He started to spasm, and the bug wormed its way into his ear canal. Percy felt the bug push against his brains, burrowing a hole into them, and he screamed. “Exquisitely painful, isn’t it, Weasley? My little helper will effectively restore your memory. You of course, won’t survive for much more than a day or two afterwards because to restore your memory, it must die. However, the eggs that it lays will hatch in thirty-six hours, and they will consume your brain. I’m told it is a very painful process, one that takes almost a whole day for the newly hatchlings to eat their way out.”

Percy struggled, trying to knock the bug out of his head. Even as he did so, he could feel it moving inside, and he remembered things he hadn’t in years, little colors, smells and tastes bubbling to the surface. He felt smarter, more alert, wild. “Why do you want what’s in my head?” he asked, now curious as to why Malfoy would go to all this trouble.

“Since you are going to be insane shortly, I will tell you. All my life, I have worked towards the purity of the wizarding bloodlines. Wizards like you and your pathetic family don’t know what it is to be a true Pureblood, only to be a blood traitor. Voldemort was merely a means to an end. Whatever it took, whatever it takes, I am willing to do.”

“What ‘means to an end’?” Percy asked.

“When I was a student at Hogwarts, I read whispers of a potion that would burn out the Muggle blood in a person. Not the specific potion, but hints of its properties and ingredients. I have long suspected that the Ministry has a copy in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Why capture me, then?” Percy asked, very afraid now because the bug had stopped moving, and was slowly expanding.

Lucius smiled. “The Ministry wants Dumbledore to burn it, to destroy it forever. In your head is the key to break whatever code lies within the briefcase. Furthermore, once I have been reborn--” Percy suddenly let out a huge cry of pain, which caused Lucius to smile even bigger. “My bug has done its work. Excellent.”

With that, he set his wand against Percy’s temple, and started to pull. A long, thin silvery strand of memory appeared between his temple and Lucius’ wand. Suddenly, it stopped giving, almost as if it had reached some sort of snag in Percy’s head. Lucius stopped smiling, and pulled harder. The strand pulled another inch or so, but stopped again.

A knock broke Lucius’ concentration, and the memory snapped against Percy’s temple and melted against his head. Lucius turned to the door, and it flew open, blinding Percy. “What is it?” Lucius demanded harshly.

“You wanted to be told when--”

“Yes, yes. Good,” Lucius answered. “He’s arrived. He brings good news?” Lucius must have gotten a non-verbal reply, because Percy heard nothing. “Excellent. He is, as always, circumspect. No one suspects a thing,” Lucius said, moving away from Percy. “Don’t go anywhere, Weasley. We’re not through yet.” With a harsh laugh, Lucius walked out of the room, and Percy heard voices melting away into silence.

What was he going to do? He felt helpless as dry tears welled up in his dry eyes, and a sob escaped his throat.

* * * * *