THE PERCY PAPERS
This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling who, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and situations elaborated herein.
Hands still trembling, Percy packed his clothes and papers and other assorted possessions. A family that revelled in practical jokes and scoffed at professional success was not one he wanted to be part of. Which was just as well really, since he hadn't been part of it for a long time. They wouldn't miss him.
Once upon a time, he'd admired his dad. Once upon a time, he'd believed in Dumbledore. Once upon a time, he'd done as he was told – always. But that was before possessed teachers, illegally enchanted cars, basilisks, werewolves, Triwizard tasks and Crucios in the classroom. Before reckless, dangerous, overpraised Harry Potter. He knew better now.
Percy slumped against the door as his mother's footsteps died away into the distance. He couldn't face her. He was too used to obedience; he might succumb and return to her house for siblings to scorn and colleagues to mistrust. No, never. Better to be alone in an empty room than alone in a crowd.
There was his father again. Working in the same building, they were bound to cross paths occasionally, but they didn't have to actually talk, just nod and pass on. It was better this way. No one could accuse him of spying on his family if he never had anything to do with them, could they?
Dumbledore had always been a bit mad, but ever since Harry Potter started school, endearing eccentricity had been deepening into stark insanity. It was like a folie a deux between them, each encouraging the other further and further into losing touch with reality. Now they were even attacking the Ministry. They had to be stopped.
His dad was in St Mungo's? Attacked by a snake during the night? He wanted desperately to go, but they wouldn't want him. They never did.
Why was Dad working back so late, anyhow? Why so far from his office? Spying for Dumbledore, perhaps? He'd warned them against that man. Why wouldn't they ever listen?
It was about time. Dumbledore was very slippery, but he couldn't get away with breaking the law, not now he'd been caught in the act. Not now that he'd confessed to organising an army against the Ministry, with Harry Potter at its head. Maybe now his family would see that he'd been right all along.
He didn't believe it. Mr Fudge had personally assured him there was no evidence; it was just one of Harry Potter's stories. But now it was confirmed. You-Know-Who really was back and there'd been a battle in the Ministry.
Good thing Mr Scrimgeour was taking over. He'd headed the Aurors; he'd know what to do.
He didn't want to be here. Not in this house, with these people, especially not on this day that used to mean love and now meant loneliness. The Minister hadn't understood. He'd talked about reconciliation, but there was nothing here but humiliation. Humiliation and mashed parsnip dripping from his face and glasses. They left together.