Dusk and Flame

Chapter 2: Bluff and Double Bluff

Be subtle! Be subtle! and use your spies for every kind of business.

-- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

22 July 1996

As his secretary left his office with a sheaf of signed papers, British Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge looked despairingly at his desk.

It had been such a stressful summer. Due mostly to the Dark Lord's return. Cornelius admitted, now, that he had been a fool to believe that Dumbledore wanted his position (especially after he had declined six years ago), but, as he ruefully reminded himself, he had indeed been blind enough to think so. What a horrible year!

He put on his spectacles and drew the stack of documents toward him. Now, with You-Know-Who back and murderous as ever, work literally poured in for Cornelius. His secretary, Percy Weasley (who had broken off with his family in his loyalty to him, poor boy--Percy's family still wasn't talking to him), was amazingly adept at screening papers to find out if they were important, or silly letters like the one by some dame named Gudgeon (what type of a name was that?) about damn Lockhart at St. Mungo's, which he had offered to Cornelius to "amuse the Minister, perhaps." Cornelius had curtly replied to the letter, "The hell with Lockhart, and the hell with you! Who cares about a stupid, smiling idiot here? I hope he stays in St. Mungo's for all eternity, and may he rot there!"

Needless to say, he hadn't received a reply from the woman. Yet.

Amelia Bones was nagging about more work for the Aurors, he noted, as he read the top paper. He had increased security and surveillance, but he wasn't sure what else he could do (which, he knew, was laughable; after all, he had been the head of magical catastrophes before his elevation to Minister, for Merlin's sake, and the present situation definitely was a "magical catastrophe" in his magisterial eyes), so he had left the decisions to Amelia. He read through the document. She wanted more Aurors admitted (Cornelius agreed definitely with that; the last Auror had been admitted three... four years ago?), active hunting of the fugitives instead of surveillance (which he knew would probably be more effective than watching the Malfoy manor all the time), and the expulsion of the Dementors from Azkaban.

The last one, Cornelius frowned at. How else, he had at first asked, could the prison be guarded? Amelia's response: an icy, cool, "Do it with Aurors."

He knew, of course, that Dementors would join You-Know-Who at the first chance they had, but he was still uneasy about it. Dementors had been guarding Azkaban since Seclusion, and to depart from such a long history... well. History wasn't always right.

Cornelius wrote a note to himself, as a reminder that he would have to press the Department of Mysteries to increase research on the destruction of Dementors. The hooded creatures seemed to possess a mass mind of evil, and Cornelius had shuddered every time his duties required him to perform a review of Azkaban.

Azkaban made him think of the Death Eaters: Lestrange, Malfoy, Sirius Black (how had he escaped all those years ago, anyway?), Rookwood, Dolohov... it was a veritable nightmare to think of the criminals out in the world.

He signed Amelia's instructions, and put it in a space on the corner of his desk, where it would be easy for Percy to pick it up.

The next letter was from--Cornelius cringed in embarrassment--Dumbledore. Dumbledore made no mention of the past year's events, only saying that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures should send representatives to the Forbidden Forest to negotiate something with the centaurs. High Inquisitor Umbridge, the letter went on, had not had the best of relations with them, and he hoped to get on better terms with the centaurs.

Cornelius winced. Dolores had spiralled somewhat out of control. Issuing decrees this way and that, trying to cast the Cruciatus Curse, sending Dementors around the country... She had been loyal to Fudge, but, as he knew, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." One complaint about Dolores that he had always maintained: she had to learn better fashion sense than that hideous pink cardigan she was so fond of. And the pink bow. But he had never mentioned it to her, for fear she would take offence at it.

And she was now in St. Mungo's (like Lockhart), being treated after her bout with the centaurs. Yes, they would have to negotiate a truce with the half-man, half-horse beings, despite his aversion to centaurs (he had never thought much of them; all that Mars rubbish and whatnot). He pulled out a piece of parchment, jotted down orders to the Department, and signed his name with a flourish at the bottom.

Percy Weasley suddenly came in, his red hair strangely bright against the walls, which, to Cornelius, looked just as strangely bleak. He said, while adjusting his tortoise-shell frame glasses, "Sir, it's nearly lunchtime. What will you have?"

"The usual, please, Percy," said Cornelius absent-mindedly as he made some specifications to his order. "Thank you." He noticed a second piece of paper from Dumbledore.

Percy nodded and withdrew noiselessly from the office.

Cornelius groaned in frustration when he realised that Dumbledore wanted him to send Aurors to Hogwarts. We're already hard-pressed as it is--doesn't Hogwarts have plenty of wards? Why must he insist on all this protection for Hogwarts?

He put the question to Percy when the redhead re-entered the room, carrying a tray of roast beef, steak and kidney pie, fruit salad, and strawberry trifle, setting it down on Cornelius's desk. His secretary replied with a shrug, and the words, "I wouldn't know what Dumbledore thought of it all." His voice was emotionless; but then, Cornelius remembered, Percy had told him before about the row at his house over his father's continued support of Dumbledore. Percy didn't talk about that much nowadays. Perhaps that was it.

On the other hand, Percy was genuinely bemused at Dumbledore's strange request. As Hagrid had said to him plenty of times during his time at Hogwarts, Hogwarts was the safest place in the world.

... Well, Hagrid did exaggerate a lot. And Sirius Black had got onto the grounds, too, even with all the Dementors then... He might have to ask the Professor next time he saw him.

Percy muttered something vague to the Minister and went back to his desk. Sitting down in the chair, he began writing a summary of the department reports.

~

"Don't be preposterous!" said Percy Weasley to Professor Dumbledore. "The only reason that You-Know-Who would attack Hogwarts is to get at Harry, and he doesn't even have to do that! Harry was certainly lured out as easy as that a few months ago!"

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. His blue eyes were contemplative. "It is my opinion," he began, "that Voldemort doesn't really mean to attack Hogwarts as a major thing. You would likely be in more danger at the Ministry, as a matter of fact, in your post."

Amelia Bones sat ramrod straight. She was Percy's contact at the Ministry. "If there's an attack on Hogwarts, it's bound to be a diversion," she said. "But now, the problem is, where will he actually be directing his resources?"

The three of them sat in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. The room was locked and a Silencing charm set upon it. Dumbledore interlaced his fingers and looked ahead. "Well, this wasn't the main subject of the meeting, anyway," he said out loud, more to himself than to the other two. "Well, might as well do something while we wait for him. Percy?"

Unbeknownst to the large, redheaded, freckled (and, unfortunately, somewhat poor) Weasley family, the Ministry, and most of the Order, Percy had been passing information on the Ministry to the Order for the last year. As he had said to Dumbledore, "Aw, well, might as well do something for the cause. And my family's always going to think I care only about caldron bottoms, so I can do it at the Ministry plausibly enough."

It had been easy enough to create the situation. Percy just needed to find a nice piece of information that would annoy his father enough to get into a row. His promotion had done nicely.

He still hadn't made much contact with his family. His job (unofficially speaking) was to ingratiate himself with Fudge, Umbridge, and the others who were somewhat ethically confused, try and do something about the situation, and figure out what the hell was Lucius Malfoy doing by talking to Fudge and Umbridge the entire time? And collect plenty of might-be-useful Ministry gossip that never reached his father's ears, buried as he was in the Department of Misused Muggle Artefacts.

"Fudge... is cracking under the pressure, I think," said Percy carefully. "He's gone along with whatever request comes to his desk. He's tired and feels like an idiot after what happened." He made a vague gesture, encompassing all the fear and distrust of the past year in an idle wave of his hand.

Amelia Bones nodded. "That's quite true," she said, her voice sharp and precise--she reminded Percy of Professor Minerva McGonagall in Transfiguration class. "I've made demands he would never have allowed before last year, and he's approved all of them. He's lost his voice. He's..." she trailed off, shrugging her tweed-suit-encased-shoulders--she had just returned from a trip to the States, where they weren't so fond of wearing robes.

"I never thought he was mute," said Percy innocently. Amelia shot him an amused look.

For all that his family called him stuck-up and pompous, Percy did have a sense of humour (a little). It was just that he had never showed it much. His mother certainly wouldn't have tolerated it, just as she didn't tolerate Fred and George's antics. But then Mrs Weasley was rather overbearing.

The flames in Dumbledore's fireplace roared up green, and Potions Professor Severus Snape came out of the fire, fastidiously dusting off ashes, somehow managing to retain his composure, even as covered in soot as he was. "Headmaster, my apologies for being late--" He stopped short when he saw Amelia and Percy. "What are they doing here?"

"Why," said Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling--That's so annoying, thought Percy--"Amelia is my contact, and Percy is the most highly placed spy at the Ministry for the Order, working side by side with the Minister."

Percy saw Snape look at them, scrutinising them carefully. He wasn't surprised by Bones's presence, apparently, so it must because of Percy that his dark eyes were showing blatant astonishment.

Amazing. Had he played his role that well?

Snape gave Percy one more appraising look, before sitting down. "The Dark Lord unexpectedly summoned me away to give me instructions for this year," he began, before a: "Oh, don't look at me that way, he almost never curses me. He still thinks I'm very loyal to him, especially after my wonderful damage control during the Triwizard Tournament."

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm sure it was very favourable to your position, Severus."

"It was, it was." Percy noticed that Snape was being surprisingly informal, which was out of the ordinary indeed.

"Although, perhaps, that damage control was not exactly favourable to us," said Bones dryly.

Snape ignored her.

"He's ordered Draco Malfoy to assassinate you." Bluntly stated by Snape, the words hung ominously in the air.

"Expel him." Percy said promptly. "As I see it so far, one possible scenario that I think will work is that the Head (he meant Amelia Bones) will arrest Draco Malfoy on charges of collusion with Death Eaters. Arrest some of the others too, so it won't seem suspicious that Malfoy's the only one being arrested. Assign the suspension of writ of habeas corpus. No one will care. It's wartime, and the American president Lincoln did the same during their war. Go inspect Malfoy Manor, in Wiltshire. My father's suspected for ages that they might have Dark objects there--Professor Snape, is that correct?"

Snape assented with a nod.

"Then," Percy continued, "with the suspension of habeas corpus, you will be able to hold Draco Malfoy indefinitely. And Malfoy Junior isn't the slick one like Lucius Malfoy. It'll work."

Dumbledore was frowning. "I have often said that I do not like to have my students expelled--"

"Malfoy nearly expelled Harry Potter a few years ago with the Chamber incident," said Percy. "Now we'll do the same for his son."

Snape nearly smiled. "Weasley, you should have been in Slytherin."

From Snape, perhaps, that was the highest compliment Percy could hope to get. "The Sorting Hat nearly put me in Slytherin," he replied, "but I told it that my parents would have heart attacks. So I went to Gryffindor."

"Pity," said Snape.

Amelia Bones was frowning. "Your 'scenario' is a good one, Percy. The Minister will sign the suspension, but when it passes the muster of the Wizengamot--"

"It won't," Percy said. "The Wizengamot adjourns in a week. After that, you can pass the suspension as necessary in wartime. You enforce the law, Mrs Bones, but I understand it." He did too; he had studied every little nuance and loophole in the law before he came into the Ministry. "I've studied the wizarding law for a time, and I've also been thinking about changes to the legalities of a trial."

Amelia Bones, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore all fixed Percy with stares. "Go on," said Dumbledore.

"In 1981," said Percy, "those Death Eaters claiming to be under the Imperius Curse got off easily because of loopholes in the law. I've been researching those trials since--my job gives me clearance to sensitive information--and I've been working on changes that will close the loopholes. However, for the time being, the Death Eaters captured in the Department of Mysteries a month ago can be tried on a strictly military tribunal type of way."

"Military tribunal?" echoed Amelia Bones.

"Military tribunals are somewhat more biased against the defendants."

"Biased?" said Snape, looking at Percy very appraisingly.

Percy smiled.

Snape smiled too. "You, Weasley," he said, "unlike your siblings, have the makings of a spy in you."

"That's why I am one," replied Percy.

Amelia Bones and Professor Dumbledore hadn't noticed their small conversation. The two of them were conferring on possible improvements in Hogwarts security. "I would rather not have Draco Malfoy arrested..." the Headmaster was saying.

"What about Harry?" asked Percy. "You're going to have to do something about him. He's still like the little black ship waving a little flag that says, 'I am a rock, I am alone,' and ships like that crash sooner or later. And for Harry, that means enemy fire."

"From a man-of-war, yes," said Snape.

"Never knew you knew Muggle naval history," said Percy.

"I read," said Snape.

~

After the meeting in Dumbledore's office, Percy and Professor Snape sat in a Muggle café in London, drinking cappuccino with several shots of espresso and whipped cream on top.

Their Glamour Charms were working at least, thought Percy. It wouldn't do for Snape to be caught out here in Muggle London, so Snape's glamour was a nondescript brown-haired man. Percy had changed his red hair to blond, and charmed away his freckles.

"You do recall, Weasley," said Snape quietly, "what I said about spying."

"Yes," said Percy; and waited. Snape had not told him why he wanted to talk to him, but he had a good inkling as to the reason.

Snape leaned forward, lowering his voice even further, so as to not be heard--which wasn't hard, considering the noise in the café. At the next table several younger girls were giggling over some movie star. Those giggles were loud enough to obscure everything else. But just to be safe, Percy pulled out his wand and murmured an attention-deflecting charm.

"In the Dark Lord's view, I am his longest-living spy and the best. Owing to quite a few scams and double bluffs, but that comes later. Recently, he's asked me to begin recruiting new spies."

"And you want me to be a double agent," said Percy. His skin whitened, and he grew tenser. But then he relaxed; and smiled. "I am quite highly placed, after all."

"Exactly," said Snape. "News has already travelled around--very publicised, in fact--about the rift between you and your family and your quick rise in the Ministry. The Death Eaters honestly think you purposely turned away from your family to go along with the Ministry. They think you're ambitious to join them. In fact, Voldemort expressly wanted me to talk to you about it. If you refused, then an Imperius Curse."

Percy's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Really?" he said, and nothing more.

"I've already talked to Professor Dumbledore about it. He says it will depend on you. If you agree to be Voldemort's supposed spy, it will be more dangerous, but with the Imperius Curse, he will occasionally check to make sure it is there. Which means you will really have to be under one."

"I'll be a spy any day, thanks," muttered Percy. "I'm not going to go insane like Mr Crouch." He paused. "Isn't there any way out of it? I didn't expect that when I became an Order spy in the Ministry."

Snape shook his head and looked at Percy. He smirked bitterly. "What the Dark Lord wants, he gets."

"Just like teenage girls," said Percy ruefully. "I wish they'd shut up." He motioned toward the giggling teenage girls. Then he bit into a jam doughnut, squirting juice onto his face. Grimacing, he wiped it away with a napkin.

Snape looked somewhat amused. "I thought you were above hormonal impulses, Weasley," was his tart reply. "Don't make me doubt you."

"Of course not," said Percy. "And by the way, you will make clear to Voldemort that I won't have information from the Order, because of the family... rift."

"I shall make it as clear as possible, hopefully not like Longbottom's sorrowful attempts in my class."

Percy laughed. Despite Ron and Harry's constant complaints about Professor Snape, Percy had always managed to enjoy Snape's acerbic wit, especially because it was never really pointed at him, and he had done fairly well in Potions. On the other hand, he had heard plenty of stories about Snape's mistreatment of Harry in class.

Snape could really hold grudges. Better old debts than old grudges, thought Percy, thinking of an old Irish proverb he had once read.

"You probably won't have Longbottom this year though, Professor," he said to Snape. "Poor Neville's so terrified of you, and what with all those explosions... I suppose that his purchases must make up more than half of caldron revenues each year. Why do you do that?"

"Because Longbottom is so firmly convinced that he's not good at magic that it's insulting," replied Snape. "And to give everyone a taste of what a Death Eater is like."

Percy shook his head. "We've already had enough of that."

"I'm quite sure you have."

"Seven years is enough for me."

"Well, you'll be stuck with a few more years until Voldemort is gone."

Percy groaned theatrically. "I don't relish the thought. Is there anyone else in our...," he paused, "... espionage group?"

"You," said Snape. "Me. Theodore Nott. That's all. Three people, playing double agents. And the information can change everything. I'm in the Inner Circle, so he shares classified information, though not always. As you're in the Ministry, if anything needs to be arranged, he will probably alert you. And Theodore has a knack for eavesdropping."

"So Slytherin," said Percy.

"The whole war's Slytherin to the bone," said Snape. He stood up. "I need to return to Hogwarts to prepare my lessons."

"You will give my answer to Voldemort, then?"

"Not yet," said Snape. "I'll be taking you through the lessons of staying alive as a spy."

"What about Theodore Nott?"

"He's only a listener."

"But is he trustworthy?"

"I used Legilimency on him, he's trustworthy."

"Good," said Percy briskly. "When shall I meet you?"

"When do you leave work?"

"Around six o'clock in the evening. Then I Floo to my flat and do nothing."

"Tonight, Floo to my office. Say the destination quietly, under your breath--"

"I always do that."

"--good, then. Floo to my office, then wait. I will provide some information for you that will no doubt prove helpful."

"Make the appointment tomorrow. I need to finish my work today, and since I took off from work this morning, there will be a load to do in the afternoon and night."

"Fine. Tomorrow. At six. Remember."

Percy met Professor Snape's fathomless black eyes, which held a spark of warning in them. He said, "Professor, of course I'll remember. How else did I become Head Boy if I didn't remember appointments?"

Snape's mouth quirked up; then he turned and strode away to find a suitable place to Disapparate.

~

23 July 1996

The next day, when Percy arrived back at the office after lunch, he found Ron and Ginny sitting in the lounge, waiting.

He was, needless to say, quite surprised.

"Ron! Ginny! What are you two doing here?"

"We're here to talk to you," said Ginny firmly.

"Come into the office," said Percy.

His younger siblings followed Percy into his small office as the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. Percy sat down at his desk, indicated for Ron and Ginny to do likewise in the guest chairs, and set about organising his papers, exuding the appearance 'you know that I'm busy, so don't waste time.'

"Well?" he asked in the stiffest voice he could manage.

"We've come here for an apology," said Ron promptly.

"An apology?" Percy stopped checking the papers and stared at them. Not much subtlety, apparently. And somewhat... presumptuous.

"Yes, an apology," said Ginny. "Last year, you went along with the Ministry and broke off from the family. But we turned out to be right. Mum's been waiting for you to come back to the Burrow, but you haven't. Are you still going to stay away from us?"

"I thought she would be pleased," said Percy. "She always wanted me to do well in the Ministry." There was a faintly ironic tone in his voice.

"But to leave the Burrow--Percy, you even sent back the Weasley jumper for Christmas! What's happened to you?"

"What happened to me was you," said Percy cryptically, and put a paper from the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the 'send to Minister' pile.

"What?"

"Well, I supposed it really helped my family loyalty when you constantly laughed at me."

"Percy," Ron began, "couldn't you tell we were joking--"

"But it was always pointed at me, wasn't it? Perfect Percy, Prefect Percy. No one ever went against Fred and George, did they? No, they're cool. Bill breaks curses, Charlie takes care of dragons. What about Percy? Oh, he just pushes around paper at the Ministry," Percy said, making sure to sound as bitter as he could. "Go away."

"Percy!" Ginny cried.

"And Harry--he always wants the attention--"

"Shut up!" yelled Ron, surging to his feet. "Don't you say anything about Harry! You--"

"Harry saved my life," said Ginny softly.

"Oh, so I was wrong by following directions and going to the common room?" Percy snapped back. He slipped into his role as easily as oiling gears--something, he thought, his father had liked to do with Muggle machines. He still retained an image in his mind, of the time when his father had once again been fiddling with the Ford Anglia and had nearly set it on fire.

"No!" said Ginny. "But, well, Harry is a Parselmouth, so only he could open the Chamber--"

"Hooray for him," said Percy dryly.

"--and Percy, Fred and George were just joking--"

"And," said Percy, "being bullies while they were at it."

"Oh yeah?" snapped Ron. "And you kept droning on about caldron bottoms? What do you think we'd prefer?"

Percy looked back down at the papers littering his desk and continued sorting through them. He put a letter containing a furious tirade on the Ministry's incompetence into the pile marked 'to be incinerated'--those letters never improved Fudge's confidence, which was sliding downhill and only propped by Percy's assurances. But then Dumbledore had told Percy that the Wizengamot might soon vote on electing a new Minister unless it adjourned early, which only meant an ignominious end for poor, unfortunate, manipulated Cornelius Fudge. "Well," he said coldly, "I only tried to follow what Mum always wanted. Why don't you go back to the Burrow and ask Mum? She always wanted one of us to go into the Ministry. And what else was there for me?" he continued, "It was always Bill and Charlie, Fred and George, Ron and Ginny. I was always the odd one out. You think I liked that?"

Ron and Ginny gaped at him. Ron recovered first, and retorted, "Well, what about that letter you sent me last year, telling me Harry was insane? We don't just abandon friends like that!" Ron, Percy noticed, had skirted Percy's question.

"If you had enough subtlety in your brain," Percy replied, putting just the right amount of anger in his words, "you would have realised that you shouldn't have been so up and centre about everything. Your Dumbledore's Army--wonderful way to get members by advertising its existence in the Hog's Head! No wonder Umbridge caught Harry in the act! You're lucky that you two got off scot-free! It was only damage control by Dumbledore that saved precious Harry! Everyone's favourite! And then," Percy's voice shook--to Ron and Ginny, it must have seemed like anger, but Percy knew it was the strain of having to yell--"he goes barging into the Ministry--to the Department of Mysteries, of all places--and creates a huge mess--"

"It was the Death Eaters!" yelled Ginny. Her voice was amazingly shrill. By now, my colleagues must have heard this, Percy thought. Better for my reputation as being angry against my family. Voldemort will be salivating at the mouth when he thinks about the information that I'm supposed to be able to give to him.

"I don't care!"

"What about the people who got hurt?" Ron fired back. "Ginny and I! And Hermione--you always liked her! And the Aurors that got hurt and landed in St. Mungo's! You don't care, do you! You don't care! What about Sir--" His diatribe suddenly came to a sputtering halt, as Ron nearly choked on his words. His face was red, beetroot red.

Percy knew what Ron had been about to say. Dumbledore had already told him about Sirius Black's innocence and death (owing to lack of evidence--the captured Death Eaters didn't help, as Pettigrew's treachery hadn't been advertised throughout the terrorist organisation very much at all--his name hadn't been cleared). But Percy wasn't about to advertise the fact that he did know the information. His eyes flickered to Ron and Ginny to see if they had caught anything in his demeanour. They hadn't. Good. Knowing his family's penchant for blurting out everything, their suspicions could shatter his well-constructed 'I resent my family and Dumbledore and Harry Potter' persona in an instant.

Ron had recovered. Ginny said, her voice more soft now, "Percy, all we're asking is an apology for what you did. Mum and Dad went to pieces. Just come back to the family--"

"And I do the making up?" said Percy. "The reconciliation, because it's my fault? Well, I can't really come back to the family, since I was never part of it! You always treated me like something to scorn instead of your own brother! After I tried to protect you from Fred and George embarrassing you your first year, you turn around and do it to me?"

Ginny flinched back from Percy's retort.

Ron said nothing. Instead, he stared at the ground, the tips of his ears flushing red with anger.

Ginny said quietly, "I suppose there's no convincing you, is there?"

Percy looked through his tortoise-shell frame glasses down at Ron and Ginny. "Leave."

Ron looked up and all his anger came bursting out. "Well, then, if that's the case, then I'm telling you to sod off, Percy!"

"All right," said Percy calmly, putting a twist of sarcasm into his words, "I've already done that." And he made a show of turning his attention back to the pile of papers on his mahogany wood desk. After a few seconds, he looked up again. Footsteps moving away quickly announced Ron and Ginny's departure.

"Weasley, hard much?" asked a voice.

Percy looked up to see Jonathan Wilkins looking at him with vague astonishment. Wilkins asked again, "Weren't you too hard on them? They're your own family."

"Really?" Percy said as icily as he could manage. "I wasn't aware of that." And he turned his face back down to avoid seeing the look of shock on Wilkins's face that might make him feel guilty about his role.

He knew it hurt his family. It twisted his own heart ever slightly every time he rebuffed his family's advances. But it was necessary, and Percy Weasley could be ruthless when necessary. A trait that often served him well.

~

Hermione asked Ron at dinner how the meeting with Percy had gone. Ron snapped, "That backstabbing traitor! He should have gone to Slytherin!"

"Surprisingly enough, Mr Weasley, I must say I agree with you, as shocking as it may seem to you," said Professor Snape behind him. Ron yelped.

Professor Snape swept past them to the fireplace, threw some Floo powder, and muttered something under his breath. Then the Potions professor walked into the fire and disappeared.

From the dinner table, Ginny frowned. What had Snape meant by that?

She watched Ron as he outlined to Hermione exactly how horrible Percy had been. When they had told Mum and Dad, Mum had burst into tears. Dad had turned away, a look of resignation on his face. Percy, she thought, how could you be so cruel?

She said the same as much to Professor Lupin later, as they were sitting on the stairs. She leaned her head against his shoulder, still talking. "...And then he started really yelling at us. Merlin, I never knew he could be so spiteful."

Remus remained silent (he had asked them to call him Remus). Ginny liked that Remus was a good listener. He never said anything, but you had the feeling he sympathised with you.

"And he was talking about Harry and how he was an attention-seeker, and... It's like I've lost a brother! He's turned into a complete stranger!"

Remus looked at her. Weary brown eyes conveyed the appearance of a bitter smile. He said, "That's only the beginning, you know."

"What?" Whatever Ginny had been expecting from Remus, this wasn't it.

"Everyone loses something in wars," said Remus. "Your parents did. Molly lost her brothers. Arthur did too. It's worse for me, since I'm a werewolf--"

"What do you mean?" Ginny broke in.

Remus sighed. He sat up straighter and began counting on his fingers. "My parents. James. Lily. Peter's as good as dead when he betrayed us. My job at Hogwarts, when Severus told the Great Hall what I was. Sirius." There was a strange lack of emotion in Remus's voice that made Ginny look at him more closely. His parents, his friends, his job... Good grief, is he ever going to have a moment of joy in his life? "I'm sorry," she said.

Remus said, "You don't need to be. I'm--I'm used to it."

They sat in silence on the stairs, ruminating over what Fate seemed to like to do to their lives, until Tonks broke the silence, as she called down to them from above, "Remus! Ginny! Can you help me get into the attic?"

Ginny and Remus both rose to their feet and loped up the stairs. Tonks was at the top. Her present appearance was short, chin-length brown hair, a somewhat pointy chin along with high cheekbones, and an inquisitive expression on her face. "What's the matter? You two look gloomy."

Ginny managed a weak smile for Tonks. "Just thinking, that's all."

Tonks looked at them closely, but didn't comment on Ginny's answer. "I need to get into the attic to see if there's anything we could use up there. Could you help? I don't want to blast the door open with a Reductor Curse, but it's stuck tight."

They walked down the dark hallway. As they came to the attic door, Tonks said to Remus, "So, Professor, what do you propose?"

A vague smile appeared on Remus's face. He said, "I don't think we should apply too much pressure to the side with the hinges. Look. Here's the side with the doorknob--you go there. Ginny, go to the other end. And Tonks, I'll help push here. And one, two... three!"

The attic door burst open. Ginny careened into a table, taking a blow to her head that made her see stars going around and around. As her vision cleared, she saw Tonks and Remus lying on the floor. Tonks sat up, her face red and dusty. She said flatly, "That hurt."

Remus rubbed his head and sat up more slowly. He still looked somewhat dazed and said, "I think I got a concussion."

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked Remus.

"Fine, fine." Remus waved off Ginny's doubts. "Now let's look around. Lumos!"

Tonks and Ginny did the same. The combined glow from their wands managed to light up the attic a little, illuminating broken furniture, several portraits on the wall (Ginny made a mental note to check those), and plenty of cobwebs, enough to make Molly Weasley scream in horror.

It was quite a difference to the rooms at 12 Grimmauld Place that Mum had literally scoured clean, Ginny thought.

Remus was looking through a bookcase. Tonks was opening a chest. "What in the--just when did the Blacks keep Renaissance-style clothes up here?"

"Since forever," came a voice from... Ginny whirled around and looked at one of the portraits. "And may I ask who is trespassing here?"

Remus lowered his wand. "Sirius?" he asked almost hopefully.

"Sirius?" said the portrait. "No, I'm not Sirius. I'm Regulus."

"Who?" asked Ginny. "Regulus Black?" Sirius's brother?

"Yes, yes. I did exist, you know."

Remus walked over to the portrait and brushed some dust off of it. "And," he said mildly, "just why did Phineas Nigellus not tell us about you?"

"Old grouchy Phineas doesn't come up here," was the cheeky reply. "Says it's too dusty. I was painted a month before I died."

"Oh," said Ginny politely. There wasn't much else to say.

"I don't regret it though," said Regulus darkly. "I'd rather be dead than be in Azkaban. I was a Death Eater, after all. The Dark Lord killed me, because I was a turncoat. And for a few other things, some, er... insignificant things."

Ginny had the feeling that Regulus was hiding something and not speaking of it.

Remus had been struggling with the portrait and trying to get it down from the wall. He finally succeeded, and brought it out where they could see it more clearly.

Ginny looked closely at the portrait. Regulus Black seemed to look exactly like Sirius: handsome, charming, and with a daredevil streak in him. His hair was trimmed fashionably short, and the wizard hat jauntily perched on his head fit him and his aristocratic features--which seemed like something a classical sculptor might make--as a woven silver chain mail helmet might have done. He wore robes with a Slytherin badge, and looked to be nearing twenty. In the prime of his youth, Ginny thought, and Voldemort killed him.

"And just how did you get here, Remus?" Regulus continued. "Mother wouldn't have let you in here."

"Your mum's dead," said Remus in some surprise. "When did you get put up here?"

"Right after I died," said Regulus. "So I don't know a thing about what's happening. Mum spelled the portrait so I couldn't move around--suppose she didn't want to see my face after I died, from grief. She was always one for that. How is Sirius?"

"He's dead," said Tonks. Her lips compressed into a thin line. "We'd rather not talk about it."

Regulus was silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke.

"And who are you?" Regulus responded. He grimaced, and pulled at the tight collar around his neck.

"It's Nymphadora," said Remus. "You know, Andromeda's daughter...?"

"Dora!" Regulus exclaimed with surprise. "Wonderful to see you! Considering I never actually saw you, but family's family, I suppose. Is the Dark Lord still alive and killing people?"

Ginny frowned. There was a degree of humour to Regulus Black's voice that she found somewhat inappropriate, owing to how serious the Voldemort situation was. Or was it sarcasm?

Remus looked askance at Regulus. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

"Hey, hey." Regulus held up both his hands. "I've been stuck up here forever as nineteen, so don't blame me for not knowing."

Tonks sighed. "Bring him down. Since he was a Death Eater, we can get some information out of him."

"I don't like the tone in your voice," said Regulus suspiciously.

"Don't worry," said Ginny impatiently. "It's not like we're going to set you on fire, though I'd like to do that to your insane mother."

Regulus looked at Ginny. "You're a Weasley, aren't you? Red hair, freckles... you're quite pretty, you know."

Ginny blushed red to the roots of her hair. Plenty of people had said that, but not someone like a handsome dead Death Eater. "I'm Ginny. My real name's Ginevra, but everyone calls me Ginny."

"Pleased to meet you, gorgeous," said Regulus flatteringly, winking at her. Remus laughed and said, "Stop it. You Blacks are all the same, trying to seduce young girls."

"Not just that! We're also well known for, uh...Muggle-hunting."

"That," said Tonks severely, "is not a laughing matter."

"It was the first thing that came to my mind," Regulus said, and shrugged.

"Enough with the banter," said Ginny. "Spill."

"Pardon?" Regulus blinked at Ginny.

"Spill the information. You were a Death Eater, what do you know?"

"Not much, and I wouldn't tell a fifteen-year-old girl either," said Regulus petulantly. "I was a novice, after all. I was only in the Death Eaters for about a little less than a year."

"A year is enough time," Ginny said.

"You're rough, Weasley, you know that? I did eavesdrop around a little bit..."

"And?" Remus broke in. "The war's just beginning to heat up again, and Voldemort's got the Dementors after our blood, and most of the werewolves--"

"But you're one, and you aren't," said Regulus. Then he frowned. "Er, did that make sense to you? It did to me, but I don't know if it did to you."

"How did you know I was a werewolf?"

"Eavesdropping," said Regulus complacently. "Heard it from some whinging little brat telling the Dark Lord just before I died. Kept whimpering and shaking all the time. I take it the Dark Lord didn't like him. Called him Wormtail."

"What?"

"He was a spy," Regulus went on. "Though no-one knew his actual name, except for some in the Inner Circle. Let me think..."

Ginny leaned over to Remus and whispered harshly in his ear, "Can we trust him?"

"Yes," Remus murmured. "I'm using Legilimency to check. All true."

"All right."

"I don't know his name," said Regulus finally. "Never heard it."

Tonks and Remus exchanged glances. "We're bringing you down," Remus finally said. "You," he said approvingly, "are going to be a damn good source of information when we finally pick your brains clean."

Regulus looked startled. Ginny realised that it was the first time she had ever heard Remus swear.

"Er--but I don't even know that much--" Regulus began to stutter.

"Save it for later when we haul you to Dumbledore," said Tonks cheerfully. "We'll ask him to check into the testimony of portraits and if it's valid. If so, we'll have most of the cases pending won. You do know who most of the Death Eaters were, right?"

Regulus snorted and rolled his eyes. "Come now. You think I wouldn't? Blacks like to keep track of information. I've got facts that will make Professor Dumbledore chipper as a third year on a Cheering Charm."

Ginny frowned. Regulus Black certainly had a way with words. First he had said he didn't know much, now this?

The others did not seem to have noticed the discrepancies. "Good," said Tonks, her voice sounding very professional. "Bring him downstairs."

~

24 July 1996

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Head of the International Confederation of Wizards, Head of the Order of the Phoenix, and the embodiment of wizardly eccentricity, steepled his fingers on his desk and said to Percy Weasley, "I would like you to look into the validity of a portrait's testimony."

"Why's that?" Percy batted an eyelash, but not much else showed his surprise. Then again, Dumbledore was famed for strange requests. And Percy had heard enough of them.

"Your sister, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks found a portrait of Regulus Black in the headquarters attic," said Dumbledore. "He turned about a year before Voldemort's defeat, and was killed for that. Evidently, he has some potentially useful information from his time as a Death Eater."

"And you hope his testimony can be used in the Death Eaters' trials," Percy said, phrasing his question into a statement.

Dumbledore nodded. "Quite correct. If you have the time...?"

"Count on me," said Percy.

"Don't forget," Dumbledore said. "I have an appointment with the Minister this afternoon. At one-thirty."

As he rose from the comfy armchair and Flooed back to his office--damn it, the meeting had spent a good ten minutes of his free period, from twelve to one--Percy reflected on his new assignment. As an Undersecretary, he had enough clout and a good enough reputation for studiousness that would not raise eyebrows if he went to the Ministry library, but that on top of his regular secretarial work and his Occlumency lessons with Snape...

... Snape looked as formidable as ever as he sat in his office. Percy said, "Occlumency?"

"The Dark Lord," said Snape smoothly, "is a master--I mean this quite literally, a master--at Legilimency. If you do not learn Occlumency, your spying career will fail the first time you meet him. And not just Occlumency--you must also learn to project an impression over the Occlumency shields that he cannot penetrate. In effect, a shield over a shield."

Percy gaped at him. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Close your mouth," Snape said irritably. "Your expression is laughable."

Percy closed his mouth.

"You can do it," said Snape, "because I was able to do it. For more than a decade," he added. "And the Dark Lord considers me one of his most loyal followers."

Percy thought he had nearly detected a hint of smugness in Snape's usually sardonic voice. Complacency at having survived so long, perhaps?

He can afford it, thought Percy. I can't.

"Sure, sure," Percy said aloud. "So, shall we start?"

Snape did not answer; instead, he pulled his wand out of his robes and said, enunciating each syllable clearly and crisply, "Legilimens!"

Percy felt a flood of magic drive into his mind, poking into every crevice, nook and cranny. Summoning up all his force, he tried to imagine shields--made of dragon hide, he thought humorously--around his mind. Push back, he reminded himself. The flood of memories passing before his eyes abruptly ceased. Snape lowered his wand. "Not bad, Weasley," he said without emotion, before adding, lips curled into a sneer, "Much better than Potter, at any rate."

"Harry was learning Occlumency too?"

"Learning," said Snape, "is too good a word for Potter's pathetic attempts. He could no more learn Occlumency than he could get an O on his Potions OWL."

"Of course," said Percy hastily, who did not need a tirade on Harry's shortcomings from Snape at the moment. "Let's continue."

"Legilimens!"

Jonathan Wilkins came into Percy's office. On the lower rungs of the Ministry's secretarial ladder, his attitude to Percy, formerly admiring (owing to Percy's swift ascent), had now cooled after Percy's spat with Ron and Ginny. He evidently thought that Percy had been too harsh on his family. At this rate, I'm not going to be very popular with my co-workers, thought Percy. But it's all for the Cause. Note: capitalized 'c.' That's just how important it is. Or unimportant. It all depends on the people supporting it. Like me.

"I'm done sorting through the newspaper clippings," Wilkins said bluntly. Wilkins's job--so much easier than Percy's, Percy thought ruefully--was to sort through every newspaper in wizarding Britain, pick out articles and clippings he deemed important enough for the Minister of Magic himself to read, and deliver those aforementioned articles to Percy's desk, where they would be sent on to Fudge's desk. Usually, Fudge was prone to skim over the articles and ignore them. Although, Percy knew, he had not been able to ignore Harry's interview in the Quibbler last year.

"Good. Thank you." Percy picked up the large pile of newspapers and flattened it out. Wilkins turned away and left the office.

The first headline on the top of the stack was from the Daily Prophet. "Ministry Dismissal of Dementors from Azkaban" blared the flashy headlines. Percy adjusted his glasses.

Ministry Dismissal of Dementors from Azkaban

London: Daily Prophet correspondent John Stewart

As long as anyone can remember, Dementors have guarded the infamous wizarding prison of Azkaban. However, now it seems as if the status quo is no longer.

Yesterday, the Ministry announced that it has pulled the Dementors out of Azkaban and has relocated them to an undisclosed location. Says Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: "When we considered the long history of Dementors consorting with Dark Wizards--and, indeed, their cooperation with You-Know-Who more than a decade ago--it seems best for the security of Azkaban if they were removed. Otherwise, the Death Eaters that were captured in the raid on the Department of Mysteries may have had the Dementors help them to escape."

One may remember that the Ministry has cooperated with Dementors since Seclusion. Yet in answer to queries about the Ministry's sudden turn-around, the Minister offers, "No comment."

It remains to be seen whether the dismissal of the Dementors will be helpful, or detrimental, to us as the threat of a returned You-Know-Who grows.

However, one Auror who refused to be named says, "After Seclusion, the wizarding world made a pact with the Dementors as part of the civil justice system. But what did the Dementors want? Just like Mephistopheles wanted from Faust? To be honest, they definitely want our souls, and I, personally, am glad that Dementors have been locked up and the key thrown away."

Percy unconsciously nodded in agreement. "Very true," he muttered to himself. He had read von Goethe's Faust when he visited Ottery St. Catchpole's Muggle library, and had found the devil eerily similar to the Dementors. When he told his dad, Arthur Weasley had, very emphatically, agreed, and patted Percy on the head.

Now those were the days he missed. Last year, having to break off ties with his family... he remembered his father's face as he came home after a quick meeting with Dumbledore, loudly proclaiming his promotion, acting gratified and smug, before his father flatly told him it was for other reasons besides his hard work. Upon which Percy had the excellent opportunity to burst out in anger.

The letter, too. When he had heard that Ron had been made prefect, he had taken the time to write a wonderfully congratulatory letter, with plenty of warnings to boot. "Listen to Umbridge." "Break ties with Harry." "The Ministry is taking control of Hogwarts." For Ron, he knew, it would be an inflammatory letter and not much else, but perhaps Hermione could at least pick up the truths in his letter.

Truths that were made devastatingly clear some weeks after the catastrophic events of the Third Task at the Triwizard Tournament.

Dumbledore was sitting placidly in his chair when Percy came tumbling out of the fire. As Percy stood up and tried to make himself look more composed, Dumbledore smiled at him--twinkled at him, literally--and said cheerfully, "A sherbet lemon, Percy?"

"No thanks, Professor," replied Percy as he sat down. "What did you want to see me about?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips and frowned. "You have heard about what happened at the Triwizard Tournament."

Percy nodded. "Cedric died and Voldemort came back, except the Minister doesn't think so."/p>

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Quite correct, Percy. And you must have heard that I've been sacked from the Wizengamot."

"I have." Percy fidgeted in his chair. Secretly, he still thought Harry was right, but he couldn't say so for fear of losing his job; his position was already precarious in the Ministry after the Crouch debacle, he didn't need to aggravate the situation.

Dumbledore sighed. "Then you know that as I am not in the position to oversee the Ministry any longer, Minister Fudge is freely spreading the news that I'm not quite right in the head and Harry is a rumour-monger."

"True," Percy said. Just what was Dumbledore getting at?

"After the incident with Mr Crouch," Percy winced at this, "I believe that you have attracted the attention of some people in the Ministry."

Percy frowned. "Such as?"

"Pureblood supremacists and Death Eaters," Dumbledore said seriously. "I am sure you know who I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Percy. "And you're implying that they're feeling me out, seeing what I'll do."

"Very much the case," said Dumbledore. "If you oppose the Ministry now, you may get shunted into a dead-end position, or perhaps lose your job. On the other hand," here Dumbledore paused for effect, "if you support the Ministry, you must admit that you make yourself irresistibly attractive to Death Eaters, especially since after Mr Crouch, they think you can be manipulated. Exploited."

"And you're warning me," said Percy. "I see. You wish me to publicly support the Ministry and make them feel that I am a mere pawn, to be controlled. Then I can listen in on conversations and help you in your manoeuvrings against the Ministry." He stopped his rambling and looked at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked startled. Percy grinned. "You're not the only one with a thing for politics, Professor. And it'll work for me--everyone knows just how much I want to make it in the Ministry."

An amused look appeared on Dumbledore's face. "My, my, Percy. You're a good thinker, aren't you?"

Percy shifted in his seat. "I always wanted to go into politics," he confessed sheepishly. "Or something like that. I once wanted to be Minister of Magic, although that didn't work out well. I wanted it to be exciting."

"Well, you can do so now," said Dumbledore magnanimously. "If you support the Ministry it will be tantamount to volunteering for exploitation, as I'm afraid the Minister has done. There is a group I formed, called the Order of the Phoenix, to fight and undermine Voldemort's aims right now. Unfortunately, Voldemort has taken full advantage of the Ministry's denial to keep his head down and gather his forces together. I am sure he has some spies and moles in the Ministry. If you could look around a bit..."

"I'll be more than happy too," said Percy. "This will be interesting." It wasn't just interesting for Percy--it was the most exciting thing he'd probably ever done in his life. At any rate, it was much more exhilarating than the regulations on flying carpets. Really, Minister Crouch had told the Saudis time and time again that the flying carpets were too dangerous and prone to accidents, and that British regulations would not allow it.

"It will also be dangerous," Dumbledore warned. "Spying is a dangerous thing."

"Don't worry," Percy said in the most serious voice he could manage. "If I need help, I'll ask Professor Snape every once in a while."

Dumbledore gave him a look with the sense of 'this is no joking matter.'

"Really, I'll do it," added Percy. "I'm in the perfect position to go undercover. If I oppose the Ministry, I'll just get sacked, which won't help anyone, so I'd rather support the Ministry. I mean, aw, well, might as well do something for the cause. And my family's always going to think I care only about caldron bottoms, so I can do it at the Ministry plausibly enough."

Dumbledore sent a twinkle Percy's way that was bright enough to light up the office, and provide enough electricity for the city of London too, Percy noted in amusement.. "Thank you, Percy. I appreciate your effort. All you have to do now is to have a public falling-out with the family, move out, and take it from there. I apologise if this is an inconvenience--doing it may be painful."

"Yes, Professor," Percy said. "I can do it--I was wondering a moment ago what I was going to do anyway about my Ministry career."

As Percy stood up, Dumbledore suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a Chocolate Frog card. "If you agree to join the Order," Dumbledore said solemnly, "you'll need this."

Percy looked at the card. It was a Dumbledore card. "Communications," said Dumbledore, in response to Percy's unasked question. "Say my name, and I will be contacted. After you have publicly cut yourself off from your family, I will find another Ministry contact for you. Communicate with me after the incident. I'm afraid I can't tell you where the Order headquarters are--"

"I don't need to know that," Percy said, puzzled. "I'm a spy, I don't need to pop in and out of an abandoned warehouse."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good then, Percy. You are sure you can handle this...?"

"Yes, yes," Percy said impatiently. He needed to get back to the Burrow before his mum began getting worried--it was nearing six-fifteen, a full fifteen minutes after his usual departure from the Ministry (Dumbledore had owled him earlier in the day, asking to see him after work).

Dumbledore smiled, and voiced a very Muggle sentiment (typical of him, Percy thought). "Godspeed, Percy, and good luck."

Dumbledore's good luck to Percy must have been very effective, because, oddly enough, the next evening, Percy received a wonderful reason for a spat with his family. As he was just about to leave his office, a purple paper airplane flew in and hit Percy lightly in the head.

"Ow!" Percy glared murderously at the offending article. "Watch it!"

The paper airplane only tapped him again on the side of his head. Hard.

Percy snatched the paper out of the air and unfolded it, ripping it in a corner (although he didn't particularly care about that). He stared in astonishment at the memo in his hands.

TO: Percy Weasley

FROM: Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

SUBJECT: Promotion

I am proud to tell you, Mr Weasley, that you have been chosen as my new Junior Undersecretary. I have heard much about your amazing capabilities and look forward to having you on my staff.

The signature "Cornelius Fudge" was signed with a flourish, and the official Ministry seal was stamped at the bottom. An oddly short memo.

The gears in Percy's brain were moving quickly. After the Crouch debacle, he knew, the last thing the Ministry would do would be to promote him to a top office job. So...

Percy nodded. Voldemort was making his first move, seeing how easily Percy could be manipulated. Merlin knew Fudge was taking the bait.

That was no problem. He'd make it as though he'd deliberately sold out. Only... here came the hard part.

Percy picked up his attaché case from his chair and headed out the door. At the end of the corridor, there was a large fireplace. He threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fire. As the flames flared green, he stepped into the fire and said loudly, "The Burrow!"

As the image of the neat Ministry offices swirled away, and the Burrow swirled into view, Percy was thinking quickly. Act happy, he knew, and be offended when Dad brings up the issue of it being because Fudge wants to know more about Dumbledore--

He stumbled out of the Weasley home fireplace, a big (fake) smile on his normally stern face, something that should make an impression on his family--this will be the last time I can be nice to them for a long while, he thought wistfully. He saw his father sitting at the kitchen table, looking somewhat tired and sipping at a cup of tea. Ron and Ginny were also there, playing a game of chess. Fred and George were just coming down the stairs. As for Bill and Charlie, they were probably out, still at their jobs.

"Dad!" Percy said breathlessly, in the most excited voice he could manage, "I've been promoted!"

Arthur Weasley turned a startled face toward Percy, disbelief evident in his voice. "You've been promoted?"

"Yes, promoted," Percy said, careful to retain the excitement in his voice. "Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic!"

The kitchen was silent. Fred and George had stopped at the foot of the stairs, staring at Percy. Ron and Ginny were ignoring the fact that their opposing chess pieces were randomly smashing each other, and both looked at Percy. Molly Weasley, halfway done with the treacle, stopped and turned around.

Percy was watching his father's face. "Junior Undersecretary? To the Minister of Magic?" his father asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Percy said happily. "Looks like my hard work paid off." He paused and looked around the room. "What's the matter with all of you?" he asked grumpily. "You'd think that a vampire had just entered the room, from looking at your faces."

"Are you sure it's because of your hard work, Percy?" Mr Weasley cautiously asked.

"Of course!" Percy hotly retorted. "What do you mean by that?"

From the look on Mr Weasley's face, Percy knew he had struck gold. A huge deposit of it, to boot.

His dad began, "Percy..."

"Percy!" the Minister called.

Percy jerked out of his chair. He stood up and entered the Minister's office through the side door. Fudge was seated there, along with Dumbledore. Oh, Merlin, I forgot about the appointment. The Minister of Magic looked distinctly perturbed at sitting across from a man that he had once wanted to arrest. Dumbledore looked distinctly unperturbed at sitting across from a man who had once wanted to arrest him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Could you sort through these, please?" the Minister asked, and gestured at some papers. "I'm in a conference with Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Yes, sir." Percy hastened to comply, and hurried out of the office. However, in his cramped office next door, he promptly dropped the papers on his desk and moved to cast an alarm spell that would notify him if anyone was approaching from the hall. Then he discreetly keyed on the magical intercom, activated the nearly invisible receiving device in his ear that caught the magic vibes travelling from the intercom to what he liked to call his 'hearing aid,' and listened to the voices filtering through.

It was a normal process. No one had ever said he couldn't eavesdrop on the Minister's conversations. In fact, when he had proposed it to Dumbledore, the headmaster had raised a white eyebrow in admiration, and agreed (That was how he had overheard a conversation between Lucius Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge--Fudge had been away--discussing how to discredit Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet. If nothing else, Percy had to admit that Lucius Malfoy was one smooth sharp--also evil, of course--operator.). Usually, Percy only activated the device (which automatically transferred the sounds from the intercom to his ear) while he was in the office. But now, with current events, perhaps it was better to keep it on all the time. Now, how to do that without making his eavesdropping a distraction to everyday life...

Fudge's voice sounded somewhat weak. "Come now, Albus. I can't do that. How the newspapers are going to howl about civil liberties--"

"Cornelius," said Dumbledore kindly, "the newspapers are too absorbed in the war to care whether or not you confiscate the property of Death Eaters. In fact, I rather think they would support you in that."

The Minister brightened. "You think so?"

"In the cases of those proven, yes."

Fudge sighed. Then, there was a sudden outburst. "Albus, what if I just resigned, right now, right here? I feel horrible, like a dupe for listening to Lucius Malfoy, so why don't I just resign?"

"Because," said Dumbledore in the most reasonable voice he could manage, "you still have to redeem yourself. You made a mistake last year--" Percy laughed softly at what Dumbledore called a mere 'mistake'--"but you'll just have to work harder this year to regain the advantage. The Department Heads have not yet turned against you. I've kept the Wizengamot from anything--"

"Thank you for that, Albus," said the Minister. "I'll do my best."

"You're welcome, Cornelius," Dumbledore said amiably. "Last year was just a simple misunderstanding, after all."

Dumbledore has the gift for the understatement, Percy thought.

"In the history books," Dumbledore continued in a calm, utterly friendly voice, "they may portray you as disbelieving in Voldemort's return, but once you believe it, I'm sure they will turn you into someone who is trying to undo all the damage done."

Percy could not help but smile. There was an eerie similarity between Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore: both were masters at manipulating poor Cornelius Fudge. Under Lucius Malfoy's directions, Fudge had avidly attacked Dumbledore for a year--before finding that his director was a criminal. Now, Dumbledore the puppeteer took care of Fudge the penitent puppet, and ensured that what Fudge did would not interfere with the Order--in effect, Fudge would do whatever Dumbledore asked him to do, no questions asked. A new Minister with a backbone might not be so yielding, which was the reason why Dumbledore had had the Wizengamot adjourn early: to avoid a vote on changing the Minister of Magic. Dumbledore, thought Percy, is a master at politics. In effect, Dumbledore was the Minister of Magic de facto, if not de jure. Percy, who liked, in his spare time, to read about Muggle political history, cheerfully compared Dumbledore and Fudge to Seward and Lincoln, except that Dumbledore had succeeded in manipulating Fudge, while Lincoln had turned the tables on Seward and manipulated Seward.

The political intrigue, so stimulating to Percy's brain, was something that he very much enjoyed about working in the Ministry.

Dumbledore was now bidding the Minister farewell. As light footsteps announced Dumbledore to the hallway, Percy turned off the 'hearing aid' in his ear and poked his head out the door. He looked at Dumbledore, who walked up to him.

"Good morning, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said jovially.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Percy said frigidly.

"You don't mind if I visit with you, do you?" Dumbledore asked.

Percy put on the annoyed face. "Why--why, no, not at all," he said in a strangled voice, and let Dumbledore in.

The moment Dumbledore was in, and the door closed, their brittle, stiff expressions vanished. Percy cast a Silencing Charm on the office, turned around, and smiled at Dumbledore. "Nice to see you, Professor," he said cheerfully. "Especially considering we just met a few hours ago. I must say, I completely forgot about your appointment."

"No harm done," said Dumbledore. He paused. "Are you almost done with your work here?"

"I still have some legislation to go through," Percy replied. "Another half hour, and then I'll go do the research. I'll need to pass it off as work, though, maybe something about wizarding law. I can't take time off, because everyone just knows that I love work. I'll complain if I don't have any and leave early."

Dumbledore smiled; the twinkle in his eye--such an annoying twinkle, Percy thought, not for the first time--intensified and shot up a notch in merriment. "You're doing a wonderful job, Percy. Do you know how invaluable you are to the Order?"

Considering he was the Order's top spy in the Ministry, Percy knew exactly how invaluable he was to the Order. "Yes, I do," he said. "But we shouldn't say anymore, or people will wonder why I'm spending such a while speaking with you, whom everyone knows I dislike. May I congratulate you, however, on a job well done?" Percy pointed toward the Minister's office.

Dumbledore looked as though he knew what Percy meant. He always did, thought Percy. "Why, I am flattered, Percy. Remember, though, the testimony of portraits in trials. I have enough strings--"

"Professor, I thought you had all of them," Percy murmured.

"--enough strings," said Dumbledore doggedly, pointedly ignoring Percy, "to pull in our favour. Regulus Black has already told us some devastating information--and I have not yet fully interrogated him--and I am sure that the Death Eaters, if his testimony is accepted, will easily be convicted."

Percy shook his head. "I'm not so sure about that. I think I remember reading somewhere that testimony of portraits is not accepted because the portrait is merely an imprint of the person, and supposedly," here, Percy rolled his eyes in exasperation, "since it's only an imprint, the portrait is supposed to not have good enough judgement for testimony.

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, just look it up, all right, Percy? We can always try." He cancelled Percy's silencing charm and raised his voice sufficiently enough to be heard next door. "I hope you'll consider it. Your mother and father are quite--" Dumbledore nodded to Percy.

On that cue, Percy interrupted Dumbledore. "I know quite well how my parents are doing," he said, a cold tone in his voice. "Good day, Headmaster."

Dumbledore left the office. Percy, beginning to feel drained by the day's work, stooped down and picked up the papers he had dropped on the floor.