Dream Deferred

Prologue

"We are gathered here today to remember the life of a great wizard."

Percy sat near the front of the crowd, listening as Cornelius Fudge began the eulogy for his mentor, his childhood hero.

"Bartemius Crouch was a man whose passion for justice and peace in our world has affected every one of our lives."

Well, I don't know if in the end it was his passion for justice and peace, or his other, baser passions that affected my life more, thought an American witch sitting in a back corner of the grand cathedral. She schooled her expression to stay solemn for the sake of her teenage son next to her.

"It seems almost unnecessary to recount his greatest moments, as they have already become features of our recent history, and are well known to all of us here."

Not all of us. The teenage boy was desperate to hear information about the man he'd never heard of until a week ago. Please, tell me something about my Father!

"Barty Crouch was more than just a co-worker of mine - he was also a close friend."

Liar, Percy thought bitterly. He considered you a fool, and you made certain his scandals were publicized to the full extent to benefit your own political career.

"Many of us probably owe him our lives - whether we realize it or not."

Well, now I realize it. It would have been nice to have heard of the man responsible for my existence before he died.

"When the shadow of You-Know-Who hung heavy upon us, it was Barty Crouch who fought hardest to have it lifted. If he hadn't taken control, the situation would be very bleak now indeed."

The American witch wasn't the only person crying at this point, but she was probably the loudest. He fought so hard. He really was a good man-I know he was.

"He dedicated everything to our world. His strength, his blood, and ultimately, his life to our world."

Across the packed cathedral, Percy also had tears flowing down his face. Except in the end, he let loyalty to his blood do him in. Percy's thoughts were bitter that such a grace could become a mortal weakness.

"We will all miss his presence. May he rest in peace."

Somewhere in the rafters, a choir began the dirge, and the masses who had gathered began the slow procession past the closed casket. To some there that day, he was a hero. To others, he was a villain. Still they came to see him laid to rest. It gave Percy satisfaction somewhere deep within him to see all these people mourn his mentor. Yet somehow, he couldn't join them in their walk. It wasn't enough for him. His memorial to Crouch would be the rest of his life, to try to carry on where he had left off. There was still much left unfinished. For now, he just watched the crowd walk by. Slowly they shuffled by, a sea of black robes. Above, the choir sang on.

Percy began to prepare himself to say his final good byes, when he observed a mother and son talking by the casket. When the boy turned so that his face was visible, Percy let in a deep breath. Crouch's son. The resemblance was uncanny; no one who had ever met Crouch could deny it. There had always been rumours during Crouch's glory days, while his wife was ill, but over the years they'd been forgotten. When word came out after his death that the American boy had been named the Crouch heir, the press had a field day. Now here he was...

"Mom, why isn't the casket open?"

"They must have decided to keep it closed, Karl."

"But I want to see him. Who can open it up for me?"

"Karl, I'm sure they have a reason..."

"He's my Father, and I want to see him." Karl's tone was firm, and it was also getting louder.

Percy wasn't the only person observing the conversation anymore, and he saw a lingering cameraman start to dig out his equipment after the boy's last line. Percy sighed. He'd hoped this sort of thing could have been avoided. It tainted Crouch's memory to have everyone focused on these two rather than on the wizard they had come to mourn. He stepped forward, deciding to deal with the situation quickly and as quietly as possible before it got out of hand.

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Karl," Percy spoke quietly, purposely letting the boy know he knew who he was before turning to his mother. "Did you not pass on the report of Mr. Crouch's death, Mrs. Flourish? I made sure it was included in the notice sent to you, for yours and the boy's sake. I'm sure you realize that it makes an open casket impossible."

"Percy? Percy Weasley? Is that you? Of course it's you, look at the hair. I couldn't believe it when I saw your name on the letter. You really are all grown up and you did go work for Crouch, just like you said you would when I last saw you. Do you remember that day I watched you? You could have only been five at the time." The woman was babbling now, and Percy sighed. There were stories of Eleanor Flourish's ability to make a scene, and not only had she not grown out of it, it was apparently genetic.

"You obviously got the letter I sent out, but clearly didn't follow its directions to tell your son the details."

"What details?" Karl demanded. "What did you not tell me?"

Eleanor choked back a sob, tears welling up in her eyes. "There was so much to tell him, I was overwhelmed. I just wanted to spare him..." She was crying rather pathetically now.

"Spare me!" Karl's voice had definitely risen above a tone that should ever be used indoors. "Spare me the same way you did when you decided not to tell me that dad isn't my Father? Now will someone please open this casket and let me look at my Father's face once in my life, even if it's too late for him to ever see mine!" His glare included not only his mother and Percy, but the growing crowd around them.

"Out!" Percy said, summing up every ounce of authority he could. Some of the crowd began to disperse, but many remained. The cameraman had finally got his equipment set up, and snapped a picture of the scene. Fudge was looking at Percy, questions in his eyes. Percy looked straight at him as he spoke again.

"For Merlin's sake, he is Crouch's son. Give the boy a few minutes privacy." Fudge seemed to get the message, and ushered the last stragglers out of the church. After he shut the door, the silence seemed to echo through the cavernous cathedral.

"Can I see my Father now?" Karl was quieter, but that only made his hopeful question seem even more desperate. Percy looked directly at Eleanor.

"Would you like to explain the situation to him, or do you need me to do it?" Eleanor's answer was another sob.

Percy hesitated. How did you tell a fourteen year old that his father had been murdered - by his other son? Did the boy even know he had a half brother? For a brief moment he came very close to understanding why Eleanor had skirted around the topic.

Ten minutes later, Fudge came back in. He avoided looking at Karl and Eleanor, and instead looked at Percy. "We can't wait any longer. It's time for the burial."

Eleanor was dabbing her eyes daintily, and Karl rubbed the back of his hands over both of his eyes.

"You understand then-it's been months. I'm afraid the body just isn't viewable." Percy was relieved to see Karl nod as he finished, even if the boy did look a bit pale.

"We're finished," Percy told Fudge. As that man turned around again to open the doors, Percy had one last thing to say to Karl. "If you have any further questions about Crouch, I'll answer whatever I can." Then, together, along with the handful of other men Fudge had let back in, they lifted the casket onto their shoulders to carry out. Fudge had no choice but to follow behind them. Unfinished business is what I said I'd take care of. Your son is one place to start.