Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter

Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter -- Episode 5, Somewhere in Between

Summary: It's the summer after OotP, and Percy Weasley is a man without a mission

Episode 5, Somewhere in Between

He really ought to have seen it coming.

For the first time in over a year, he felt somewhat like himself. Not just familiar, but better than he had in quite a long time. Percy had never put much stock in the idea that ‘pride goeth’ or any of that. However, simple observation over time had taught him that whenever something good happened, something bad was probably already on its way.

In this case, it wasn’t so much bad as it was complicated. But from where Percy sat these days, complicated was bad enough.

It was the last Sunday in August, the morning misty and already too hot. Percy sat in the kitchen debating whether he even ought to bother making tea. The very idea of steam in his enclosed flat made him start to sweat.

Despite the fact that it was before nine o’clock on a Sunday morning, someone knocked at his door. Percy was fairly certain he knew who it was. Actually, a nasty voice in his head reminded him, there were a very limited number of people that it could be these days. Percy ignored it and opened the door.

“Hullo, Percy,” Celia said, grinning at him. “Having a good morning?” She was flushed and sweaty, in trainers and running shorts, and clutching a bag from the bakery down the lane. “I was out for a run and thought I’d drop by with breakfast.”

Celia was very definitely a morning person, and Percy was very definitely not.

“You ran all this way? But your flat is absolute miles from here.”

“That’s the general idea, Percy,” she said, and headed for the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Percy started after her, closing the door without looking.

“Ow!”

The door handle collided with something soft and Percy turned back around to find Ginny, standing in the doorway and rubbing melodramatically at her elbow.

“That hurt, Percy. You hit me with the door,” she added reproachfully.

“Yes. I did notice,” he said, as she pushed past him into the flat. “What are you doing here so early? Why does everyone seem to think that I like getting up with the sun?”

“Percy? Who are you talking t-“ Celia started out of the kitchen but stopped short, catching sight of Ginny.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence in which Percy realized that both women were looking at him expectantly.

“Yes. Well.” He coughed. “I suppose it is about time you met the family, Celia. One piece of it, anyway.”

Celia just twisted a dishtowel around one wrist and raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is my sister Ginny. Ginny, this is a good friend of mine -- Celia Williams.”

“Uh… hi?” Ginny said.

“Hello,” Celia said, smiling at her. “There’s breakfast, if you want some.”

Ginny perked up noticeably. “Yes! Coffee?”

“Freshly brewed.” Celia held the door open while Ginny sped past. Percy followed, but Celia caught him by the arm. “I can leave if you prefer,” she said softly into his ear. “I know things with your family are strained just at the moment.”

Surprising himself, Percy laughed. “That is true. But not with Ginny. Not most of the time, at least,” he amended. “She’s the only one who doesn’t avoid me all together.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Ginny said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She pointed at herself with her free hand. “Teenager, not deaf.”

“Who can tell the difference, really?” he replied dryly, and Ginny gave him an evil look.

Celia laughed and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Because you’re such an old man, Percy.” She looked up at Ginny. “Was he born forty? Or is it a recent development?”

Ginny took a long drink of coffee and began piling a plate with kippers. “Well-“

“Don’t answer that,” Percy said. The last thing he wanted to discuss in front of Celia was his childhood relationships with his siblings. “And have a crumpet.”

Ginny gave him an odd look, but took the one he offered her.

“So, you’re here, uh, early,” she said to Celia, with just the slightest raise of her eyebrow.

“Celia stopped by with breakfast,” Percy replied firmly, determined to quash even the glimmer of impropriety.

“Oh,” Ginny said and sat, looking, if anything, a little disappointed in him.

Percy grabbed a plate of his own and soon they were all seated around the table, eating. Though he noticed that Celia only had coffee and half a crumpet, without jam or butter.

She caught him staring at her mostly-empty plate and said, a little too quickly, “I’m not on a diet or anything. I just like to eat light when I run, especially in the morning.”

Ginny nodded her agreement and Percy had the sudden sense that perhaps introducing these two to one another was not the smartest decision he’d made recently. If they ever ganged up on him, he’d be done for.

“I know what you mean,” Ginny said, gesturing with her crumpet. Melted butter splattered onto the tablecloth. “Before Quidditch practice, I hardly eat at all. And it’s even worse before a game.”

“Do you play on your House team?” Celia asked politely, sipping her coffee.

“Oh, yes,” Ginny said. “Everyone in the family plays.”

Celia looked up, questioningly, at Percy.

“Everyone except me,” Percy corrected, trying not to sound bitter.

“Oh.” Celia went slightly pink. Ginny, on the other hand, did not.

“How’s the drunk owl?” she asked instead, and Percy remembered, belatedly, that he’d mentioned giving Bailey to Celia.

“He’s not a drunk!” Celia said, somewhat defensively. “He’s just been depressed. Since he moved in with me, he’s been much improved. Half a thimble of wine with dinner, and maybe a little nip of port once a week -- nothing more.”

Percy looked down quickly, hiding a smile.

“He really just needs someone to be on his side, to let him know that they understand.” She paused. “There’s nothing wrong with Bailey that a little love and attention won’t fix.”

“If only it were as easy with people,” Ginny said, sounding uncharacteristically serious.

“If only,” Celia agreed.

And Percy suddenly discovered that he was very, very interested in the contents of his coffee cup.

“Anyway,” Ginny said, “I’d better get back before Hermione wakes up and discovers I’ve gone. She’ll lecture me until my ears bleed, if she finds out… Thanks for the breakfast, especially the coffee. We never have any.”

“Hermione is staying with you?” Percy asked, looking up. “I assume Harry is as well, then?”

Ginny chewed her lip, looking as though she was afraid she’d said something she shouldn’t. “Percy, I- I’m not really supposed to talk about Harry-stuff. With anyone!” she added quickly. “Not just you.”

“All right,” Percy said. “Just be careful. I know you like Harry-“

Ginny rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you people that I do not like Harry anym-“

“I meant,” Percy said, “as a friend. I know you like him, and so does Ron. But it worries me. Harry doesn’t always show the best judgment.”

She rolled her eyes again. “And nobody else in this room has ever been guilty of that.”

“I’m simply concerned about you, Ginny.”

“All right. Fine.” She sighed heavily. “We’ll all be careful. Happy?”

“No,” he said. “But it’s a start. And you shouldn’t sneak out, even to come here. Anything could happen.”

She smacked him on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Nice to meet you, Celia,” she called over her shoulder.

“You, too.” Celia shook her head. “Your sister is something else,” she said as the door closed behind Ginny.

“Yes, but I’m still trying to figure out what.”

Celia leaned back and looked at him appraisingly. “She’s good for you, I think. A good influence.”

Percy laughed dryly. “Lord help us all.”

*

Celia and Ginny weren’t his only visitors that day, though at least Kingsley had the sense to wait until the afternoon to turn up. When he got there, he looked worn-out – so tired, in fact, that Percy didn’t have the heart to scold him when he put his feet up on the coffee table.

“Are you quite all right?” Percy asked, taking off his glasses to clean them. He was sitting across from Kingsley in the living room, while the kettle boiled in the kitchen.

“I’m fine, kid. Just tired.” He grinned. “Getting too old for those late nights, I guess.”

“I see,” Percy said. “Business or pleasure?”

“Neither, actually. At least, not official business.”

“Something for Dumbledore, then?” Percy asked casually. Kingsley’s work with Dumbledore and his associates was a subject they usually skirted. Percy wasn’t even sure what made him bring it up.

“Actually, yes,” Kingsley said, looking uncharacteristically serious. He dropped his feet from the table and leaned forward, folding his hands. “There’s something I’ve got to ask you, Percy.”

Not ‘kid.’ Not ‘Weasley.’ But ‘Percy.’ This couldn’t be good. Percy slid his glasses back on carefully.

“I see.”

“Nah. You probably don’t.” Kingsley smiled, and Percy relaxed a little bit. But only a little bit.

“I want to see what you think of this.” He held up a classified ad, torn rather messily from the Sunday Prophet.

Percy blinked. “What is this?”

“Just something to think about,” Kingsley said, handing it over.

“It’s an advert for office space,” Percy said blankly. “Why on earth would I need to lease an office?”

Kingsley shrugged. “You haven’t found a new job, right? So why not go into business for yourself?”

“Doing what exactly? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m much better at taking orders than giving them.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kingsley said, with a slight grin. “You were Head Boy, weren’t you?”

“That is entirely different than what you’re proposing. And I’m still a little fuzzy on what exactly you are proposing.”

“There’s a lot of bad stuff out there, Percy -- vampires and ghouls and things like that -- and there are an awful lot of people who need help-“

“Isn’t that what Aurors are for?” Percy said.

“Well, it’s too late for you to become an Auror. But you’re good at that sort of thing, and being an Auror isn’t the only way to help people.”

“If you’re suggesting I join Dumbledore, I doubt they’d have me-“

“You might be surprised about that. But joining Dumbledore isn’t the only option either.” Kingsley took the ad back from him. “What I’m suggesting is that you do what you can to help, but on your own terms. Work with Dumbledore, don’t work with Dumbledore, whatever. Be your own boss – but join the fight. Do something.”

It did sound tempting. And hadn’t Percy been wishing for some direction, some purpose, ever since the Ministry? Well, yes. But he wasn’t sure this was the direction he wanted to be headed in. He’d been thinking more along the lines of something that would bring in a tidy amount of money, maybe a little prestige… the sort of thing that would impress people. Chasing nasty creatures around alleys certainly wasn’t impressive.

“I’m not sure,” he began. “Besides, where would I even get the money for an office or any of the other things one needs to start a business? I’ve never exactly had money, even in the best of times.”

For his part, Kingsley looked relieved that Percy was even considering the possibility. He grinned. “That’s all taken care of. I’ve found you a willing patron. We’re having tea with her. Tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well, then…” Percy paused. “Who is this ‘willing patron’?”

“Adelaide Longbottom.”

Percy had the memory of a rather imposing figure of a woman, brandishing an antique katana sword at him in the aftermath of her grandson’s disastrous birthday party.

“She’s… rather formidable, as I remember.”

“That she is,” Kingsley laughed.

Percy was staring into space, considering the situation. “It all sounds so innocent and straightforward…”

“Come on now, Percy,” Kingsley began, spreading his hands helplessly. “The lady just asked us to tea…”

“…and, yet, somehow I’m having trouble believing you,” Percy said.

“Come on, kid…”

“What exactly makes you think that Adelaide Longbottom will have any interest in helping me?”

Kingsley grinned. “Call it a hunch.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t put much faith in hunches anymore,” Percy said huffily, turning away.

Kingsley brought one massive hand down on his shoulder. “She’ll help you, kid. She’s in thick with Dumbledore.”

“And this was his idea?”

Kingsley shrugged noncommittally.

Percy folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t appreciate being manipulated, Kingsley.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the side of good. It’s all vague pronouncements and half-baked prophecies and ask questions later. None of us are operating with full disclosure.”

“No wonder evil kicks your arse so often, then,” he said, as the kettle began to whistle.

*

Ginny was not, she had to confess, especially looking forward to their pre-term trip to Diagon Alley this year. In the past, she’d loved going shopping, loved the excitement of getting new things for school (even if ‘new’ in the Weasley family often meant second- or third-hand). But that was the past. This year everything was different and, as much as she might try to pretend otherwise, there was no changing it.

She dragged herself downstairs on Monday morning, puffy-eyed, caffeine-deprived and in an utterly wretched mood, to find Tonks and Professor Lupin sitting at the kitchen table.

“Well, good morning,” Tonks said with a laugh. “You look like you had a rough night of it.”

“Hardly,” Ginny said grumpily, pouring herself a glass of milk. “That would have implied that something interesting happened.”

Lupin shook his head in vague disapproval, but he was smiling.

“Bored, eh?” Tonks said. “Well, I suppose you’ll be glad to get out today, then.”

Ginny groaned and laid her head on the table.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Lupin said, spooning sugar into his tea.

“I hate the entire world,” Ginny said. “Why is there never any coffee?”

“Coffee is bad for you,” Hermione said primly, coming into the kitchen. “Studies have shown-“

“Stop! I don’t want to know.”

“Fine. Just go ahead and give yourself a stomach ulcer before you’re twenty.” Hermione sat next to her.

“Remind me,” Ginny said, with her head still against the tabletop. “Why are we friends?”

“I do your homework?” Hermione said, with just a flash of a grin.

Ginny smiled back. “Right. That must be it.”

“When are we leaving for Diagon Alley?” Hermione asked absently, pouring her own glass of milk.

“As soon as Ron and Harry are ready, which ought to be,” Tonks checked her watch, “about two weeks from never.”

“And they say teenage girls are bad,” Lupin said, without looking up from the newspaper.

“Harry’s probably just sulking in the bathroom,” Ginny said without thinking, a little surprised at the bitterness she heard in her own voice. “God only knows he isn’t doing anything about his hair.”

“Nice, Ginny,” came Ron’s voice from behind her.

Ginny felt herself flush slightly, but she recovered. Holding her head up, she turned to face both boys, who were standing in the doorway.

“What? Harry isn’t exactly a pomade-and-shine sort of guy.”

“That’s not the point and you know it...” Ron began, but Harry just shrugged and flung himself into a chair at the table.

And, to be fair, his hair was appalling. It looked like he’d tried to wet it down, but it had just dried into an even more impressive cowlick than usual. Ron, for his part, smelled suspiciously of aftershave. Maybe trying to pick up Harry’s slack in the hygiene department?

“Where’s Mum?” Ron said, spinning a chair around and folding his long legs up on either side.

“Your mother is off on an errand. Only Tonks and I are going with you today,” said Lupin.

“Really?” Ginny sat up, suddenly energized. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Why is that?” Harry asked, sounding suspicious.

“Well, someone has to go with you, don’t they?” Tonks said, smiling.

That, apparently, was the wrong answer. Harry’s face darkened.

“What? We don’t get the full honor guard this time? Or have we figured that Voldemort isn’t quite as keen to kill me this year?”

“Harry-“ Hermione began, but Ron stopped her with a slight shake of his head.

“Harry,” Lupin said flatly. “You can stay here, you know. No one’s forcing you to go.”

Harry didn’t respond, just folded his arms across his chest and looked sullen.

“Excellent,” Lupin said, clasping his hands together. “Now, if everyone’s ready-“ He turned to Tonks. “Where did I put the…?”

“These things?” Tonks pulled three shiny silver pocket watches from a colorful satchel she had slung across one shoulder.

“Exactly. Thank you,” Lupin said, standing up and handing one to Hermione. Everyone got to their feet.

“Portkeys?” Harry was staring at the things with undisguised contempt.

“Yes, Harry,” Lupin said, sounding distinctly tired. “I’m afraid it’s the safest way-“

“Oh, sure. Much safer. Especially if you want to end up in a cemetery surrounded by Death Eaters and bleeding from the wrists.”

“You’d better partner up,” Tonks said, cheerfully ignoring him. “Ginny, why don’t you come with me? And Harry-“

Ginny expected Ron to volunteer immediately to go with Harry, but he didn’t. He hung back, standing beside Hermione and looking uncomfortable.

“Actually, Ginny, why don’t you go with Harry?” Lupin asked pleasantly, but with the unmistakable sense that it wasn’t really a request. Tonks gave him a sharp look, but Lupin ignored it.

“Sure. Fine,” Ginny said. A year ago -- hell, three months ago -- she wouldn’t have minded going with Harry at all. Two or three years ago, she would have been embarrassingly thrilled… but the less said about that, the better. These days, though, hanging out with Harry was about as much fun as listening to Percy talk about international magical cooperation. Actually, she reconsidered, hanging out with Percy was way more fun. At least lately.

She glanced sidelong at Harry. It was a crazy mixed-up world.

Harry scowled at her.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ginny thought and went to stand next to him. Harry snatched the pocketwatch from Lupin and then looked down, glaring at it and refusing to talk to anyone.

Tonks flipped her own watch open. “Just another minute or so. Everybody hang on,” she said as Lupin reached out to her and put his fingertips against the watch chain.

Harry was still glowering darkly at the portkey resting in his palm.

“Oh, don’t be such a big baby,” Ginny snapped, annoyed, taking the thing from him.

Harry made a grab to snatch it back. His hand just closed over it when Ginny felt that familiar sick-somersault that meant it had activated.

“Now, see, this isn’t so-“ But she never finished. The next thing she knew, she felt as though she’d flipped over somehow, shifted slightly, like changing lanes in the car her dad had owned when she was little. Cold air was whistling past her ears, so loudly she thought her eardrums might burst, and then she slammed into something solid.

*

Having guests to tea at Longbottom Lane was a common enough occurrence that the preparations ought to have been accomplished with little or no fuss.

However…

There were a lot of ‘howevers’ in Neville’s life. He’d long since stopped keeping track of them.

“Neville, dear.” Gran was standing in the doorway of the music room, dressed in tweeds and carrying a large bunch of dahlias freshly-cut from the garden. “I’m going to need you out of the house this morning. We’re having guests to tea and there are a million things to be done. You know you’ll just get underfoot.”

Neville did indeed know this, thanks to years of experience. He nodded and sighed. “I’ll be out in the greenhouses then. My lidah bumi could use some pruning, anyway.”

“Very good, dear. Before you go, though, I need a word with you.”

“Uh-huh.” Neville just barely looked up from the piano.

“It’s about your friend. Ginny Weasley.”

“What about Ginny?” he asked, still fingering the keys lightly.

“I like that girl,” Gran said, sitting next to him and putting a hand firmly over his to stop him playing. “She has spunk.”

“I suppose,” Neville said, not really listening.

“You could do worse, you know,” Gran continued. “And she clearly likes you.”

Neville had also long since stopped wondering how his Gran knew those sorts of details with alarming accuracy.

“Ginny is not at all interested in me that way,” he said firmly. “She has a boyfriend, and even if she didn’t-“

“Yes, yes, dear. Of course,” Gran said with the slight sigh she used when she couldn’t be bothered to be truly passive-aggressive. “I bring her up, of course, because her brother is coming to tea.”

“Which brother?” Neville asked. “One of the older ones, I suppose?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Percy, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh. I can’t imagine that will go over well with Dumbledore, will it?”

“Nonsense.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Who do you think suggested it?”

Neville just sighed.

“You’d do well to show a little more interest in these things, Neville. After last year, I thought perhaps-

“Gran-“ They’d been down this road a time or two already that summer.

“Dear boy-“ She stood up and began to pace. “There are things- There are things that we are going to have to talk about eventually. You need to be involved. Yes, it’s definitely time,” she said, half to herself.

Neville shook his head. “Why bring all this up now?” he asked.

“This past year… you finally fought back.” Gran hesitated, not seeming to quite know what to say. Neville perked up. This was new. “I- I was proud of you, Neville. Your father would be proud of you.”

Neville placed his hands atop the piano, unable to find his voice for a full minute.

“Now get out of the house,” Gran said, turning her back abruptly and leaving.

Neville went, but it didn’t bother him nearly as much as it usually did.

*

“Oh, not again.” It was Harry’s voice and it was the first thing Ginny heard when she opened her eyes.

“Ow,” Ginny said, with feeling. She was lying on her back on the hard ground. She couldn’t see Harry, but she could hear him. It was very dark and the air was damp, as though they were underground. “Not what again?” she asked, running through the possibilities in her mind. A horrible one suddenly occurred to her. “Oh, god. It’s not another giant snake, is it?”

“Ginny? Is that you?”

“No, it’s the Queen bleeding Mother. Who do you think it is?” She tried to sit up, but came over dizzy about halfway there. “Oh, damn it.”

“Are you all right?” Somehow he’d found his way over to her in the dark, patting the floor next to her, then her shoulder, and fumbling toward- Oh, that definitely wasn’t her shoulder.

“Hey!” She jerked away sharply.

“Sorry,” Harry said, actually sounding truly sorry for the first time in weeks. “I didn’t mean to, uh-“

“Cop a feel? Nice to know.” She tried to sit again, actually making it this time.

“I’ve got my wand,” Harry began, “but I’m a little afraid to use it, what with last summer and all. I don’t know whether this qualifies as a life threatening situation or not. Though with my luck it probably does.“ He hesitated. “Ginny, be caref-“

“Wait.” She rummaged around in her bag. “I have a lighter.”

“Should I even ask,” Harry said, “why you’re carrying around a cigarette lighter?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t.” She snapped it open and the flame sparked in her hand. She could see him now. He was standing less than a foot away from her, both hands braced against the wall. They were very definitely underground. Ginny remembered the last time she’d been trapped in an underground chamber with Harry. It wasn’t an experience she was in a particularly big hurry to relive.

“Well, that doesn’t help us much, does it?”

“Hey, at least we can see,” Ginny said. Now that she could see Harry – and now that she was reasonably sure there weren’t any giant mythical serpents about to emerge from hiding – she was remembering how annoyed she’d been with him earlier.

Except… Beneath the dark anger on his face, now there was something else. Something that looked uncomfortably like fear. Harry was allowed to be a lot of things: insufferable, moody, reckless, sad, even a little broken. But Harry was never, never allowed to be scared. He just wasn’t made that way; the world wasn’t.

Somehow Ginny found herself standing a little closer to him. “Harry-“

"Shut up a minute, won't you?"

And the annoyance was back again. "Are you at least trying to find us a way out of here, if you're going to be rude?"

“I’m trying, all right!” he snapped. “You might try helping yourself, you know.”

She dusted herself off, and scowled at Harry. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a moody little shit today?”

Harry just scowled back more deeply. “Gee, I don’t know, Ginny. Do you think maybe it’s because of the megalomaniacal Dark Lord out to kill me? Or maybe the dead godfather? Or maybe the fact that we’re trapped in someone’s basement?!”

“Hey, don’t inflict your post-traumatic stress on the rest of us. We’re on your side, remember?”

“What exactly do you suggest I do, then?”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” she said sweetly. “Maybe you could try not being such massive wanker all the time.”

He blinked. “I honestly don’t get you.”

“I speak the truth. What’s not to get?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for a response to that. "Fine," he said at last. "Let's just focus on finding a way out of this place, okay?"

"Fine with me."

"Come on then. Let's get moving."

"And where exactly," she asked, holding the cigarette light up to get a better view of the place, "are we headed?"

"This way." He gestured vaguely to his right.

"And we know that's the way out because-?"

"We don't." Harry stomped off in that direction, stepping on her foot as he went.

“Ow!” Ginny said. He kept walking, and didn’t apologize. “Ow,” she repeated, with emphasis. He didn’t even turn around.

“Post-traumatic stress,” she grumbled, following after him. “More like post-traumatic hormones…”

They walked through a low corridor into a room that looked a whole lot like the one they'd just left.

“Harry, wait a minute. This isn’t a basement.” She shone the lighter into a corner. There were rows of bunk-style beds built into the stone wall. A small table in the corner was littered with an assortment of small glass boxes and dishes. Ginny leaned in and sniffed at one particularly ornamented dish, filled with ashes. “Yikes. Or maybe it’s just an evil basement.”

“What?”

“That,” she pointed at the dish, “is some very bad ju-ju.”

Harry leaned in looked closely at the dish. “How do you know that? It looks like an ordinary knickknack to me.”

“Hey, remember? I know dark magic when I see it.”

“Unless it’s an evil, soul-sucking spirit trapped in a diary. Then? Not so much.”

“Hey!” she began hotly. She could feel her cheeks flush with anger. “What is your d-“ But suddenly Harry knocked her out of the way. Hard. “For the fifth time today," she hissed, "Ow!”

She grabbed at her shoulder reflexively and was about to protest further, when he said, “Be quiet. Someone’s coming.”

Harry grabbed her by the sleeve and pushed her behind him, snapping the lighter shut against her hand and flattening them both against the wall to one side of the door. Voices were coming from the corridor they'd just come through, echoing weirdly off the wet, stone walls.

"So anyway I told him that if he didn't like it, he could just forget about-"

"Hush up a minute," a vaguely familiar voice said. "There's something off here. Do you smell smoke?"

"Of course I smell smoke," the first voice, a girl, said. "That's rather the point, isn't it?"

"Not that kind of smoke. Regular smoke, like a match."

"A what?"

"Never mind."

A shadow fell across the doorway as someone played a lantern across the far wall. Harry tensed, pushing Ginny even farther back against the wall with his outstretched arm.

"Somebody's been here," the second voice said, and a tall figure strode into the room, setting the lantern onto a table in the center of the room and turning to look directly at Harry and Ginny.

It was Theodore Nott. He blinked once in disbelief. "What the-?"

“Is that Potter?” another voice said. “I don’t believe it.”

"What," Nott said, sitting down on the edge of the table, "possible reason could you have to be down here?"

Harry drew himself up to his full height, still effectively shielding Ginny from Nott and whoever else was in the room now. Ginny had no way of knowing, as she couldn't actually see over Harry's shoulder. She shoved him gently, but he just pushed back and hissed at her to stay put.

"We don't even know where here is," Harry said. "Is this some sort of ambush?"

"Ambush?" Nott actually looked amused. "Seriously?"

"Isn't that what you people do? Ambushes, plots, random acts of treachery and violence?"

For a half-second Nott looked like he might take offense, but instead he just said mildly, "Not during summer holiday."

"Even evil takes a holiday I guess," Harry retorted.

"Harry, cut it out." Ginny pushed him again, finally knocking him off-balance long enough to slip out from behind him.

"Don't listen to him. He's like that with everyone," she said brightly. "Evil this, evil that. Every morning at breakfast, it's like, 'Hey, Harry? Pass the jam, won't you?' And all we get back is glowering and mumbled threats about evil and retribution. It gets rather tiresome, really."

Nott grinned at her. "Hullo, Weasley."

"Theo."

"How's your holiday been?"

"Absolutely wretched. The family is driving me crazy, Neville almost got us all killed last month, and then, of course, Harry and I got ourselves magicked into this basement."

He leaned back. "That does sound tiresome."

"Do you mean to tell me," Harry began slowly, catching on, "that you two know each other."

"Passingly," Nott said. "We're not exchanging BFF bracelets or anything, but Weasley's all right."

Ginny just raised an eyebrow at him. Harry was turning an interesting shade of purple, so Ginny decided to explain. "We had Charms club together year before last, Harry. Theo's all right, too."

"And the rest of them?"

Ginny turned to follow Harry's gaze. About half of the Slytherins in Harry's year were standing, arms crossed and looking rather skeptical, against the far wall. Draco Malfoy, however, was notable by his absence.

"Them I can't vouch for."

"I can. Let's take this party into the main room," Nott said to the others. Turning back to Ginny, he said, "You, too. Come on."

They'd missed the main room on their way down the corridor with the lighter -- which was unfortunate because it had working lights, a radio and, incongruously, a small circle of red pleather beanbag chairs around a low table. The table was scorched and coated with a fine dusting of ash. There was a distinct smell of patchouli in the air. Pansy Parkinson flopped into one of the chairs, flicking the radio on listlessly and looking impossibly bored by them all. Millicent Bulstrode sat as well and began unpacking cans of lager, a bag of crisps and some very suspicious-smelling brownies from her satchel. Ginny had to stifle a giggle.

"This is what you do during the summer? That's so-" she giggled again, "That's so pedestrian!"

Standing behind her, Nott leaned down and said softly, "Disappointed that we aren't performing blood sacrifices and stealing candy from small children?"

"A little bit. It takes away some of your mystique."

"I suppose you'll have to learn to appreciate me for other reasons, then-" he began, but was cut off by Harry clearing his throat meaningfully.

"Back to the matter at hand...?" Harry began.

"Which was?"

"Where we are, and why you brought us here!"

Nott pulled one of the beanbags out for Ginny, who sat. "I didn't bring you here. None of us did. How could we? No magic during holidays, remember?"

"Oh, Harry breaks that rule all the time," Ginny said, accepting the can of lager that Nott opened and handed to her. Harry scowled at her again.

"As for where we are," Nott continued, "we're underneath an old warehouse that my father owns. We come here to, you know-"

"Hang out?" Ginny offered helpfully.

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

“So, it’s kind of a Junior Death Eater rave, then?” Harry said, still standing close enough to the door to make a quick escape if necessary.

“Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters in training, you know,” Nott said, looking vaguely offended. "There's no dark magic going on here -- unless you count Mill's brownies."

“But what about the-“ Ginny gestured at a row of ceramic dishes lined up across a high shelf on one wall.

“We don't mess around with those. This place used to be an opium den, home to all sorts of nastiness, about a hundred years ago.” He shrugged. “My family owns the property, but we’ve never used it for anything in particular. Opium can be used for some different kinds of magic. Dark arts, mostly: divination, dreaming spells and the like.”

“And that’s what people used to do here?”

“Some of them. I think most people just liked the opium, actually.” He turned to Harry. "As for how you got here, I have no idea. I'd love to know, though. We've broken most of the wards so we can get in, but I wouldn't have thought it would work for anyone else."

Ginny shrugged, taking a sip of lager. "Our portkey malfunctioned. Must have been a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Harry said, finally putting his wand away and coming over to sit on one end of Ginny's beanbag.

“How boring,” Pansy said. Her gaze flicked up and down Ginny. “Nice shoes.”

Ginny turned helplessly to Harry. “I have no idea how to take that. Was that sarcasm?”

“Surprisingly enough?” Pansy said. “No. I like your shoes.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Pansy just shrugged.

Millicent wordlessly offered a beer to Harry, who shook his head. When he refused, she tossed it over to a skinny Slytherin boy Ginny didn't recognize. When she turned back, Nott was asking Harry about the broken portkey.

“You were both holding it?” he said, looking vaguely thoughtful. “And that’s how you ended up here? That is interesting-“

"Why?" she asked.

"No real reason," he said. "Just Potter being, well, Potter. And you-"

"What about me?"

"Come on, Weasley. We know all about you, remember? Strangled any good chickens lately?"

Ginny frowned at him.

"Oh, don't be mad at me, Freckles," he said, smiling at her. She couldn't quite help smiling back. "That's never been a secret, and you know it."

"Dumbledore said no one had to know-" Harry began.

"But everyone did. Honestly, Potter."

Pansy leaned over to Ginny again. "I can't remember, who is your boyfriend?" The 'this week' was implied, but Ginny chose to ignore it.

"Dean Thomas."

"Oh, yes. He's rather handsome." She considered for a moment. "Maybe I should date a Gryffindor boy. For variety. The Slytherins are getting a bit stale. Theo's one of the only interesting ones of the bunch."

“I thought you liked Draco,” Ginny said.

Pansy shrugged eloquently. “I do like Draco,” she said, and promptly lost interest in the conversation.

"Come on, Ginny." Harry was getting to his feet. "We've got to go. Lupin will be frantic when he sees we're not with the others."

"No, he won't. I've never seen him frantic. I've never even seen him more than ever-so-slightly bemused."

Harry seemed to be fighting to suppress some sort of urge. Instead, he took her by the arm. "Let's go, Ginny. Your friend here is going to show us the way out. Apparently, this place is just off Nocturne Alley, so we didn't go too far from where we were supposed to end up."

"How convenient."

"Come on, Weasley," Nott said, taking her other arm. "I owe you one for the chicken crack."

*

Lupin and the others were waiting for them outside Gringotts.

"Harry!" he said, catching sight of them, "You're all right! I was about to owl Dumbledore. When you didn't come through with the rest of us, I was ready to think the worst."

“Yeah, well, we took a little sidetrip,” Harry said, with a warning look at Ginny.

“Didn’t wind up down Nocturne Alley again, did you?” Ron asked with a grin.

“Actually-“ Ginny began. Harry gave her an extremely dirty look. She threw her hands up and walked away, muttering, “Whatever.”

Lupin had torn his gaze away from Harry and was looking at her curiously. "Ginny, are you all right, too?"

"Oh, fine. I'm great. Just fabu."

"I'll bet you are, Freckles," Harry said, half under his breath.

“Oh, screw this. I need a sink and a mirror.” She grimaced. “And some lotion wouldn’t kill me, either. You coming, Hermione?”

"Uh, sure," Hermione said.

The wizarding world had very few public restrooms. There was a reason for this. Talking mirrors, exploding toilet seats and lewd condom machines might seem like interesting conversation pieces, but it made for a bit of a harrowing experience in the public loo.

"So, what really happened to you two today?" Hermione asked, as Ginny was running a borrowed comb through her hair.

"I am honestly not sure. There were Slytherins and pot brownies and a malfunctioning portkey -- and I think Harry may have a had a small stroke of some sort. But other than that? No earthly idea. Besides, Harry doesn't want me to tell."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but just then the condom machine made a very off-color remark

"Oh, that's filthy," Hermione said, trying very hard not to look amused.

Tonks and the boys were still waiting when they returned. Ron had gone and gotten everyone lemon ices in the meantime, prompting Ginny to declare him her favorite brother ever.

"What do you say we go look at the new Nimbus line?"

Hermione looked vaguely disappointed by this suggestion, so Ginny offered to go to Flourish and Blotts with her instead, so long as Hermione promised they could stop by Gladrags after.

“You’d rather look at shoes than brooms?” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Where, exactly, is the law that says I can’t like both?” Ginny replied, more snappishly than she’d really meant. Great, now Harry was contagious.

"Why don't we split up?" Tonks suggested. "Boys and girls." She turned to Ginny and Hermione. "We can look at shoes and gossip and order frivolous drinks with umbrellas in them."

"I'm in," Ginny said. Hermione nodded her agreement.

As they waved goodbye, Ginny noticed Harry watching her leave with an odd expression on his face. She frowned at him, but he turned away and didn't look back again. So she resolved not to think about it for the rest of the day.

*

It was very important to Percy to always repay his debts. He hated any kind of imbalance, hated the feeling that he owed anyone. Any debt was repaid promptly, with interest. This was why, he told himself the morning before his tea at the Longbottom estate, he had packed a fairly elaborate boxed lunch and gone round to Celia’s flat. She’d brought him breakfast, and so, it was only logical, he owed her lunch. Repayment, with interest.

She was quite pleased, and suggested that they flaunt their unemployed state by having lunch in a popular park near the Ministry of Magic. The park, like most of the magical spots in London, was hidden from non-magical eyes. To most people, it appeared to be a vaguely disreputable vacant lot. In truth, it was a pleasant little park favored by Ministry employees and primary school teachers. The weather was especially fine, so the park was very crowded.

Celia grinned as she spread a cornflower blue-and-lemon yellow beach blanket in the shade near a bed of daffodils. “This is a lovely spot. Shady, cool, and from here we can spit cherry pips at the Department of Magical Employment Services.”

Percy just shook his head. So far he had avoided mentioning his appointment with Mrs. Longbottom or Kingsley’s suggestion that he go into business for himself.

He felt oddly guilty about that. But not enough to broach the subject.

Celia lay down beside him on the blanket, just a shade too close. Percy scooted away as inconspicuously as possible.

She still noticed. She sighed, sat up and began to unpack the sandwiches and fruit.

“Tell me something, Percy.” She handed him a cucumber and watercress with the crusts cut off precisely.

“What’s that?”

“Did your mother hug you?”

Percy had been aiming his first bite of sandwich toward his mouth. The question caught him so off-guard that he missed and bits of cucumber and cream cheese went sailing over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s a fairly simple question.” Celia spooned cold chicken salad onto a plate. “When you were a child, how often did your mother hug you? Every day? Once a week? All the time until you thought your ribs might shatter from the strain?”

“I- er, well, the latter, I suppose.”

“Really? How interesting,” she said and took a bite of salad.

“Whatever makes you say that?”

“You don’t act like a man whose family loves him, Percy. You don’t act like you were the sort of little boy whose mother hugged him and told him she was proud of him.” Another bite. “In fact, you act like someone who spent most of his childhood locked in a basement or on the wrong end of a belt buckle.”

She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking out across the park, watching a group of schoolchildren splash in an old marble fountain.

“That’s a terrible thing to say, Celia.”

“It is, isn’t it? It doesn’t stop it from being true, though.”

Percy put down the remnants of his sandwich and rubbed his temples. “I knew I should never have introduced you to Ginny.”

She turned, finally, to look at him. “That might well be true. Seeing your sister… Well, she wasn’t what I expected from your family after everything I’d heard.” She paused. “She loves you, Percy. Terribly.”

He didn’t answer. She turned away, watching the children in the fountain again.

“I also imagine that she probably wants to take you over her knee and spank the life out of you on occasion, but that’s a sentiment I can certainly sympathize with.”

At that moment, Percy was incredibly glad that Celia wasn’t looking at him. For some reason, he had gone very, very red and no amount of lemonade seemed to be helping.

“Spanking?” he said helplessly, once he had regained some semblance of control.

“In the purely metaphorical sense, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Then again, you already do a lovely job of punishing yourself, so it would probably be a moot point anyway.”

“Now, really,” Percy said, beginning to feel very put out. “I made you a lovely lunch. I brought you to the park on what is possibly the last beautiful sunny afternoon of the summer. And all you can find to do is run through a litany of my flaws?”

Celia went a bit pink. “That wasn’t my intention, really. I just- I’m trying to figure you out, Percy, and every time I think I’ve made a bit of headway- Then something pops up to make me think I’ve got you figured the entirely wrong way round.” She paused. “So, here’s your chance, Percy. Why don’t you tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What you want, where you’re coming from, why you’re so angry at yourself.”

He sighed heavily. “Angry? I suppose I am. I’ve tried to do everything the right way, but it somehow always ends up being wrong. After awhile, Celia, that would make anyone angry… But I still don’t think I’m wrong. Not about everything.” He shrugged. “My family would certainly be safer if they’d taken my advice.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re so angry with them?” Celia lay back, propping herself on one elbow and looking up at him.

“What other reason could there be?”

“Maybe you wanted to hurt them, just a little bit, for hurting you?”

Percy snorted. “That’s completely ridiculous. That wouldn’t even make any sense…”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I might do something like that, if I felt that my family had chosen someone else over me.”

“Chosen? Someone? What?” Percy said, nearly choking on his strawberry tart.

Celia reached up and absently patted him on the back. “Yes, Percy. You know what I’m talking about.”

He straightened up, taking a long drink of lemonade. “I’m quite certain I don’t.”

“What about Harry Potter, then? You’ve told me that your family considers him just like one of your brothers. When it came down to it, your family chose to side with Harry and not you. They chose one of your brothers over you, even if he isn’t a brother by blood-“

“That is ridiculous,” Percy snapped, trying not to think about the letter he’d sent Ron last year. Or all those letters and packages from his mother that he’d returned, unopened. He pushed those traitorous thoughts firmly to the back of his mind, and said, “Nevertheless, the choices they’ve made have put them in harm’s way. And not just from You-Know-Who and his followers, but from the Ministry, from others who disagree with Dumbledore. I thought – and I still think – that it was a very ill-advised choice.”

“Love isn’t logical, Percy.”

He looked up, a little startled. Celia was watching him with an expression that looked suspiciously like pity, mingled with… something else. He suddenly found it very hard to swallow.

“No kind of love is,” she amended with a slightly wry smile. “Not really. Trying to push it away, even if it is the smarter, better thing to do… it usually just doesn’t work. That’s equally true of families, friends and lovers.”

Percy shook his head. “Sometimes I think that you and I live in very different worlds.”

“The world’s the same,” she said bluntly. “It’s how we look at it that’s a little different.”

“So what would you have done, then?”

She sighed heavily. “I’m not sure. My family is very different from yours. We’re less-“ She paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. “We’re less passionate. When we disagree – and we disagree quite often – it’s never personal. Then again, the things we disagree on aren’t as immediately dangerous as the situation your family is in.”

“That’s a very politic answer,” Percy said, a little unkindly.

It didn’t seem to bother Celia. She simply said, “And that is why I was very good at my job.” She put a hand on his wrist. “I do understand your side of it, though. Maybe even a little better than you do.” She wasn’t quite looking at him and, for some reason, that made it a little easier for him to listen to what she was saying. “And you’re right- about not all the dangerous people being necessarily on the side of, you know, pure evil. That’s what makes this so frightening, I think.”

“What’s that?”

“Aside from V-“ She paled a little. “Well, you know. There are all these other forces at work. People with their own agendas, people who can be just as dangerous, for all that they’re not evil in the same way as, well, He is. And who’s going to deal with them while we’re all scanning the skies for any sign of the Dark Mark?“

Percy blinked. “Well, I don’t- Surely the Ministry-“ He stuttered to a halt.

Celia smiled suddenly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m ruining one of the last lovely days of the summer with all my gloom. Just ignore me.”

“No!” Percy said, surprised by the passion in his voice. “You’re absolutely right. We shouldn’t be ignoring those things, we shouldn’t be ignoring any of it. People need help, and right now there isn’t anyone to give it.”

He fell silent and could feel her watching him, though he didn’t want to turn his head to look.

“What is it?” she said, after a moment.

“Nothing,” he said, and then, moved by some compulsion he didn’t quite understand, he reached out and took her hand in his. “Just a decision I needed to make. But thank you.”

*

True to her word, after extended visits to both Flourish and Blotts and Gladrags, Tonks took them to a tiny corner cafe called the Bee's Bonnet and ordered three of the largest raspberry lemonades Ginny had ever seen.

"With pink umbrellas!" Tonks called after the waitress. "And two straws! Please!" She turned back to the table. "They have a Chocolate Lava Cake here that is as big as my head."

"After the day I have had," Ginny said, "that sounds just about right."

A bell tinkled above the door, signalling that new customers had just come in. Two witches who looked about Percy's age had walked in and were looking around, trying to decide on the best table. Both, Ginny noticed, were wearing outfits that came straight out of the pages of Witch Weekly -- and her wildest dreams.

"Is that a Mandarin Azure dragonhide handbag?" she said, trying not to stare. Much.

She did not expect the two witches to point directly at their table and suddenly start screaming. Ginny barely resisted the urge to duck underneath the tablecloth. Hermione upset her lemonade, but recovered quickly, steadying the glass before it did much beyond slopping onto the mother of pearl-handled cocktail forks.

"What have I done?" Ginny asked, slightly stunned.

The two girls screamed again. “Dora!” they said, and launched themselves at Tonks.

“Stop that!” Tonks said, her voice muffled slightly by the giant group-hug. “It’s Tonks, already. I’m an Auror now.”

“Oh, did you hear that?” said the brunette, releasing a blushing Tonks. “It’s ‘Tonks’ now, Belinda.”

“Much, much scarier than Nymphadora,” the blonde agreed, looking supremely amused. “I’m quite intimidated.”

"I haven't seen either of you in months. Sit," Tonks said. “Ginny, Hermione. This is Lux O’Flaherty and Belinda Ridgeway -- friends of mine from school. Hermione and Ginny are,” she hesitated a little, "family friends."

"Aren't you both just lovely!" the brunette said, and the two sat and ordered a small pot of earl grey tea.

"You must tell us all about your exciting cases," Belinda, the blonde, said once they'd poured.

"Yesterday I interrogated a two hundred year old warlock about his fire-breathing chickens," Tonks replied dryly. "It's hardly a detective novel."

"No one ever thinks their job is as interesting as other people do," Belinda said with a smile.

“Belinda is the most wonderful chef,” Tonks said.

"Oh, how much fun! You must love it."

"See?" Belinda shook her head.

“And what do you do?” Hermione asked, turning to Lux.

“Oh, you know,” Lux said, waving a hand as if it didn’t matter much. “A bit of this, a bit of that. Charities mostly.”

“I see.”

"You know, Ginny," Tonks said, quickly changing the subject, "we were all at school with your brothers."

"Oh, really? Which ones?"

"Charlie," Tonks said, "and Percy -- though I didn't know him very well."

"Oh, you're a Weasley!" Lux said. "Such lovely boys."

“You always fancied Percy a bit, didn’t you?” Belinda said mildly.

Lux wrinkled her nose. “Yes, until he took up with that horrible drab, Penny Clearwater.”

Tonks laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t just steal him.”

“She would have done,” Belinda said, taking a sip of tea, “if he hadn’t shown such poor taste in women to begin with. After that, I’m afraid he was tainted.”

“One has to draw the line somewhere,” Lux said, picking up her own cup. “I can forgive a lot for good looks and intelligence, but inherent bad taste is another matter all together.”

“I don’t know,” Ginny said before she could stop herself, feeling slightly annoyed on Percy's behalf. “His new girlfriend seems quite nice to me.”

Hermione turned to stare at her, open-mouthed, and Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"Percy has a new girlfriend?" she said. "One you've met."

Ginny ignored the last part and said, “Yes... Celia- I think her last name is Wilson? Williams?”

“Celia Williams?” Belinda said, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Another Ravenclaw,” Lux said. “How typical.”

“She was Head Girl, if I remember right,” Belinda continued. “I had an absolute terror of her when I was a third year. A bit haughty, as I recall, but certainly not without good reason. She was definitely on the A-list before Fudge got the sack. I’m impressed.”

“She’s an improvement over Penny Clearwater, at any rate,” Lux said, and even Tonks had to hide a bit of a smile.

But after a moment, she said, “There’s nothing wrong with Penelope Clearwater, Lux."

"If you say so. I hear she's finally had something done about that hair, so perhaps..." she shook her head. "What I would rather know about, Dora, is this new man you've been spotted with. Everyone is talking."

"You mean Kingsley?"

“Oh, yes. Kingsley Shacklebolt.” Lux grinned. “Lovely.”

Tonks went slightly pink and Ginny felt unaccountably annoyed with her.

“He’s a bit older…” Tonks began, and Belinda snorted.

“He’s what? Thirty at the most? That’s nothing.”

“A pittance,” Lux agreed, grinning.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, Ginny had managed to order the Chocolate Lava Cake. The cake was, true to its name, a volcano-shaped confection with melted chocolate bubbling up from a crater in the middle. All conversation stopped for awhile once it arrived -- with five forks. And it was a good thing -- it took all of them to finish it.

After they finished up, they walked back toward Gringotts, Tonks waving goodbye to her friends as they went.

“They remind me of Parvati and Lavender,” Hermione said softly, with a slightly sour look on her face.

Ginny, who liked both Lavender and Parvati, didn’t reply.

"All right, girls," Tonks said, linking arms with them both. "Let's get the fellows and go home."

*

Despite all his better judgment, Percy went to tea.

It was Celia’s influence – and Kingsley’s. Possibly Ginny’s, as well. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good news for his continued health.

“Mr. Weasley,” Adelaide Longbottom grabbed his hand in an alarmingly firm grip and shook it decisively, before leading him into an expensively-but-unfortunately decorated parlor.

A thin, pale girl sat in an overstuffed chair, pouring out the tea from a silver tea service that looked like a remnant of the worst possible taste of the Victorian era.

“This is Luna Lovegood,” Mrs. Longbottom smiled. “She happened by just in time for tea.”

“How nice,” Percy replied, taking the seat he was offered.

“And, of course, you know Mr. Shacklebolt and my nephew.”

“Yes. Hello again, Neville. Kingsley.”

“Hey, Percy,” Kingsley said, holding out a silver platter. “Poppyseed scone?”

“Neville, for heaven’s sake, don’t fidget so,” Mrs. Longbottom said, taking her own seat and unfolding her napkin gracefully. Neville looked heavenward as though asking for strength.

“Sugar?” Luna asked from the chair to his left.

Percy turned toward her, noticing that she was wearing an elaborate, green cloche with a peacock feather perched jauntily over one ear. She held out the silver tea service to him, and he felt vaguely like Alice facing down the Mad Hatter.

“Uh, one sugar is fine.”

“Here you are,” she smiled at him, handing him a delicate china cup.

“So, Mr. Weasley,” Mrs. Longbottom began, “Kingsley here tells me that you want to go into business.”

“Yes, ma’am. Or… something like that, anway.”

“And he’s found premises for you?”

“Yes.” Percy took a hesitant sip of tea.

“Well.” Mrs. Longbottom took a drink of her own tea. “I suppose everything’s in order then. I’ll have the papers drawn up and the money will be deposited in your account by Wednesday.”

Percy let his cup fall to the table with a decided clink. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she confirmed. “The only question, my boy, was whether you really wanted to do this -- and you proved that you did by showing up. As far I’m concerned, the matter is entirely settled.”

“Well, I suppose… what I mean is-“ Percy was completely at a loss for words.

From his right, Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder. “Just enjoy it, kid. This is guaranteed to be the easiest part.”

“No doubt,” said Mrs. Longbottom, picking up a tiny silver bell and ringing it. “Fetch the raspberry cordial, won’t you, Mr. Bracegirdle?” she said to the tiny house elf who appeared. “We’re about to have a little toast.”

Mr. Bracegirdle returned after a moment, carrying cordial glasses and a tiny stoppered bottle on a silver tray.

Percy turned then to see Kingsley watching Neville with an odd expression on his face.

“What is it?” Percy asked.

Kingsley shook his head. “It’s- It’s nothing, at least nothing I can talk about.

He moved aside and let the house elf pour him a glass of cordial. Once everyone had been served, Mrs. Longbottom lifted her glass.

“To Mr. Weasley, and the beginning of what I believe will be a very beneficial partnership.”

*

As soon as they got back from Diagon Alley, Ginny hit the showers. Well, in truth, she hit the giant clawfoot bathtub in the second floor master bath. She spent a good forty-five minutes soaking in water steaming with orange oil and vanilla, and scrubbing the basement grit out of her hair.

Afterward, she wandered downstairs in her robe to find Hermione in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove.

“If that is hot chocolate, I will totally be your best friend.”

Hermione shook her head and smiled. “It is hot chocolate, actually. Do you want marshmallows?”

“No thanks.” Ginny got two large mugs down from the hutch and set them on the counter. “It has been a very, very weird day. Even for us, which is totally saying something.” She flopped into a nearby chair. “I wound up in yet another underground den of evil with Harry -- and Harry is completely irrational right now, by the way -- and Pansy Parkinson likes my shoes.”

Hermione turned from stirring the chocolate and goggled at her, speechlessly, for what had to be the second or third time that day.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Ginny said.

"I thought you were going to tell me earlier, but-"

Ginny giggled. "The condom machine."

"That was very bad of us to laugh." But Hermione was still smiling.

"People who can't laugh at sex are doomed never to enjoy it," Ginny said, still snickering a bit.

"You say that as though-" Hermione began, but cut off as the kitchen door swung open.

“Ooo!” Tonks said, coming into the room. “Is that hot chocolate?”

Hermione sighed slightly and got out another mug.

“So,” Tonks sat at down at the table across from Ginny. “Are you ready to talk about whatever happened to you and Harry today?”

Ginny shrugged. “It’s not my thing, and Harry doesn’t want anyone else to know.”

“Um, okay,” Tonks said, looking askance at her but not pushing the issue. “So, what did you two think of Belinda and Lux?”

“They aren’t really the sort of people I imagined you being friends with at school,” Hermione admitted, handing Tonks a mug of chocolate.

Tonks smiled slightly. “Good people come in all different types, Hermione. So do good friends. If you're lucky, you figure that out early on.”

“They just seemed… a bit silly, is all.”

“The world needs a bit more silliness, as far as I’m concerned. I’m fairly silly myself.”

“But,” Hermione hesitated, pouring her own hot chocolate and sitting down, “you aren’t silly like that.”

“Like what?” Tonks said mildly, slightly raising one eyebrow, and Ginny was put powerfully in mind of Professor Lupin.

“Well, you know…” Hermione seemed slightly discomfited. “About boys and clothes and- and frippery!”

Tonks raised her mug to hide a grin, and Ginny asked, “What’s a frippery?”

“Oh, never mind!” Hermione turned her head aside, and Ginny could see that she was blushing.

“I like boys and clothes and things,” Ginny said seriously, “and I don’t think I’m silly.”

“You’re most definitely not silly,” Tonks replied, equally seriously.

“Oh, just forget I said anything. Please!” Hermione said.

"No," Ginny said, thinking suddenly of Theo Nott and Harry's reaction to him, "I don't think we ought to forget it. We go through school thinking that we know exactly what this group, or this House, or this type of person is like. But, then, once you actually spend time with someone... Well, sometimes they turn out not to be like that at all."

"And sometimes," Hermione said flatly, "they turn out to be exactly the way you expected."

"Sometimes," Tonks said, and didn't push the matter any further. Ginny had the sense, though, that the point had been made.

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron pushed the kitchen door open, breaking the moment. "Could you come here for a minute? I have to talk to you about, uh, that thing? Remember that thing we were talking about earlier?"

"Oh! Oh, yes," she said, setting her mug in the sink and following him out. "That thing."

"They are so weird," Ginny said as the door swung shut again.

"Strange attractors." Tonks smiled. "That's how it goes sometimes."

"Like-" You and Kingsley? she thought, but instead said, "Like your friend Lux and Percy?"

"That would definitely have been strange. Speaking of Percy, though, Kingsley is off somewhere with him today. They said something about picking out Percy’s new office.”

“What’s this now?” Ginny asked.

“I’m not sure whether he wanted anyone to know…” she trailed off. “But considering that you seem to know a lot more about your brother’s business than I’d realized, I guess it can’t hurt. Percy, apparently, is opening up his own business. Sort of an Auror-for-hire thing.”

“Like a private investigator?”

“Something like that.”

“Percy Weasley, P.I.?” Ginny shook her head. “Nope, can’t see it. What on earth is he thinking?”

“Kingsley seemed to think it was a good idea.”

Both of them thought about that for a long moment.

“Well,” Ginny said at last, “if Kingsley thinks it’s a good idea, I suppose there must be something to it…”

Tonks laughed. “That’s what I said!”

“So…” Ginny said casually. “You and Kingsley? Really?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Does that bother you?”

“No!” Ginny said, quickly. “Not at all.”

“I know you’re friends, is all-“

“You’re my friend, too,” Ginny said, and decided not to think about it anymore.

*

Her resolve lasted all of about two hours. After dinner, she went up to Harry's room to try and talk him into telling Professor Lupin about their adventure underneath Nocturne Alley. She considered just walking in without knocking, but decided that could potentially be awkward.

“What do you want?” Harry said from inside the room when she did knock

“Duh. I’m here for an apology.” She pushed open the door, crossed her arms and leaned against the door, expectantly.

Harry sighed and sat up on the bed, looking defeated.

"And I'm supposed to be apologize for what exactly? Rescuing us from the bowels of an opium den?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was a disused basement that used to be an opium den. That's a totally different thing." She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Harry, you should tell Professor Lupin what happened today. He’s worried. He keeps looking at me like he wants to ask, but is too afraid of upsetting you. This getting back at everyone for keeping things from you? By keeping things from them? That’s just stupid, Harry. Nobody wins.”

“Maybe it makes me feel better,” Harry grumped.

“I’m sure that will be terribly comforting when the next person kicks it because none of us are talking to each other,” she said, coolly.

Harry flushed with anger, but didn’t say anything right away. Finally, he said, “You keep secrets, too, Ginny. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ginny replied, suddenly afraid that somehow Harry had found out about Percy. That was the very last thing she needed. He would know soon enough anyway because of her slip in front of Hermione that afternoon.

Harry just snorted in disbelief and said, “Oh, really? Does Dean know how you’ve been following Kingsley around all summer?”

“My friendship with Kingsley is far more complicated than you obviously think it is.” Ginny folded her arms across her chest. “And, besides, it’s not even remotely your business.”

"Oh, really? Like the fact that you've gone and gotten cozy with all the Slytherins isn't my business? They're the enemy, Ginny. You ought to know better."

“You-“ She sputtered, searching for something foul enough to call him. “You utter arsehead.” Oh, yes. Perfect. That was a snappy comeback. "As if you didn't have enough enemies, you go inventing more for yourself! You know what, Harry? Sometimes you really suck."

They glared at each other for few moments, before Ginny said, "I'm serious, Harry. Don't go creating trouble where there isn't any just because you're angry. Be angry. Yell at me if you need to, but I'm not your enemy. Neither is Theo. And Professor Lupin certainly isn't."

Harry looked down at the bedspread and didn't meet her eyes as he said, “You called me an arse.”

She laughed suddenly. “Yes, I did.” She moved over and sat a little closer to him on the bed. “I’m sorry, Harry. Truce?”

He nodded. “I don’t mean to- well, to say some of the stuff I say. Ever since Sirius… and everything… it just comes out and I can’t stop it.”

“I do understand. It’s just that it doesn’t make you particularly easy to live with -- and we do have to live with you, Harry. All of us. You aren’t the only one with hurt feelings. You aren’t the only one who’s had bad things happen to you.”

"You keep reminding me," he said, with the slightest of sighs.

"Only because it's true," she replied. "Promise you'll talk to Lupin about the portkey?"

“That was weird,” he said. “I wondered if maybe-“

“If what, Harry?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head suddenly. “It was stupid. Forget I said anything. I'll talk to Lupin in the morning. I promise.”

"All right," she said, standing up. "Good night, Harry."

*

The morning of September 1st dawned muggy and overcast. Percy woke up early and met with the agent to sign the lease on his new premises. Key in hand, he sat behind his new desk, made a pot of tea and conjured up a set of business cards. He wasn't entirely sure whether this was the most foolhardy thing he'd ever done, but it certainly ranked in the top ten.

It also made him feel glad to be alive.

At ten, he closed up shop and headed over to Kings Cross to skulk behind the pillars on Platform 9 3/4. It wasn't simple general purpose skulking (though he had a feeling he needed to start practicing that). This skulking had a specific and very clear purpose. He watched, from his vantage point beside a poster advertising headache powder, as his parents, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Remus Lupin rushed past. Bringing up the rear, as usual, was Ginny, struggling with an oversized hat box and an impractical turquoise handbag that looked as though it was made out of imitation dragonhide. She tripped and the hatbox went rolling. Percy stepped out from behind his pillar and caught it, handing it back to her.

"Percy!" she said, "I'm surprised to see you here. Tonks said you were off fighting crime."

“How on earth does Nymphadora Tonks know about that?" he said, then shook his head. "Never mind. I just... came to give you this.” He handed her a spare key to the office and his new business card. “You can use the key if you like. You don’t have to but-“

Ginny was reading the card. "So, you really are a detective? Like in books?" She grinned suddenly. "That's wicked, Percy."

"Go on," he said, "before Mum and Dad miss you."

She turned to go, tucking the card and key into her ridiculous purse. Then, abruptly, she turned back, flinging her arms around him in an embrace and smacking him right in the small of the back with her hatbox.

"I'll see you soon, Percy," she said, and ran off toward the train.

Percy watched until the train pulled out of the station. He could see his mother and Lupin waving after it, but his father was nowhere to be seen. Percy turned to go as the cars whizzed by. He threaded his way through the crowd of waving parents toward the barrier. He stopped short, though, as he caught site of a familiar figure standing practically in the middle of Percy's path. He looked away. If he could just make it to the barrier, he could slip through without being seen.

But, it was too late. They made eye contact as he looked back again, his father swallowing a slight gasp.

“Dad,” Percy said, deciding to take the initiative.

“Percy.”

His father moved to walk away, but Percy took a step forward and said, “Dad…”

“Yes?”

“I- It’s good to see you looking well. I know you were hurt-“

“I’m much better now, Percy. But thank you for being concerned.”

They nodded at one another once and then went their separate ways.

Continued in Episode 6, Found Things

Next time on Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter…

“You’re Lucy, aren’t you? Neville Longbottom’s friend?”

“Luna. And, yes.” She was still wandering the office, looking somewhat bemused.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Hogwarts is closed. Don’t you read the papers?”

The truth of the matter was, Percy couldn’t afford a subscription to The Daily Prophet.

“Closed? You can’t be serious?”

"I would never joke about something like that," she said soberly. "Would you?"

She stared intently at him for a moment, before Percy coughed politely and looked away.

“How did you find me anyway? I haven’t exactly advertised this place.”

“Your sister told me where you were and what you do.” She paused, watching him again with those very distracting eyes. “I’d like to hire you.”

“Hire me? Whatever for?”

“I need you to find a prophecy for me.”