Episode 6, Found Things

Percy's first official client as a private... well, whatever he was... was a mysterious blonde, straight from the pages of some cheap detective novel.

His offices were small, but clean and well-appointed. The door sported a tasteful bronze plaque - clearly Mrs. Longbottom's doing - that read 'Weasley Consulting' in understated script. The front room had two second-hand (but not shabby) sofas in the waiting area and an empty desk where a more profitable company would have had an assistant waiting to answer letters and make tea. Things weren't actually dire where profits were concerned, though. He made ends meet, if only just, thanks to the case work Kingsley sent his way. It was mostly grunt duty, the sort of minor investigation the Aurors had neither the manpower nor inclination to do themselves. Percy suspected that the thrill-seeking sort generally attracted to life as an Auror would be ill-suited to the painstaking data mining and clinical dissection of trivial facts the work required.

Percy, on the other hand, was fantastic at it.

That being said, though, he had yet to drum up a private, paying client of his own.

"Hello?" a voice said from the waiting area. "Is there anyone here?"

Percy did not, however, get his hopes up at this. The last time someone had accidentally wandered in, they'd actually been looking for the Chinese take-away restaurant downstairs.

The door to his office opened, revealing a slim, cool blonde, dressed in black, her pale hair falling over one eye. She looked up and asked for him by name.

He stood up from behind his desk motioned her forward. She was too far away for him to make out distinct facial features, but he had an impression of shiny hair and a set of very nice legs.

"I'm Percy Weasley," he said, coming around the front of the desk and extending a hand. "What can I do for you?"

"I need your help," she said, crossing the distance between them and shaking his hand.

As soon as she spoke again, of course, he recognized her - she was a schoolmate of Ginny's, which meant she couldn't be more than fifteen, and, he realized abruptly, there was a special section of hell reserved for guys like him.

"You're Lucy, aren't you?" he managed, feeling very foolish. "Neville Longbottom's friend?"

"Luna, and yes." She was wandering the office, looking somewhat bemused. Like Ginny, he noticed, she seemed to prefer shopping for her clothes at Muggle thrift shops and consignment stores. However, where Ginny tended to prefer last season's designer ready-to-wear and cast-offs from the Seattle rock scene, Luna's clothes were about sixty years out of fashion. Silhouetted as she was in the pale sunlight coming from behind his Venetian blinds, the effect was somewhat unsettling.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" he asked. Then, gesturing toward the tea kettle, "Cup of tea?"

"Oh, yes. Lemon, no sugar, please," she said, followed by, "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, so he just offered a noncommittal shrug and said, "Closed? You can't be serious...?" He handed her the cup of tea and bent to pour one for himself.

"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, taking a sip from his teacup.

"How did you find me anyway? I haven't exactly gotten around to advertising 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."

If Ginny had harbored any illusions that school was going to be in any way better than the preceding summer, they were dashed by the third week of the term - which was, coincidentally, also the week that a score of masked men crept into the school in the dead of night and, apparently, spirited Dumbledore away. McGonagall had sent them all home the very next day, not looking at all happy about the decision. Harry, though, maintained that this was all part of Dumbledore's master plan and that he would return to save the day – but only when the time was right. Ginny wasn't sure if this meant that Harry was privy to some plan the rest of them weren't, or just that he'd really, truly, finally lost it.

Hermione had gone home to her parents, and Ron, to Ginny's ever-increasing suspicion, had actually gone with her. The adults (including both Tonks and Kingsley) had hardly even been around since she returned home, running to and fro on mysterious errands, and leaving Ginny all but alone in the house with Harry.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Though, to be fair, she had to give Harry some credit. She'd fully expected that the events of the past few weeks would have pushed him further into his particular (and LOUD) version of teen angst. In reality, he was actually dealing with it fairly well – or, at least, as well as outright denial could go. His angry outbursts and depression had been replaced by a kind of cold resolve that, while not any more comforting than the alternative, was at least quieter and slightly more polite.

She'd tried to avoid him at first, to give him some space, only to find it was nearly impossible. He always seemed to be there, hovering just out of reach, looking at her like he wanted to ask a question only to turn away when she noticed.

In the absence of any other evidence, she simply decided her first instincts were right and Harry had finally completely lost the plot.

It turned out, of course, that the real issue was a bit more complicated than that. They'd been home about a week and a half (and how terrifying was it that she'd started to think of 12 Grimmauld Place as 'home'?), when she went upstairs to find Professor Lupin for her mother, and he'd been uncharacteristically hard to locate. Finally, after going all the way up to the attic door, she found out why: he was holed up in the attic loft with Harry.

Ginny hadn't meant to eavesdrop, exactly, but as she started back down the steps toward the landing, she heard her own name. She stopped short, only able to hear snatches of the conversation.

"…there's something to it, though. We're both a little… contaminated, I think."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Lupin said, sounding vaguely alarmed.

"I don't think it's ridiculous," he said, sounding uncharacteristically thoughtful. "I actually think it explains a lot."

They'd started down the stairs then, and Ginny had hurried to her room and shut the door until they'd passed safely by.

After a few more days went by and Harry continued to hover, Ginny had finally had enough. She caught him one afternoon in the kitchen, spoiling his dinner by stealing the last of the molasses cookies.

"Those are my favorites, you know," she said, crossing her arms and blocking the door to the stairs. "You could at least leave me one."

Looking a little sheepish, Harry put one of the cookies back in the jar. "Gin-" he began, then stopped, shaking his head.

"What is it, Harry? You want something, or you want to tell me something or… something. You've been lurking around ever since we got back."

Harry frowned. "I don't lurk."

"Skulk?"

"I don't do that either," he said grumpily.

"Well?"

"I-" he began. "I wondered… I've been wondering…"

"Seriously, Harry? Spit it out."

"Well, you know, we've both sort of been touched by Voldemort-"

"First of all, ew – don't say it quite like that, okay? Like we're supposed to point to the place on the doll where he got his dark magic on us… And, second, I hate that name. I get why you say it – it's brave and all – but I hate it. I just have to go on record with that."

Harry sighed heavily, more color in his face than Ginny had seen in months. "Ginny," he said, "do me a favor? Shut up for five consecutive minutes at a minimum, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"So we've both been t- affected by Voldemort, and I'm wondering if maybe that means something, something important..."

"Oh, Harry. That's not how things work."

"Since when? That's exactly how things work. People keep talking to me about destiny and fate like that's a perfectly normal way to plan my life." He frowned darkly at her. "There has to be a reason for all this, or it's just too horrible to be real."

"Okay," she said. "Maybe that is true, but it doesn't have anything to do with me."

"Or maybe it has everything to do with you," he said, with this look on his face that she felt certain she'd seen there before. She had a violent flash of memory: Harry and Tom in the cold and the dark, the drip of water on the stone floor. She remembered that feeling of being disconnected, of being a spectator in her own body.

She didn't want this, she didn't even want to think about this. She wanted, she realized with a start, to see Percy. Back then, he'd been the only one to even notice anything wrong with her. He'd gotten it all wrong and completely loused it up, of course, but at least he'd noticed. Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, she wondered exactly when she'd started to rely on him again.

She waited until after dinner to make her escape through the mostly-forgotten side door that lead up from the kitchen – stopping to steal that last cookie as she went.

"Where are you off to?" someone said from the vague darkness of the kitchen.

Ginny jumped nearly a foot in the air. "What?"

"I said," Harry repeated, leaning forward, out of the shadows, "where are you going?"

"Wow, so this is you not lurking," she grumbled, then said, "I'm, um, just going out for a little while."

"Where? Are you seeing Dean? Kingsley?" He paused for dramatic effect. "Percy?"

Busted. She was going to kill Hermione.

"What would make you suggest that?"

"Don't play dumb, Gin. You're terrible at it."

Ginny blinked. "No, I'm not."

Harry ignored her, getting up from his chair and totally invading her personal space. "So I think we both know what's about to happen here."

"Trust me," Ginny said, trying to take a step back only to find she was blocked in by the long kitchen table, "when I tell you that I really don't know…"

"I'm coming with you, of course," he said and backed off a little.

The 'or else' was implied, but she called him on it anyway. "Or what?"

"Or I tell your parents what you're up to." He shrugged.

"Oh, of course. Okay, fine, Hermione."

He made a face at her, but grabbed his jacket off the hook near the side door, anyway.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He shoved her gently toward the door.

"Percy's not going to be happy to see you..." she began.

"He'll get over it," Harry said, and shut the door firmly behind them.

There were shadows behind the smoked glass door to Percy's office. Ginny frowned, one hand poised to knock, and looked over her shoulder at Harry.

"Not like that, you silly girl," Percy was saying from inside.

A soft female voice replied, but not loudly enough for Ginny to distinguish any of the words.

She knocked once, softly, then again more sharply. When there was no reply, she looked at Harry, who just shrugged.

"Well, we know he's in there, anyway."

She opened the door to find Percy suspended from the ceiling by an elaborate system of climbing ropes. He was dressed all in black, as was Luna Lovegood, who was standing on tiptoe, reattaching a hook to the back of Percy's black leather jumpsuit.

"Ah," Harry said from above her left shoulder. "I suppose it goes without saying that this is a bad time?"

"This could not possibly get any weirder." Ginny took a step back and bumped into the suddenly reassuring bulk of Harry's chest (which, considering this was Harry, wasn't especially bulky, or usually especially reassuring).

"I said it before," a voice said from the back room, "and I have to say it again. This is a terrible, terrible idea."

The door swung open and Neville, also dressed in black leather, came into the reception area.

"Oh, I spoke too soon," Ginny said, this time stepping away from Harry and sitting down on a nearby sofa. "It can get much, much weirder."

"Apparently," Harry said softly, sitting down himself on the arm of the sofa.

Percy reached up and unfastened himself from the cables, falling to the floor with a distinct thud.

"This is not," he said, sitting up and attempting to straighten his glasses, "what it looks like."

"Really? Because it looks like you're all about to do some cat burglar-ing…"

"Oh, we are," Luna said, apparently unconcerned.

"You're going to have to start at the beginning," Ginny said. "Speak slowly and don't leave anything out." She paused, considering. "Unless it's anything that might require me to bleach my brain afterward…"

"Honestly, Ginny," Percy said. "That's rather melodramatic, don't you think?"

Harry gave him a look of undisguised loathing that gave her a jolt. She'd managed to forget somehow over the last few months how much really bad blood there still was between Percy and the rest of the family, Harry included.

"I don't think so," she continued, pretending she hadn't noticed. "I'm not the one dressed like the Pink Panther, am I?"

"The Pink Panther was the diamond," Harry muttered. "Not the jewel thief – and how do you even know about that, anyway?"

"I hired Percy," Luna interrupted. "Neville and I need someone to help us find something."

"What exactly?"

"Something rather important," Luna replied, and Ginny suspected that she was, for once, being intentionally vague and incomprehensible. A meaningful look passed between her and Neville that made it clear they weren't telling the whole story.

Percy, though, was apparently not in on the conspiracy, because he said, "It's a prophecy, housed at the Ministry of Magic. Apparently, it says something about Neville here…" He trailed off, noticing that Luna and Neville both suddenly looked very shifty.

"You wouldn't!" Ginny said, staring at the pair of them. "After what happened last time? And you didn't even bother to tell Percy what it was? Do you want to get yourselves killed?"

"But it's entirely different this time…" Neville began, two spots of bright pink burning on his cheeks. "That's the whole point, and the reason we didn't want to tell Harry."

"And you didn't tell Percy because…?"

"Because we don't know what it says yet," Luna said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "How could we know whether to trust him with it when we don't even know what it says? We just know that it's important, and that the Death Eaters wanted it…"

"Wait just one minute!" Percy cut in hotly. "You were about to send me after something that a bunch of Death Eaters are looking for?"

"More like something they've already tried to steal! I can't believe you two would do this."

"Wait," Percy said, realization dawning on his face. "This was it – the thing – that You-Know-Who broke into the Ministry to steal last summer…"

Harry had remained rather worryingly silent throughout the whole exchange. He looked up, catching Neville in his gaze. Neville went even redder than he already was.

"Harry-"

"So you're going to steal the prophecy, the one we already stole…" Harry frowned darkly, a look Ginny recognized as the first sign of an impending meltdown.

"But I thought it was destroyed…" Ginny said, quickly, hoping that it was true.

"That was only a copy. Clearly, they must have made another."

"They made a copy?" Harry said, looking incredulous. "How blindingly stupid are they? Maybe next they'll just put up a nice sign that says, 'Hey, Voldemort! Come and get it!'"

"Well," Percy said, straightening his collar fussily, "Ministry Decree #5278 clearly states that all known prophecies must be properly registered and a copy kept at all times in the Hall of Prophecy…" He trailed off. "What?"

Ginny shook her head. "I just remembered why I wasn't speaking to you for the better part of a year. You're a prat."

"Nevertheless," he continued smoothly. "I think it's quite unlikely that another attempt will be made to steal it – at least not by Death Eaters," he conceded. "They had surprise on their side last summer, an advantage that is long gone. Now that everyone knows he's returned, if I were V-" He coughed slightly. "If I were You-Know-Who, I'd simply wait."

"Wait for what?"

Percy folded his hands. "I'd wait until I'd overrun the Ministry and then simply take it at my leisure."

Ginny frowned at him. "I'm not sure I like how easy it is for you to slip into evil genius mode…"

Harry ignored her, and said, "That's a fair point. You're probably right." He paused. "So if we take it, they'll simply make another?"

"Yes, they have to under the law."

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, the storm-warning expression gone from his face – and replaced by something equally worrying.

"Harry," Ginny began. "I'm not sure now is the time for another one of your brilliant plans…"

He refused to so much as look at her, though, turning to Neville again instead. "How were you planning to get it, though? No one else can touch it, you know that."

"I can touch it," Neville said abruptly. "My Gran told me I can."

"Really?" Harry didn't look upset; he looked intrigued, almost hopeful.

"I got home last month and the first thing Gran does is sit me down and tell me I'm some chosen one… Or, at the very least, I'm the 'second choice' chosen one. So I figured we should find out what it says. I figured that if there's any chance it's about me that I have right to know."

At this last, Harry looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"You know what it says," Ginny said, realization dawning. "You know what it says and you didn't tell us."

"I know what it says," Harry admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets, "but I still think it's better that we have our own copy, with D-" He shook his head. "We just should."

Neville narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You know what it says? Is it really about me? Is that what all that nonsense was about at my birthday?"

"Kind of," Harry said, not meeting anyone's gaze. "It's complicated."

"Maybe you'd like to share with the group?"

Harry sighed. "I think that if you really want to hear it, you should hear it directly – not from me."

"Fine, then," Neville said. "That was the plan anyway."

"What is the actual plan?" Harry asked. "Last time we just walked right in the front door…"

"Don't be ridiculous." Percy gave him a look that was classic, old school Percy: surprise, disdain and just a hint of superciliousness. Ginny pinched him. "Ouch!"

"He's right though, Harry," Neville said. "The Death Eaters cleared the place out for us last time, didn't they?"

"Oh," Harry said. "Yeah, I hadn't thought of that." A pause. "So how were you going to get in then?"

"There's a series of tunnels leading in and out, dating back to the early, oh, sixteenth or seventeenth centuries. They were originally used for smuggling…" Percy broke off, looking as though he realized he'd lost the attention of everyone in the room except Luna. "Anyway, the tunnels are still there and they can be accessed from both outside and inside the Ministry in case of emergency."

"So, basically, you're planning to sneak in from above."

Percy nodded.

"Hence the, uh-" Harry gestured vaguely at their cat burglar get-ups.

"Right." Percy took off his glasses and cleaned them. "There are protective charms and wards on the entrances to the tunnels, of course, but…"

"But what?"

Percy shrugged. "I know a guy. I've got the most recent countercharms, and we'll simply have to break through the wards. The charms are the more difficult part, so we shouldn't face too much of a challenge."

"Oh, is that all?" Harry murmured, but Ginny could tell he was a t least a little impressed by Percy's plan.

"Isn't that a little risky?" Ginny said.

"We're breaking into one of the most secure buildings in the wizarding world," Percy replied. "Of course it's risky. However, your friends here are willing to pay an almost obscene amount of money for the pleasure, so…"

Harry, though, was apparently done listening. "When do we go?"

"What's this 'we'…?" Percy said.

"Don't be an idiot. Of course I'm coming with you."

"Me too!" Ginny said. She was damned if she would let them leave her behind. "Harry, tell them…"

Harry was quiet for a moment, giving her that odd, searching look again, the one he'd had since their trip down Knockturn Alley. "Ginny, too," he said, after the moment had passed.

"No…" Percy said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Ginny and I are both coming with you – or else."

Ginny made a face. "He pulled this on me earlier. I think he means it, though."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I call the Order of the Phoenix and tell them what you lot are up to."

"He'll do it," Ginny said. "He's a total tattletale; he's had lessons from the master."

Percy gave her a very sour look. "I want to go on record as being completely opposed to this."

"Come on, Percy. What could go wrong?" She grinned at him. "Got an extra pair of leather pants?"

Percy swore off babysitting when he was sixteen. This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that his last official babysitting charge had been brainwashed and ultimately abducted by the disembodied spirit of the most evil wizard ever – and that all this happened quite literally under his nose, without him noticing so much as a hair out of place.

Yet, somehow, here he was, four years later, once again babysitting Ginny – Ginny and three of her friends, including Harry Potter, the Boy Who Mucked Everything Up and Got Percy Sacked in the First Place.

This did not put him in an especially patient or forgiving frame of mind; neither did their impending attempt at breaking and entering his former place of employment. Added to that was the fact that, if Harry was to be believed, the last time they'd done this they'd walked straight into a Death Eater trap and managed to get several people very seriously cursed and at least one person very seriously dead.

Percy wasn't at all sure he actually believed Harry, but it worried him nonetheless.

What worried him most immediately, though, was the yawning darkness of the deep underground shaft at his feet. Wind that seemed to come from nowhere howled through the wide opening. It was, without a doubt, their best way down into the heart of the Ministry – but, now, faced with the reality of the thing, Percy was having second thoughts.

"Are you absolutely sure this isn't some weird attempt at suicide?" Ginny asked from beside him, apparently having some second thoughts herself. "You have been awfully depressed lately..."

"If it was, I can guarantee I wouldn't be taking any of you lot with me," he replied tartly. "With my luck, I'd get stuck with you for all eternity."

Ginny laughed. "Okay, that's fair. I don't think any of us want to be stuck with The Boy Who Moped until the end of days."

He lowered his voice. "I do wish you'd go home, Ginny. This is going to be dangerous."

"First, I've actually successfully broken into the Ministry before, which makes me more qualified to do this than you. Second, you're fine letting Luna, Neville and Harry get themselves killed, but not me?"

"Yes."

Her expression softened a little bit. "That's nice, Percy, but totally stupid."

"I love you, too, Ginny."

She stuck her tongue out at him, but it was fairly half-hearted.

"We're just about ready, if you two feel like joining us any time soon," Harry said, and apparently Percy wasn't the only one feeling cranky about this whole escapade.

"Keep your pants on," Ginny said, walking over to join him. He grabbed the fastenings at her belt rather roughly, yanking her toward him so could attach her harness to the climbing ropes. "Easy, tiger," she said, catching hold of his shoulders for balance, then more softly, "Harry, we don't have to do this..."

"Yes we do," he said shortly, and let go of her. He fastened himself to the lines as well, and looked up, frowning at Percy. "I just don't know about this part. If Hermione were here she'd know some obscure spell so clever we wouldn't need ropes."

"Well, they are magic ropes," Percy said, hooking himself up as well. "Besides, any magic that sophisticated runs a much greater risk of calling attention to our presence. This is the better way to do it."

"That is," Harry said, looking the closest to thoughtful Percy had ever seen him, "an awfully long way down."

For her part, Luna looked worryingly pleased about the prospect. "It reminds me of the Wailing Pit of Despond."

"Which doesn't exist," Ginny said softly.

Luna continued as though she hadn't heard. "Listen to those Keening Crows! I've always wanted to see one! It sounds as though there's a whole flock of them down there."

"Whats?" Harry said, looking a bit concerned.

"They don't exist, either." Ginny paused. "But you still don't want to know... just in case."

Luna took a long step back, got a running start and dived gracefully into the opening. As she descended, Percy could have sworn he heard her shout, "Wheee!"

Neville, looking bit pale, shrugged and jumped in after her.

"If you'd told me a year ago..." Harry said, locking gazes with Ginny, who smiled tightly at him.

"I know, I know. Unlikely heroes."

He reached a hand out to her and, though she hesitated noticeably for a moment, she took it and let him help her up onto the ledge.

"Into another underground den of evil then, is it?"

"I haven't let anything happen to you yet, have I?" He tightened his grip on her hand.

She shook her head. "All right, let's go push our luck," she said, and they jumped, leaving Percy all alone at the top of the shaft.

Percy counted to three, closed his eyes and stepped forward into nothingness.

Their descent was rapid, but controlled – they really were excellent magic ropes, if Percy did say so himself. They reached the bottom of the shaft quickly, and Percy led them down into an old but fairly sizable tunnel that appeared to lead to a dead end.

"Um?" Ginny began, clearly not sure Percy knew what he was doing.

"Through here," Percy said, using his wand to peel away the covering from a large and very ancient vent. Several of the bars were missing, the spaces just large enough for a man to pass through. On the other side were the main lifts that operated in the heart of the Ministry.

"Are you sure this is best way to go? When we were here before-" Neville began.

"Please do as I say," Percy said testily. "This is why you hired me, after all."

He stepped through the grate and peered out into the elevator shaft. The lifts were all resting on the main floor several stories about them.

"It's the ninth floor, if I remember right, so that puts us about one floor up." He quickly conjured a ladder that led from the hatchway down to the ninth floor, then stretched the ladder across the length of the shaft, like a bridge that led straight to the lift doors. Percy strode across and had the doors open in short order. Behind him, Harry shrugged and the others and came trotting across.

Once on the ninth floor, Percy led the way to the Hall of Prophecy, walking a path he'd walked hundreds of times over the past two years. It was slightly eerie to be here again, like looking at an old picture and not quite recognizing yourself. He wondered briefly what the old him would think of an adventure like this and realized that the person he'd been just a few months ago wouldn't even have been able to conceive of doing this.

Once inside the department, Percy stopped the spinning doors easily, moving mechanically and still half lost in his own thoughts, and turned to find Harry watching him, a questioning look on his face.

"How did you know how to do that?"

"I did work here for two years, you know – and I often had to check out different prophecies for transcription and the like. I was probably in this department at least once a week while I was on the Minister's staff." He strode over to one of the doors. "I believe it's this one we want."

"If we'd only known that six months ago," Harry grumbled.

"Well, to be fair, I probably wouldn't have helped you six months ago." Percy opened the door.

"Who says we would have asked? Polyjuice Potion works wonders, you know."

"Ah, I see," he replied, and held the door to let the others pass through ahead of him.

Harry sped up, grabbing Ginny by the arm. "No hummingbirds this time..."

"Only if you promise not to go chasing ghosts through any veils..." she replied tartly.

"That's a cheap shot, Gin," Harry said, dropping his voice. Luna and Neville went on, apparently unable to hear them, but Percy, bringing up the rear, could hear every word.

"That doesn't stop it from also being true. That isn't why you wanted to come here, is it? I wondered."

There was a long, dangerous silence, but finally Harry said, "No, it isn't."

"Promise?"

"What do you want me to do? Swear it in blood?"

"Maybe, as long as the blood isn't mine..."

"Row 97, wasn't it?" Neville said from up ahead.

"Unless they've moved it..."

"Oh, no," Percy heard Ginny say as he rounded the corner.

"What? What is it?"

"They did move it," Harry said, looking unacceptably calm about this development.

"Moved it where?"

Neville swallowed hard, and pointed. "Up there."

High above the rows of shelves now hung an old-fashioned bird cage with a single glass orb inside.

"Are we quite sure that's the one?"

"It's not on its usual shelf, and what other prophecy would they go to all that trouble for?"

This was a fair point, Percy had to agree. He tried to summon the thing, to no avail.

"Well, I think they've put some simple countercharms on it, but there doesn't seem to be much more protection than that. We won't be able to summon it, so it may need to be touched by human hands in order to be moved."

Harry frowned. "We can float somebody up there to get it, assuming there aren't any other boobytraps..."

"There aren't," Percy said. "Ministry Regulation #9487, sub-section B, clearly states what types of security mechanisms can be employed within the Department of Mysteries..."

"Unless they've changed that too."

"They haven't," Percy said firmly.

"And you know that because...?"

He wasn't about to admit that he still read all the regularly published Ministry regulatory reports avidly when they came out. Instead, he said, "I just do. That's why you're paying me, remember?"

Neville shrugged, and looked over at Harry. "So, up someone goes then?"

"I'll do it," Luna said, looking quite pleased. "Or Ginny."

"It has to be one of us. We're the smallest and the lightest," Ginny said before anyone even had a chance to think about protesting. "It's the only way that makes sense and you know it."

"But you're-" Neville began.

"Girls?" She raised an eyebrow. "Now is so not the time to have that conversation, but rest assured we will come back to it later."

Percy sighed just perceptibly, and took out his wand. "Luna?"

Ginny made a face at him, but stepped back and let Luna go. Percy floated her slowly up until she was high above the shelves.

Nearly up to the birdcage, she looked down at them all. "This is really quite pleasant."

Luna grabbed the prophecy, her pale hair floating weightlessly around her face. No protective spells triggered or alarms sounded. She looked like she was enjoying herself immensely, as she floated back to the floor. She reached out dreamily and handed the glass ball over to Harry, who shoved it into a pocket.

"Okay, let's get out of here."

Their retreat was orderly and largely without incident, though Ginny did give Harry a supremely dirty look as they walked past one of the closed doors in the entrance to the department that Percy assumed had something to do with their earlier argument. Back in the tunnels, Percy moved to close up the vent into the elevator shaft.

"I'll need some help to close this up again," he said. "No sense leaving a calling card, is there?"

"I'll help," Harry said. "Neville, you too. Girls, head back up to the top."

"I thought Percy was in charge..." Ginny began.

"Take it." Harry shoved the prophecy at her. "Get going."

"Fine, fine," she said, taking it and Luna's hand and scrambling up to where they'd left the climbing lines.

The grate sealed, Percy, Neville and Harry followed – and Percy began to allow himself to relax a bit.

He really should have known better.

They were nearly out when an ominous sound, like far-off thunder, rumbled to life in the darkness of the shaft below them.

"What-" Ginny looked down, holding the faintly glow orb up like a torch.

Neville and Harry exchanged a look in the dim light, both clearly thinking about all Luna's talk of Keening Crows.

"Are those-?"

"No," Ginny said. "They're just bats, which – ick – but they're nothing too terrible."

"Just bats?" Percy said, straining to see for himself. "How many bats are we talking about?"

No one answered his question, though, because, quite suddenly, they were enveloped in a black cloud of screeching monsters with yellow eyes and leathery wings.

"Oh my," Luna said, which did not seem at all to convey the seriousness of the situation in Percy's opinion.

"Keep moving!" Harry said from somewhere above. "We're almost there."

But then, with a sickening snap, one of the lines broke. They all hung, suspended, for a fraction of a second, frozen in time. Then Ginny fell, the glass ball tumbling from her grasp. Percy reached out and caught her by the hand to stop her fall, the impact of her weight straining his own climbing line. Luna tried to catch the prophecy and missed. With his free hand, Percy pulled out his wand. He couldn't summon it back to him thanks to the countercharm, but he could at least cast a spell quickly to slow its descent, so it wouldn't break.

"Percy, can you mend this?" Neville had grabbed the severed end of Ginny's broken rope and slid down beside them, kicking a particularly large bat aside as he did. "None of us are really supposed to be doing any magic..." As though underage magic was the biggest of their worries at the moment.

"Yes, I think so," he replied, beginning to sweat a bit from the effort of holding both Ginny and his wand. He managed it though. So much for his unbreakable ropes, though. He hadn't anticipated a direct attack by vampire bats, but still, they should have held.

Ginny dangled there for a moment, breathing rapidly. She refastened her mended line, looked down at where the softly glowing orb was disappearing into the darkness, then turned up to look at them all. "I'm closest. I'll get it."

"No-" Harry began, but it was too late.

She took a deep breath and let go of Percy's hand.

"I said no!" Harry sounded furious. "Ginny, it isn't worth it."

But she was already gone, back down into the dark.

For a long minute there was nothing but darkness and the wind from a thousand beating wings above them. Then, they heard her voice float up to them, "Well, get going! I'm right behind you."

They emerged from the shaft in a rush of wind and wheeling bats – everyone except Ginny.

"Damn it," Harry said, unfastening himself from the climbing lines and stalking back over to the shaft opening. "Damn it, Ginny."

"I got it, didn't I?" Percy could hear her say as Harry reached into the opening, ignoring the last of the bats, grabbed her rope and began to pull.

Harry hauled her up and put her back on solid ground, looking mere seconds away from physically shaking some sense into her. Percy could relate.

"Home free," Ginny said, a little shakily, clutching the glass ball in one white-knuckled hand, but she managed to smile at them all. "See, nothing to it."

"I need a very stiff drink," Percy said, opening the door to the office, heading straight for his desk and the emergency bottle of firewhiskey he had stashed in a bottom drawer.

"Hey, we did what we went there to do, at least," Harry said, following him in.

"Whee!" Luna said from the outer office.

"That girl is not quite right…" Percy said, sitting down and pouring himself two fingers of whiskey. Harry raised an eyebrow meaningfully at him, and Percy reluctantly produced a second glass. "You're a bit young, don't you think?"

"I fought the evilest wizard of all time before I hit puberty. Pour me a drink."

That was a fair point, so he did.

Harry finished his drink in two fairly heroic goes, though his eyes did water a bit. "So here's the thing, Percy. I think you're a wanker."

Percy poured himself a second shot. "Most people do. Get in the queue."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, then actually laughed. "Okay, not what I was expecting." He laughed again. "I was going to say… I think you're a wanker, but what you did tonight was pretty great. You're good at this."

Except, of course, for the part where he'd nearly got his sister killed – again. But all he said in reply was, "I didn't expect to be. A singing demon told me I was supposed to save the world, and it all just sort of snowballed."

Harry tilted his head to one side, looking at Percy like he'd never truly seen him before. "Someday you will have to tell me that story."

"Guys? We're ready to listen to it," Neville said, from the doorway, holding the glass orb.

"Okay," Harry said, standing. "Neville and I will-"

"That's not how this works," Percy heard himself say. "No secrets. I can't help you if I don't have all the information."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, then reconsidered. "Okay," he said. "All right." He looked like the proverbial light bulb had gone on. "Why shouldn't we all know? Bring the girls in here."

When they were all gathered around, he set the glass ball on the desk and touched it once, lightly.

It was, like most prophecies in Percy's experience, wordy, opaque and grossly overblown. It also made it pretty clear that Harry's goose was likely pretty cooked.

"Holy crap," Ginny said, and Percy thought that summed it up very well.

"So," Neville said slowly, "you have to- and if you can't, I guess I have to-"

"No, no," Harry said. "That's not exactly what it means."

"According to who?"

"Well, Dumbledore said that because Voldemort thought it meant me that he chose me…"

"That does make sense," Luna said, as though she was the world's authority on things that made sense, "but it's also only one way of looking at it."

A very significant look passed between her and Neville.

"Why don't we find out for ourselves," Neville said, "rather than just believing everything we're told?"

"Not just about this," Luna said seriously. "About everything. We finally have an opportunity to do it now…"

"How so?" Percy asked.

"By working here, of course," Luna said, still looking pink-cheeked and a bit elated from their caper.

"That is an utterly ridiculous idea…" Percy began.

"Really? I don't see why we couldn't."

"I think it's a good idea," Ginny said. "In fact, I can't believe I didn't think of it myself."

They all looked at Harry, who, in turn, looked at Percy. "They don't tell us anything. Even after- Even after everything that's happened, they treat us like children and keep us in the dark. Dumbledore promised not to do that anymore, but he's- he's gone now." He paused heavily. "Luna's right. If they won't help us, we ought to try and do something ourselves."

Then, as one, they all turned and looked to Percy.

"What do you say?" Ginny prompted gently. "Will you help us?"

He ought to, he knew, throw the lot of them out onto the street and then give Ginny a stern talking-to about responsibility and discretion and following directions and… somehow he couldn't.

He put out his hand. "All right – but only until Hogwarts opens again, and you have to promise not to do anything foolish. I'm the boss here, not because I want to be or because I don't think you can handle yourselves, but because my name is the one on that door. That makes me responsible for your safety. If you can't agree to that, we don't have a deal."

Slowly, Harry nodded. He came forward and put his hand on top of Percy's. So did Neville, followed by Luna. Grinning, Ginny slid off the desk and put her hand atop everyone's.

"Go team," she said.

Kingsley, for his part, proved less than impressed with Percy's decision.

He showed up at the office a few days later with a stack of background checks for Percy to process and halted in the doorway, staring at the reception desk where Ginny sat lacquering her nails.

"Kingsley!" she said brightly, and then amended, "I mean, welcome to Weasley Consulting. How may I help you?"

Kingsley pointedly ignored her and pushed past Neville, Luna and Harry and into Percy's office. "What are they doing here?"

"Interning," Percy replied mildly. "For their Defense Against the Dark Arts credit."

"Damn it all, Percy," Kingsley hissed. "You know as well as I do that they haven't any Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

"All the more reason for them not to neglect their studies." Percy took off his glasses and cleaned an imaginary spot from the lenses. "It's all quite official, I assure you. I have signed permission forms from their families and Minerva McGonagall."

"Forged, you mean."

"The signatures seemed quite legitimate to me…"

Kingsley tossed his stack of papers on the desk and flung himself into the chair across from Percy in defeat.

"You can't keep them locked up forever, Kingsley. It will only lead to one of them doing something rash."

At that, a shadow crossed Kingsley's face. "Perhaps, but-"

"At least this way I can keep an eye on them. I know I might not have been Dumbledore's choice to do that – or my parents' – but they came to me and I'm going to help them."

"Be careful, kid. Dumbledore himself had- has a hard enough time keeping tabs on Harry."

Percy glanced over Kingsley's shoulder to the reception area where Ginny and Harry were bent over a dusty old book. Harry leaned in to turn the page before Ginny had finished. She slapped him smartly on the hand and gave him a frankly murderous look. Harry backed off immediately.

"You know, I think I'll be all right in that regard." He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "I have a secret weapon."

Kingsley followed Percy's gaze. "Yeah, maybe you do." He paused. "Don't be afraid to let me know if you need help, though."

"Afraid?"

Kingsley sighed. "You know what I mean. You don't exactly have the best track record of asking for help when you need it."

Kingsley left the stack of background checks when he went, and Percy began dividing them up into equal piles.

"So," he addressed his young charges, "I have your first assignment."

They all crowded around him eagerly.

"What is it?" Neville asked. "A Death Eater plot?"

"Vampires?" said Harry.

"An infestation of Midlothian Barking Beasties?" Luna suggested.

"Hardly. Background checks on Ministry employees." There was a very extended silence. Ginny blinked. Percy shook his head. "What were you expecting exactly?"

"Adventure! Excitement! Really wild things…"

"That's on Tuesdays," he replied dryly, and went to grab his coat. Having left the office in what he hoped were marginally capable hands, Percy went out to tea.

"You're late," Celia said when he walked in, but with a smile. "I ordered your usual."

"Thanks," he replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

"So," she said, leaning her chin on her hands and looking at him with such fondness that his heart sped up a little, "saved the world yet today?"

"That was yesterday." He smiled at her. "As of today, though, I officially have sidekicks."

"Do you?" She laughed. "I'd make a Batman joke, but I doubt you'd know what I was talking about."

The waiter brought Percy a pot of tea, and refilled Celia's coffee cup. Rain was drumming, not unpleasantly, on the windows and for the first time in a very long time Percy felt almost content.

"What are you doing around eight?" he asked, suddenly feeling bold. "I thought I might take you out tonight."

She blinked. "You mean like a date?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets and somehow found that he couldn't quite meet her eye. "Well, sure."

"Just so we're clear here: this is an actual date. Like between a boy and a girl."

"Yes, already!" Percy said, his face flushing.

Celia nodded, looking perfectly serious. "Just checking. I'll see you at eight."

At five minutes till eight, Percy was stalling. He lingered in the corridor outside Celia's flat, unable to make himself knock on the door; his palms may or may not have been sweating. He raised his fist to the door, but hesitated at the last moment.

Be a man, Percy. He could hear the echo of Ginny's voice in his head.

"Fine then," he muttered to himself, and knocked.

"Hi," Celia said, opening the door. She was wearing a dangerous black dress and dangling earrings that looked like they were made from quicksilver. It took a moment before Percy could find his voice.

"I hope you're speechless in the good way…" she said, leaning against the half-open door and raising an eyebrow at him.

"I-" He cleared his throat. "The good way, definitely. You look lovely."

"Well, that's a relief." She shrugged into her coat. "It took me all evening to pick something."

"I don't believe that for a minute," he said, offering her his arm.

He took her to a cozy basement bar in an old red-brick building. Luke had assured him that this was the hottest place going, and ideal for impressing a first date. It was not the sort of place that Percy would normally have picked himself, for a variety of reasons – not least of which was the fact that pretty much everyone they'd known at school was likely to be there. A few months ago there wouldn't have been enough gold in the world to get Percy to go. Now, though…

They did get a few questioning looks on their way in. Percy knew he'd been pretty conspicuous by his absence from, well, the world these past months. With Celia on his arm, though, he found that he didn't mind the attention quite so much.

"Nice choice, Weasley," she said, grinning up at him as he took her coat and pulled her chair out for her. "Surprising, but nice."

Moved by some territorial impulse, Percy put an arm across the back of her chair when he sat down. She looked up, surprised but also a little pleased.

"Buy me a drink? You did promise me a proper date, after all."

He signaled the waiter to bring them a bottle of wine, then said, "How am I doing so far?"

"Not too shabby…"

"Percy!" Oliver Wood bounded out of the crowd and up to their table. "It's been ages."

Percy had always liked Oliver, though he couldn't imagine anyone more different from himself. It was hard not to like Oliver; it was hard not to appreciate his enthusiasm for, well, everything.

"Hi, Oliver. How've you been?"

"Good, good!" He slapped Percy, a bit too roughly, on the back. "I heard about the Ministry, by the way. I'm sure that's not what you want to talk about on a night out at the pub, but… Well, I just thought you should know that I think you got a bum deal. Lots of people do."

"Thanks," Percy said, and found for the first time in months that he really didn't mind talking about it.

"Say there- Celia? I don't know if you'll remember me…"

"Of course I do," she said, smiling at him. "I caught a bit of the match on the wireless yesterday, as a matter of fact. Nice play at the end there..."

If Oliver had grinned any wider, his face might have split. "Glad to hear it!" He grabbed Percy by the hand and shook it so enthusiastically that Percy's glasses slipped down his nose. "Anyway, I'll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to come over and say hello. You've been missed, Perce, really." He also gave Percy a huge thumbs-up as he turned to go, mouthing, She's corking, mate.

As though Oliver's visit had defused some sort of tension, they were suddenly flooded with a stream of visitors – mostly Percy's school friends, but some of Celia's as well. When they were alone again, he looked over at Celia, color in her cheeks and a smile on her face, and realized it was the happiest he'd seen her since June. She turned to him, and he realized he must have looked quite the same.

She reached over and put her hand over his. "This is nice, Percy. Thank you. I'm not sure I would have had the nerve to come here on my own…"

"Me either, to be honest."

A wild burst of laughter came suddenly from the far corner of the bar, causing Percy to jump and spill his drink. Someone stepped to one side and Percy had an unobstructed view of the table. Of course. He ought to have known – seated in the center of the action, as always, were Fred and George. He tried to look away before they noticed him, but it was too late. George elbowed Fred in the ribs and pointed in Percy's direction.

Percy cursed softly under his breath, causing Celia to look over his shoulder at them. She frowned. "Do you know them?"

Percy just cursed again.

"Do you?" Celia said. "They certainly seem rather interested in you."

"Yes, well… Those are my brothers."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Two of them at least, though I suppose the others might be around here somewhere."

"Rather conspicuous, aren't they?"

"It's their forte," Percy said dryly, trying to keep from looking in their direction again.

"Hey…" She leaned forward, hooked an arm around his neck, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

When she pulled away, Percy, pink to the tips of his ears, said, "Whatever did you do that for?"

She shrugged. "I don't think I want anyone or anything else getting more of your attention tonight than I do. Sound fair?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "More than fair," he said, but he waved their waiter over and paid their bill as soon as he could.

"Let's go." He stood. "We were having a perfectly lovely time, and I don't want it to get ruined."

"Sure," she said. "I understand." She glanced sidelong at him. "I'm wildly curious, but I understand."

"None of that now," he chided, but it really didn't bother him as much as it might once have. He helped her into her coat, and they walked out the door and up the steps.

"Where to, Weasley?" Celia asked.

Percy took her hand and began walking briskly away from the building. "Somewhere a little less crowded?"

"Hey! Percy!" someone called from the steps. Percy looked back. It was one of the twins, closely followed by the other. Percy was too far away to immediately tell which was which. They sped up, swaying slightly up the steps, trying to catch up.

"Yeah," said the second twin. "We've got a thing or two to say to you."

He pointed an accusatory finger at Percy, and then the building exploded behind them.

The next few seconds passed in a disjointed blur of noise, light and broken glass. Percy was thrown hard onto the wet pavement, landing face-down. An alarm began to scream somewhere off to his left. Percy rolled over, blinking plaster dust from his eyes. His glasses had gone, but miraculously he found them lying on the ground, scratched but unbroken. Celia, though, was lying a few feet away, very pale and very still. He scrambled over to her on his hands and knees.

"Celia?" He leaned over her. "Celia!"

There was an ugly knot on her head and a gash on her cheek, but she had a strong pulse and, outwardly at least, appeared mostly unharmed. Percy fumbled for his wand. She gasped and sat up.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so." She struggled to get up. Percy took her by the arm and helped her to her feet. She was cradling her right arm, and put her good hand to her head as though she felt dizzy. "Percy, what happened?"

"I don't know." He looked around, scanning the rubble for any sign of Fred or George. The top two floors of the building appeared to have blown outward, the roof collapsing inward. The rest of the structure, including the basement, was still mostly intact – for the moment. Bricks and shattered glass littered the street; the street lamp had burst from the force of the blast making it nearly impossible to see where the twins might have been.

"We need light," Celia said, rescuing her tiny evening bag from the pavement and digging rather unsuccessfully for her wand.

"Here," Percy said, taking it from her gently and locating her wand. "Will you even be able to do anything with your left hand?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" She took the wand from him, holding it rather awkwardly. "Let's find your brothers. Come on."

"Wait-" He fixed his glasses quickly, then stripped off his jacket and sliced it into long pieces, using one to fashion a makeshift sling for Celia's right arm and stuffing the others into his pockets for potential use as bandages.

"That's smart, Percy," she said. "Good thinking, and thank you." She removed her own coat as well, wincing as she moved her right arm, and did the same, despite the fact that her dress did absolutely nothing to keep out the cold.

They picked their way through shattered bricks and mortar, Celia's high heels crunching the slivers of glass on the pavement. The building listed ominously above them, making an eerie moaning noise as supports buckled under the sudden weight of the collapsed roof. They approached the entrance to the basement where Percy had last seen the twins, but all he could see was more debris. Bits of burning parchment floated down from the upper floors, turning to ash and falling like snow around them. There on the sidewalk, finally, was George. He was propped up against the wrought iron railing, ash collecting in his hair, looking for all the world as though he was just taking a bit of a kip.

"George!" Percy hurried over, Celia's hand still on his arm.

"Percy, if he's-" she began, but it wasn't necessary. George was bruised and bloodied, but still very much alive.

"Come on, we have to move him."

"Percy, no! We don't know the extent of his injuries. We can't just move him; we might do more harm than good."

Percy blinked at her. "We can move him without moving him. We have magic."

"Oh, of course we do." She looked down at her wand. "I think I might be a bit hysterical, just so you know."

"Well," he said, moving George a safe distance from the building, "you're managing it rather well, if that's any consolation."

"Not really, but I'll take what I can get." She knelt beside George. "I'll take care of him. Go find your other brother."

Celia woke George, who grinned up at her, obviously still a bit disoriented. "Say," he said. "If this is heaven, I'm not complaining…"

"Hold still," she said briskly, ignoring him. "I need to make sure you aren't permanently damaged. You know, I think you're lucky that you're rather drunk, otherwise you'd have been hurt much worse…"

Percy, meanwhile, found Fred, dazed and breathing rapidly, at the head of the basement steps. The exterior wall of what had once been the ground floor tilted perilously over the open stairway.

"Move," Percy said, but Fred didn't reply. His eyes were still half closed. "We've got to move!" Percy repeated, grabbing him by the armpits and hauling him into the street just as the wall collapsed, effectively blocking the only entrance to the basement.

Fred stumbled to his feet, took one look at Percy and socked him in the eye.

"Ow," Percy said, nonplussed, clutching at his eye.

"You utter bastard."

"I just saved your life!"

George jumped to his feet as well, Celia on his heels. He had a piece of Celia's coat wrapped tightly around his left bicep, but didn't appear to be actively bleeding.

"Percy!" George said, balled his fists and made as though to come to Fred's aid.

"What is the matter with all of you?" Celia said, looking shocked. "There are still people in there!"

"You're right," Percy said, taking a step back and reaching a hand out to her. "Help is likely on the way, but it might be too late. The building could collapse any moment. We have to see what we can do." He paused significantly. "And then we can settle anything that still needs settling."

"I'll see what I can do about keeping those walls up as long as possible," Celia said, taking off toward the corner of the block.

"George, go with her."

"Where do you get off…?"

"Go." Even to his own ears, his tone left no room for argument. "Fred, help me with the stairs, if you're up to it."

Fred seemed to take that as a challenge and plunged down what was left of the stairs, wielding his wand with a vengeance. After a few minutes, George joined him with equal enthusiasm. Between the three of them, they managed to dig a very large hole in the rubble, quickly if not especially carefully.

Celia appeared at the top of the steps, looking rather peaked from the effort of casting the strongest protection spells possible around the remaining floors of the building.

"It will hold, but not forever," she said, inspecting their progress. "How long do you think-?"

"I don't know. It really depends what shape the basement itself is in, and if anyone's even still…" He left the words unsaid, but Celia nodded in understanding. He looked pointedly at Fred and George. "And assuming those two don't bring the whole thing down on us with their carelessness."

"Have a little more faith in my spellwork than that, won't you?" she said. "Besides, I don't mind so long as the Wonder Twins there are hitting rock and bricks and not you."

Percy wiped dirt and sweat from his forehead and managed to smile at her. "I appreciate your concern."

She reached out to hold onto his shoulder, jumped down into the stairwell with him and began to help.

"Hey, hey!" Fred called from the bottom. "I found the door."

All four of them moved to clear the doorway of debris. Once it was clear, they pulled the door from its hinges, but only found more dirt and brick behind it.

"Keep digging," George said, climbing over a wooden beam and into the gap where the door had been.

From behind the remaining large pieces of rock, Percy could hear voices.

"I can hear them!" He abandoned his wand altogether and heaved the last chunks of cement to the side with his bare hands. The hole was just big enough for a man to crawl through.

"Percy!" Oliver Wood's face appeared in the opening. "Oh man, are we glad to see you."

A cheer went up from the darkness behind Oliver. George and Celia embraced in celebration, George letting out a whoop. Fred shoved Percy roughly to the side, though.

"Look out, Percy. We've got to reinforce this thing before we start hauling people out."

"Well, get to it then." Once Fred had finished, Percy turned back to the opening. "All right, Oliver. Let's get you all out of there."

Oliver nodded and started helping the others through the opening. He hoisted a petite girl with a gash across her forehead up into Percy's arms. Celia immediately took her up the stairs to relative safety and pressed a makeshift bandage to her head.

There had to be at least a hundred people trapped in the pub, most of them with minor injuries of some sort. When they ran out of strips of Percy's and Celia's coats to use for bandages, Fred and George shed their sweaters and began tearing pieces from their undershirts.

Percy helped a rather wobbly girl up the stairs to relative safety. As he handed her off to one of the twins, he saw a group of people on brooms dive toward the pavement and begin to dismount. He recognized the figure in front immediately.

"Kingsley!"

"Oh, kid." Kingsley hit the ground running, tossing his broom smoothly aside. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

"It took you long enough to get here…"

"Yeah," Kingsley said grimly. "We ran into some trouble on the way."

The Aurors did look somewhat worse for wear, but they streamed into the street efficiently setting up perimeters and supplies, and generally taking charge.

Tonks appeared at Kingsley's elbow. "Any dead?"

Kingsley looked to Percy for confirmation.

"Not that we know of. Not yet, at least."

Percy led them over to the stairway, where the stream of survivors coming through the opening had stemmed – and not a moment too soon. Despite Celia's best efforts to keep the walls reinforced, the downward pull of gravity was becoming too much for even magic to hold back.

Fred and George both sprinted to the opening, trying to convince Oliver to come through. "Come on, Oliver. You're the last one in there-"

"Hang on, I need to be sure," he said, even as the nearest fall of bricks began to shudder ominously, the spells finally starting to give way. "We can't leave anyone behind."

"There's no more time," Percy called into the darkness. "Oliver…"

"Okay, okay…"

They pulled him free just as the spell failed and a rain of bricks crashed into the opening where he'd been just seconds earlier. Percy coughed violently, masonry dust filling his mouth and nostrils.

"Well," Oliver said, with a slightly manic grin, "that was close."

They emerged from the wreckage with Oliver, limping, supported between Percy and George. The street was total bedlam, and yet beyond some magical barrier Muggle traffic sped past, completely oblivious to the chaos.

"The building's going. You'd better get everyone clear," Percy called in Kingsley's general direction, picking up as much speed as he could with half Oliver's not-inconsiderable weight on his shoulder.

"I guess I'm out for the match versus Holyhead, eh?" Oliver said, still grinning.

"You know they're going to say you're just scared to play a bunch of girls, right?" George said, smiling in relief as well, and aimed Oliver in the direction of the team of St. Mungo's healers who'd now descended on the scene as well.

Percy let them go and looked around for Celia. She was leaning against the ruined lamppost, scanning the crowd, he assumed, looking for him as well. It had started to drizzle and she was shivering violently in her thin dress.

"Celia?"

"I think I may be sick," she said, looking very green, sweating despite the cold, and nearly pitched into Percy's arms. He picked her up and carried her over to where the healers had set up a sort of makeshift triage area.

"She got a nasty knock on the head, but seemed fine until now," he said, setting her down on one of the cots.

"Hello, dear," a plump middle-aged witch said, shining the lit tip of her wand in Celia's right eye and then her left. "Do you know what day it is? And who's the Minister of Magic?"

"October 5th, and Rufus Scrimgeour – the wanker."

The witch laughed. "Well, no permanent damage done then. I think you may have a mild concussion, though…"

Percy breathed a sigh of relief, until the healers immediately began fussing over him as well. He tried to wave them off.

"That's a hell of a shiner, kid," Kingsley said, having come over to check on Celia. "You ought to let them fix it."

Percy relented, on the condition that they give him the cot next to Celia's.

"This isn't quite how I imagined the end to our evening," he said, leaning back and realizing for the first time how bone-tired he was.

Celia, looking much improved, reached across the space between them to briefly lace her fingers with his. "The night's still young, Weasley. Things could start looking up."

In truth, though, Celia was having a very, very bad night.

Despite the fact that the very nice healer had fixed both her sprained wrist and her concussion, she kept coming over all dizzy – something they'd said might happen – as they'd loaded her into a horseless carriage with Percy and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who seemed to be acting as their personal Auror escort. The movement of the carriage kept making her vision swim and her head ache vaguely. She also kept having to fight down the very inappropriate urge to fling herself at Percy and never let go.

She settled for reaching over and grabbing hold of his hand instead.

He looked down, as though surprised, but then looked up again and smiled at her, squeezing her fingers slightly as the carriage lurched to a stop.

Percy turned and looked out the window, then cursed softly. "What are you thinking, Kingsley? Bringing us here?"

"I thought someone should tell your parents that the twins are all right, and on their way home."

"And you couldn't just have sent a note?"

"No, I couldn't." A look passed between the two that Celia couldn't quite interpret. "Come on, out with you. I'll be back soon with the others."

"This is a very bad idea, Kingsley…" Percy said, but climbed out anyway, helping Celia after him.

The carriage took off at a fast clip, leaving them standing in the muddy yard.

"What is it, Percy? What's wrong?"

"This is The Burrow," he said, sighing. "This is where I grew up."

The house was in slight disrepair, though it looked welcoming enough.

"This is where your family lives?"

"Not at the moment, but they must be here tonight," he said, and refused to elaborate on the subject.

Instead of going to the front door, he headed around back to the kitchen entrance, Celia in his wake, trying to keep up despite the mud and her rather impractical shoes.

"They'll be in the kitchen," he said, half to himself, coming to a halt in front a weather-beaten door that didn't hang quite right on its hinges. He took a deep breath, putting Celia slightly behind him as though he half-expected to have to shield her from curses, and knocked.

Nothing happened.

He knocked again, clearly beginning to lose his nerve. "Maybe Kingsley was mistaken-" he said, and shifted his weight as though to turn and walk away.

The door opened abruptly, held by a boy who looked like a carbon copy of Percy, only a few years younger. The boy's eyes widened and he uttered an exclamation completely inappropriate for mixed company. He let the door fall open wider, revealing what had to be nearly Percy's entire family seated around a massive kitchen table, all of them staring, open-mouthed, at the doorway.

"Well," Percy announced, "I'm home."

For a very long moment, no one spoke. A petite, red-haired woman, who had to be his mother, stared at them, clearly caught somewhere between relief and disbelief. Finally, Ginny popped up from behind her mother.

"Percy! Kingsley said-" She paused, her cheeks going quite pink. "I mean, I thought Fred and George were…" She stuttered to a halt, clearly not sure what information could be freely shared in front of whom.

"Fred and George are just fine. They're on their way home," Percy said, very pointedly not looking at anyone but his sister. "Kingsley sent us on ahead to make sure you all knew."

"Oh, Kingsley," Ginny said softly. "Nice try, but…"

On her other side, her father looked up at that, an unreadable expression on his face, but didn't say anything.

"I suppose," his mother said, standing up herself, twisting a dish towel nervously in her hands, "I suppose you'd better come in."

Celia looked up at Percy, expecting him to be smiling or, at the very least, looking relieved. He was all right, his brothers were safe, he'd saved a hundred people nearly singlehandedly tonight – and most importantly his family hadn't tossed them out into the street, at least not yet.

Percy was scowling.

He looked down at her, though, and the crease in the center of his forehead smoothed. "Are you quite sure you're all right?" he said, helping her to a chair at the kitchen table. He reached down and touched her earlobe, gently, and she realized that one of her earrings was gone.

"I told you, I'm fine."

In the light of the kitchen, though, neither of them really looked fine. Percy was filthy, covered in masonry dust and scrapes, his shirt torn and bloodied. Celia caught a glimpse of her own reflection in one of the shiny copper cooking pots. She looked pale as a ghost, shaken, with smudges of dirt and blood on her face.

"What the hell happened tonight?" one of the nearly-identical brothers asked from the head of the table.

Percy shrugged. "I don't know if anyone is quite sure yet. I suppose it could have been an accident…"

"Not likely."

"No," Percy sighed, "it's not very likely."

"Hey," a soft voice said in Celia's ear. Ginny had come to sit beside her. "Here's some coffee."

Celia smiled. "Now that's just what the doctor ordered. Thank you."

Meanwhile, the others were still discussing the explosion and what was being done to clean up in its aftermath. "Can you take us back there? We ought to be helping."

"I-" Percy hesitated, then appeared to come to a decision. "Of course. I imagine they'd be glad of the extra help. The Aurors did seem a bit short-handed."

Percy, his brothers and father all stood and headed toward the door.

"Not you," Mrs. Weasley said, catching the youngest boy by the ear.

Percy turned back and leaned down to Celia. "Will you be all right here with… with Ginny?"

"I should come with you. I'm no use to anyone just sitting here."

"You've already done quite enough for one night, and you're under strict orders to rest. You're very lucky you weren't more seriously hurt."

"Percy…"

"No arguments," he said firmly. "You know I'm right."

"Okay, all right." She put a hand on the back of his neck, holding him there for a moment. "Percy, be careful."

She watched him leave with the others, suddenly aware that his mother was watching her in turn.

The door closed, the kitchen suddenly very quiet, and she found herself alone with Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Percy's youngest brother and a girl who had the distinction of being the only non-redhead (and, Celia assumed, non-Weasley) in the bunch – apart from herself, of course.

"Sooo…" Ginny said into the very awkward silence, drumming her fingers on the tabletop.

"Oh, my! Is that all the coffee?" Mrs. Weasley said, even though there was still enough to keep a small army wired for days – though, to be fair, perhaps not an army of Weasleys, if Ginny was anything to go by. She jumped up and busied herself making another pot.

The boy took advantage of the distraction and edged toward the kitchen door.

Ron…! The girl mouthed at him, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I can see you, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley said, without even turning around. "Try that again and you will regret it. You're not so big that I can't still take you over my knee."

It was patently untrue – the boy was even taller than Percy – but he paled a bit at the threat anyway and sat obediently.

Ginny snickered and refilled Celia's coffee. She wrapped her hands around the cup, trying to warm them. Her head did still hurt, vaguely, but she'd have given anything to be up and moving, doing something useful instead of sitting here trying to figure out what topics of conversation were safe to broach with the estranged family of a man who might or might not be someone very important to her. What did people talk about in these situations anyway? Gossip? Current events? Definitely not. The weather? Yes, that was probably safe.

Clearly, Mrs. Weasley had come to the same conclusion. "It's already quite cold for this time of year, isn't it?" She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "And you without a proper coat."

"Well, I did have one to start but half the people I knew at Hogwarts are currently wearing it as bandages."

"Oh! Oh dear. I'll fetch you something." She paused, considering, then said, "Ginny, if your brother tries to escape again, scream."

"Gladly," Ginny said with a wicked grin in Ron's direction. He stuck his tongue out at her. "Oh, very mature."

Mrs. Weasley returned after a few moments with an obviously homemade sweater and a pair of rather worn house slippers. "Put these on. You must be freezing." She gave Celia's shoes a slightly disapproving glance. "Lord only knows how you can walk in those things."

"Thank you," Celia said, gratefully putting the sweater on and ignoring the commentary on her shoes.

"You'll have to forgive us, of course, for not doing proper introductions," Mrs. Weasley continued, seeming to relax a bit now that she had tasks to occupy her, taking a bottle of Ogden's down from the highest shelf in the pantry, "things being what they are tonight. Though it seems that you already know Ginny…"

"Celia's a friend of Kingsley's," Ginny lied smoothly, and even Celia, who'd once been paid to lie for a living, was impressed.

Ron and the little brunette, who must have been his girlfriend, gave Ginny a look that said they knew otherwise.

Mrs. Weasley came over and tipped a healthy measure of the whiskey into Celia's coffee cup. "There you are. That should help put some color back in your cheeks." She sat across from Celia, folding her hands expectantly. "And how do you know Percy?"

Celia took a very generous drink of her 'improved' coffee and considered her words carefully. "Percy and I worked together at the Ministry."

"Oh!" the brunette said suddenly. "I remember you. You said all those horrible things about Dumbledore."

Celia blinked. "Horrible things?"

"That he was wrong about You-Know-Who, that he was just making things up to make the Minister look bad…"

"Hermione-" Ron grabbed warningly at her wrist, but she shook him off.

"Don't be idiots," Ginny said, folding her arms. "Rude much?"

"It's all right," Celia said, not really sure if it was all right. "I did say those things, it's true. I believed them at the time. I trusted the Ministry, and so did Percy."

There was a long silence, but then Ron suddenly said, "He shouldn't have. He should have trusted his family! Maybe Percy didn't always fit in with the rest of us, maybe some of the things he said were even true… That doesn't make what he did right."

"Did you ever think," she said, not unkindly, "that maybe he thinks the same about all of you?"

He blinked, as though that thought hadn't ever occurred to him before. The awkward moment was saved by the sudden arrival of a post owl.

"Get that, won't you, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley suggested, in the same way a general might 'suggest' a battalion capture enemy artillery.

"You care quite a lot for him," Mrs. Weasley said so only Celia could hear, while Ron, Ginny and Hermione were preoccupied with the owl and its letter.

"He's a good person," Celia replied, unable to stop herself – though maybe that was the whiskey. "He may not always be right, but he always follows his convictions." She paused. "He loves you, all of you. Your good opinion meant everything to him, and once he lost it-"

"Is that what he says? He blames us?"

"He doesn't talk about it, but I can see how much it…"

Ron came back over to the table, holding his letter, looking very grumpy. "It's from Harry. He and Lupin are there helping, of course."

"Hmm," Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Remus and I will have to have a talk about that."

Another owl followed in quick succession after the first. Mrs. Weasley opened the letter and scanned it quickly, her face relaxing. "Arthur says they won't be too much longer. There's not as much damage as they'd feared at first." She upended the envelope and tipped something into her hand. "Here," she said, reaching across the table to Celia. "They found this. Percy said it was yours."

It was her missing earring.

She shook her head. "Oh, Percy. Of all the things…" She put it back on, his mother still watching her.

Without a word, Mrs. Weasley poured another shot of the whiskey into each of their coffee cups. They sat that way, in silence, in the kitchen for another hour at least, Celia watching out the window and Mrs. Weasley watching the hands of a rather unusual clock.

The front door banged open, breaking the silence, and both women jumped.

"They're back!" Ginny called from the sitting room.

Mrs. Weasley rushed through the door. Celia stood to follow her, when the back door opened as well and Percy came in from the yard. He looked thunderous, muttering darkly to himself. Apparently, the rescue mission with his father and brothers hadn't gone particularly well. His face changed when he saw her, though.

"Hi." She crossed the room to get to him, but stopped short of embracing him. "What do you say? Are you about ready to take me home? I think it might be past my curfew."

"Percy?" They jumped slightly apart. Neither of them had noticed his mother come back into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee? Some brandy? I think I still have…" She faltered. "I have some of your things upstairs if you wanted to change into something warmer."

"Take it," Celia said softly. "I know you have to be freezing."

"I guess I could-" Percy began, but the moment was interrupted when the door to the kitchen opened and Kingsley and Mr. Weasley entered.

The three men were very pointedly not looking at one another.

"Did you find- Was anyone killed?" Celia said to Kingsley, attempting to break the tension.

Mrs. Weasley brought him a cup of coffee. "Thanks, Molly." He paused to take a drink, as she poured a cup for her husband as well. "We found a couple dead on the top floors, but all those kids in the pub were saved thanks to some quick thinking." He looked at Percy and Celia. "That was good work, you two."

Celia went to the stove and got Percy a cup of coffee, but he barely touched it.

"We had help." Percy shrugged. "We couldn't have done it alone."

"Still," Kingsley said, and Percy finally looked at him. Both of them relaxed a bit, which just seemed to make Mr. Weasley that much more tense.

"Well, thanks. I'm glad we were there. I'm glad we were all there, anything else aside…"

The door swung open again admitting the twins, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and another brother that Celia hadn't been properly introduced to yet.

"What is he still doing here?" one of the twins demanded, pointing at Percy.

"The way I hear it," Kingsley said mildly, leaning against the stove, "he saved your lives tonight…"

"And was rewarded with a black eye for my trouble," Percy said, handing his practically untouched coffee to his mother without looking at her.

"You promised we'd settle that later," the twin said, moving to roll up his sleeves. "Well, it's later."

Percy took Celia by the elbow. "That's our cue to leave, I think."

"Percy, don't leave yet…" his mother began.

"Why not?" He turned back to his brothers. "After all, we've established that I'd risk my life to save any of yours, but you wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire…"

"That's about the size of it."

"Well, there you have it." Percy turned sharply on his heel and walked out. The door slammed behind him, and all eyes turned to Celia. She swallowed hard.

"I guess we'll be going then, is that it?"

Feeling very exposed, she gathered her things and crossed the kitchen. Neither Ginny nor Mrs. Weasley would quite meet her eye.

"Hey-" Kingsley began as she passed him.

"Leave it for another time, won't you?"

She pushed open the door Percy had just exited through. He stood at the window in the large, somewhat shabby sitting room, staring out at the muddy yard. She had a hard time, she had to admit, imagining him growing up in this place. It was so unlike the Percy she knew. She walked up behind him and slid a hand along the line of his shoulder blade. His muscles tensed and he half-turned to see who was touching him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He shrugged noncommittally. "We should go. I don't want to wear out our welcome, after all," he said bitterly.

"Percy, this is ridiculous. They're your family!"

"Not anymore, clearly, and there isn't much to be done about that."

"Percy, they do still love you. It's perfectly obvious to anyone who cares to look. They'd hardly be so angry with you if they didn't care…"

"You don't understand."

"Then make me," she said, very aware that Percy's mother, at least, was probably listening at the door. "Make me understand just what's happened that's so terrible it can't ever be mended."

He sighed. She'd never seen him look so tired, or so young. "I made a choice, the wrong choice. When you make the wrong choice, you just have to live with it."

"That is completely absurd. I've never heard anything so stupid! Parents don't just abandon their children when they make mistakes. All children make mistakes. That's what they do!"

Unexpectedly, Percy began to laugh. "You looked like Ginny just then. I thought you might end by stamping your little feet or throwing a lamp across the room."

"Stop it," she said. "Don't change the subject. I won't let you get away with that."

"You did see what happened in there just now, right?"

"I did, and it was awful."

"The one time-" He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I'd always done exactly what was expected of me, you know. Anything my parents ever wanted – or that I even suspected they wanted – I did. None of that matters now, the only thing that does matter to them is the one time I didn't." He took his glasses off, closed his eyes briefly, and then replaced them. "And that doesn't even begin to address the problem of my brothers. I don't suppose you know how unbearable a house full of brothers can be?"

"I'm an only child," she said.

"Lucky you."

There was a muffled crash from the kitchen and Percy started abruptly.

"Let's go. I mean it this time," he said, grabbing her by the arm and heading for the door.

"Well, that could have gone better," Kingsley said, once they'd all heard the front door slam behind Percy and Celia.

Molly, in the midst of cleaning up the shards of a coffee cup she'd shattered in the sink, abruptly started to cry, fumbling in her apron for a handkerchief, and Kingsley felt like the world's biggest ass.

"Molly-"

"It's just… He's gone on with his life without us, hasn't he? I suppose I knew he would but…"

"Mum," Ginny said gently. "It's a good thing. He's happier. Celia is very nice, and I think she's good for him."

"A bit out of his league," George grumbled.

"That's enough of that!" Ginny replied sharply. "You really couldn't have been civil to him for, like, thirty whole minutes?"

"Ginny," Bill said, not looking happy at all, "you were just as angry with him last summer as the rest of us."

"That's right!" Fred jumped in. "All of a sudden you're defending him and acting like we're the bad guys in all this..."

An unspoken question hung on the air, and Ginny looked to Kingsley for the answer – a brief, subtle motion, but it was enough to let the cat completely out of the bag.

"Well," Arthur said, calmly, but in a tone that left no room for argument, "I think that's enough discussion for now. Perhaps we should all get cleaned up and head to bed?" He paused. "Kingsley, would you stay for a minute?"

The kitchen door closed behind Molly and the kids. Arthur still sat at the table, hands folded, pointedly not looking at Kingsley. For his part, Kingsley had the unsettling feeling of being fifteen again and caught in some foolish lie.

"I know what you're going to say," he began, before Arthur had a chance. "I guess maybe I shouldn't have…"

"Tried to manipulate us all?" Arthur offered.

"When you say it like that, it just sounds bad." He dropped into the chair across from Arthur. "He saved the twins' lives tonight. That's not an exaggeration, it's the truth. He literally rescued them from a burning building. If there ever seemed like an opportunity for a reconciliation…"

"Clearly, you don't know my son as well I do."

"Maybe, or maybe I just have the advantage of getting to see a different side of him."

"You say that like I want things this way. I'd give anything to turn back the clock and make sure this never happened." He ran his hands over his face, looking exhausted.

"Nothing is ever so broken that it can't be fixed," Kingsley said. "Not with families, not if even one of you is still willing to try. You taught me that, remember?"

"This isn't quite the same as your situation…"

"You're right. What my dad did was worse." He helped himself to more coffee. "But I'm still glad I made at least a little peace with him before it was too late – and I never would have done that if you hadn't been there to give me a kick in the pants."

"So this is you returning the favor?"

"Something like that. Look, I know how disappointed you are in him, how much he hurt you. But will that really matter that much if the worst does happen?"

"Now you sound like Molly."

"Molly's a smart lady…"

Arthur shook his head. "She's a little too ready to forgive him; to just pretend this never happened. I can't do that."

"That's fair. But I've gotten to know the kid pretty well these last few months. He's still so young, Arthur… He wanted to be his own man, to do something he could be proud of all on his own. Everybody goes through that at some point; he just has really rotten timing."

"You're more forgiving than I am."

"I just think your expectations of him are still higher than they would be for any of your other kids, except maybe Bill."

Arthur considered that for a moment, then actually cracked a small smile. "When did you get so wise, anyway?"

"Hey, I had a good teacher." They sat in silence for a while. "This is fixable. He might not be ready to admit it yet, but I do think he wants to make things right. I think you do, too."

After a long moment, Arthur sighed heavily. "It won't ever be the same again, though."

"No," Kingsley said. "That you're probably right about."

Out in the yard, Celia took Percy's hand gently in hers, turned and, with a soft pop, they were suddenly standing at the door of her flat. He was grateful to her for taking charge; he wasn't sure he could have managed it himself.

"Come on in," she said, digging a very old brass skeleton key from her bag and unlocking the door. "I'll fix you a drink."

"No, that won't be necessary," he said, following her inside. "I'll be all right. It's hardly the first time something like this has happened – it's just the first time it's happened in a while. I guess I'd tricked myself into believing that things were getting better."

"Aren't they, though? At least in some ways?"

He looked at her. She was still wearing his mother's sweater and slippers, her muddy, ruined shoes dangling from one hand, her face lined with concern for him.

"Come here," he said, sliding the sweater from her shoulders and guiding her to the sofa. He wrapped her in a soft blanket. "What can I do for you? I could run you a bath, maybe?"

"Is that a hint?" she said, with a tired smile. "You're hardly pristine yourself, Weasley."

"No! I just- You're making fun of me."

"Maybe a little." She slid closer to him, the blanket falling around her shoulders. "There is something you can do for me, you know."

"Anything."

"Since this was a real, proper date – albeit a more thrilling one than I'm accustomed to – maybe you could still give me a proper kiss good night?"

He looked down at her, at her pale face, at her ruined dress. "Usually when a date goes this badly, there is no good night kiss."

"Indulge me," she said, so he did.

He leaned in and gently brushed his lips over hers. Her arms went around his neck, and he kissed her again, very softly.

"Stay," she breathed into his ear, her arms still around him. "Stay here tonight."

"What?" He pulled away slightly. "Oh, I don't think there's any need for that..."

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear enough." She took his face in her hands, looking him in the eye. "I want you to stay here. With me. Tonight. In that way."

"Well, yes," he said, before he could stop himself, "but you also sustained a head injury earlier."

"My judgment may be rotten, Percy, but it isn't because of that." She smiled at him. There was, in fact, still the faintest shadow of a bruise near the corner of her left eye. "My judgment where you're concerned has been impaired since about five seconds after they tossed us out of the Ministry."

"And you're sure that wasn't just the vodka?"

"Percy…" She moved even closer; she was practically sitting in his lap. "Stop joking around, stop making excuses. If you don't feel this way about me, fine. Say so."

There was an extended pause.

"Celia-" he began, and didn't get any further than that. She leaned in and kissed him so hard he saw stars. He lost a few minutes after that, and when he came back to himself they'd slid down onto the sofa. Celia had a leg hooked around his thigh, her foot resting against the curve of his calf.

"Why after they sacked us?"

"What?" she said, opening her eyes slowly and looking up at him.

"You said you started to think of me 'that way' after they tossed us out of the Ministry. We worked together for a year before that. We sat right next to each other every day for a year..."

She shook her head slightly, as though she couldn't believe they were having this conversation while his hand was still halfway up her skirt. "Would you ever have approached me that way while we still worked together?"

"Well, no."

"And why not?"

"Because if it hadn't worked out..."

"We sat right next to each other. How awkward would that have been? I didn't let myself even consider the possibility of you, and I never would have if we hadn't gotten sacked." She sat up, pushing him away slightly. "I got involved with someone, right out of school. He came from a very influential family with lots of political connections. We ran in all the same circles, personally and professionally. It was a colossal mistake and it ended very badly. I learned my lesson; I'll never do something like that again." She paused. "Look, I'll admit up front that I have trouble with relationships, but I think you of all people probably understand that."

"I do," he said. "But that doesn't mean you ought to trust me. I'm- I'm not very good at this sort of thing either. I'll probably just wind up hurting you."

"And I might hurt you. People hurt each other, Percy. I'm tired of trying to avoid that. The fact is, I do trust you, and no matter what happens here tonight, I'm not going to stop." She reached up and took off his glasses. "Now, are you going to kiss me again or not?"

So he did.

At least for a few minutes.

"Just one last thing..." he said, pulling away.

"No. There aren't any guarantees, and I'm not going to make any promises I might not be able to keep. Anything you need to ask me can wait." She stood up, grabbing his hands and tugging him up off the sofa. "Let's do this properly."

She kissed him again, biting down on his lower lip, and in that moment he would have followed her anywhere. They lurched back against the bedroom door, and she fumbled with the handle.

He'd never seen the inside of her bedroom. All the times he'd been at her place, the door stayed closed. He had to admit that he'd wondered what it looked like. He'd never let himself get much farther than that, at least not while he was awake. The bedroom was softer, darker, a little messier, than he'd imagined. Celia had a high bed, with a thick down comforter and fat pillows, not at all what he'd expected. He pushed her back onto the blue bedspread and she caught his arms and pulled him with her.

Her head hit one of the pillows. "In spite of all the danger," she murmured.

"What?"

"That's what I sang, for the career counselor back in June: 'In spite of all the danger, in spite of all that may be, I'll do anything for you, anything you want me to, if you'll be true to me.' It's The Beatles. Even you have to have heard of The Beatles." She reached up and touched his face. "Don't you remember? You wanted to know."

"I did," he said softly, "and you thought I'd laugh."

"And?"

"I'm not laughing, am I? I told you I wouldn't."

"That you did," she murmured, sitting up and unzipping her black dress. She left the earrings on, though.

They were a little awkward with each other, and for Percy at least it had been a fairly long time since he'd done this. At one point she reached out and clasped his hand in hers, a gesture he'd previously always thought of as overwrought and cliché. This time, though, looking down at her face, it didn't seem cheesy at all.

When they were finished, he kissed her once before turning over and nearly getting lost in the layers of soft bedclothes. He settled for resting his head on a stack of fluffy pillows.

"Now," she said, rolling over and laying her head against his back. "Now you can ask whatever it was you wanted to ask before."

"It hardly seems appropriate now," he said, his voice muffled slightly by the pillows.

"It seemed fairly urgent about twenty minutes ago."

"All right then," he sighed. "Did you decide you wanted to do this tonight because we were nearly killed? Or because-?" Because you were taking pity on me, he thought but didn't say.

She actually laughed. "Percy, I've been trying to get you into bed for nearly four months. It didn't take an explosion and a minor concussion to convince me to seize the moment."

Kingsley went straight from the Burrow to the Ministry, expecting to find a large pot of coffee and a pile of paperwork. What he found instead was Tonks, sitting on his desk and worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

"Everyone okay?" she asked as he approached.

"Physically, sure." He dropped into the chair behind the desk. "What's up?"

"We found out who owned that building, and what the upper floors were used for…"

"And?"

She cracked a small smile. "It's a pile of trouble, as usual." She unrolled a piece of parchment and spread it flat so he could read what was written there.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "You don't say."

"I suppose it could be a coincidence…"

"I don't believe in coincidence," Kingsley said grimly. "Not these days, at any rate."

She sighed. "Yeah, me either. I sent Dawkins and Gerard to bring him in. They should be back any time now, depending on how much of a fight he puts up."

"You're expecting a fight?"

"Not a physical one, of course. I am expecting him to have a pack of solicitors to bring down on our heads though."

"Well, you're not wrong about that," Dawkins said, striding up to them. "He came with us, quiet as a lamb, but by the time we got here there was a pack of ambulance chasers camped out outside the interview room."

"Can we question him?"

"You can try – I doubt they'll let him say much."

Kingsley headed toward the interview room, with Dawkins and Tonks in tow.

"Do you have any idea why you're here?" Kingsley said as he entered the room.

"I can only imagine," John Edison replied, the expression on his face carefully neutral.

"We've counseled our client not to talk to you," one of the solicitors said. She was young and attractive with a vaguely American accent.

"And I've chosen to ignore them," Edison said.

"He's chosen to ignore us," she continued, "because he claims he has nothing to fear."

"Nothing to fear, eh?" An interesting choice of words, Kingsely thought. Nothing to fear, not nothing to hide. "You've had a run of bad luck recently, haven't you, Mr. Edison?" he said. "A high-profile investigation into your firm's finances, and now this not-at-all suspicious explosion at one of your buildings… It says here that your company stored a lot of records on those top two floors. None of that information is going to see the light of day now."

"Purely a coincidence." He waved a hand, apparently unconcerned.

Kinglsey pressed on, "A couple security guards got caught in the explosion, you know. Men with families…"

"That is terrible," Edison said without even a blink.

"It could have been much worse. There were about a hundred people trapped in the pub in the basement of that building."

"Yes, but those people escaped harm, didn't they? Through, so I'm told, the actions of some very resourceful young people."

How the hell Edison knew about that was a question Kingsley wasn't even going to try to figure out yet. But it made it very clear that the guy was in this up to his eyeballs, and, more than that, he wanted them to know it.

"Yeah, it was pretty lucky they were there."

"I don't believe in luck," he replied. "Nothing happens without a purpose."

This was getting them nowhere, so Kingsley decided to try a different tack.

"Whoever did this caused a lot of hurt tonight. Most people think it was another attempt to terrify the public, to pave the way for Voldemort's return to power." He paused significantly. "We have a name for the people who do things like that, Mr. Edison..."

"Leave," Edison said abruptly. "All of you, everyone except Mr. Shacklebolt."

The American lawyer frowned. "John..."

"Leave."

"Hit a nerve, did I?" Kingsley asked once the others had left.

"You've got this all wrong," Edison said. "We aren't Death Eaters, Mr. Shacklebolt. We're simply concerned citizens – citizens who want our world back, who want order not chaos."

"And what are you willing to do to achieve order? Are you willing to sacrifice lives? Are you willing to break laws?"

"Which laws? I think you'll find that the laws of our world aren't universally respected."

"You sound like you're looking to get yourself in a pack of trouble..."

"And if you had any evidence clearly linking me to that explosion, you'd already have brought charges against me." He leaned back, looking up at Kingsley. "You won't find anything. I've told you before; I'm not the man you want."

"Who is then?"

"That's the funny thing about it." Edison smiled and it was thoroughly unpleasant. "The man you're looking for isn't a really man at all."

Continued in Episode 7, Fallen