Harry looked around the Room of Requirement, watching all the wisps of glittering silver throughout the room. Some had shapes, some did not, but almost every wand in the room was producing something. "This is brilliant," he declared proudly, amazed at how many of his classmates had a solid, corporeal Patronus. "Once you've found your form once, it gets easier, I promise," he added to those who were still struggling.
A few feet away, Michael Corner almost threw his wand across the room in frustration. "It's just not happening," he grumbled, and before Harry could go over to assist Anthony was already on it, carefully talking his friend through the process.
It warmed Harry's heart to see the co-operation going on in the group, between those who had succeeded in the spell and those who had yet to do so. He might have been the 'official' leader of the group, but by this point in the year they were definitely working more as a team than as a class.
He looked up at the clock, surprised to see how much of their usual time had already passed — and then the door opened suddenly. Everyone in the room froze, wands raised at the intruder.
"Draco!" Harry burst out, hurrying towards the blond. Draco's face was paler than usual, his eyes wide in alarm.
"She knows," he blurted, sending a shock of fear through Harry. "She knows where you meet, even if she doesn't know what you're doing. She's planning on having a bunch of Slytherin students waiting in the hall outside close to curfew."
"Fuck," Harry declared emphatically, his voice ringing through the otherwise silent room. When he turned around, half the room were glaring at Draco suspiciously.
"Why should we trust Malfoy?"
"How did he even know we were in here?"
Calls of alarm and distrust began to start up, and Harry shot off a firework from his wand. "That's not the problem here," he snapped. "Draco knows where we are because I trust him, and because I've been teaching him in here as well. Not everything outside this room is as it seems." It was too late to shove that particular cat back in the bag, now. "And I'll remind you all, you're still under a secrecy contract for everything that happens in here." Though clearly, someone had broken that contract. He looked around suspiciously — everyone here still had their memories of the HA, so they had not spilled the beans. So who was missing?
He whirled around to look back at Draco, who had taken a half-step behind Harry, putting the Gryffindor firmly between himself and dozens of raised wands. "You said she's waiting to ambush us at curfew?" he repeated, and Draco nodded.
"She can't see the door, obviously, but she's been told where it is, and that you're doing something secret behind it. She wants to catch as many of you as she can when you leave." He grimaced. "I can't stay long, I'm supposed to be getting ready to join them."
More murmurs from the crowd, which Harry ignored.
"Why don't we just use the other doors?" Susan suggested, gesturing to the four house doors hiding the secret passageways. "Leave her waiting all night."
It was tempting, but Harry knew that was only going to delay the inevitable. "If she doesn't get anything she'll just keep trying harder," he pointed out. "The rest of you can leave through those doors — be careful at the other ends, just in case she's waiting. Hide yourselves if you can."
"So we're just going to believe Malfoy, then?" Angelina said archly.
"Yes," Harry replied, not rising to the bait. "I told you, I trust him."
"Draco isn't loyal to the Dark Lord," Blaise piped up. "But it's too dangerous for his father to catch wind of that."
A ripple of unease flickered through the group; all of them knew what Lucius Malfoy was like.
Draco's jaw clenched, and he tugged on Harry's sleeve. "I need to go. If she catches me leaving here…" He didn't need to finish that sentence.
"Go with Blaise and Daphne," Harry urged. "All of you, get going, quickly!"
"Don't do anything stupid, Potter," Draco hissed, the look in his eye saying he knew exactly what Harry was thinking and he didn't approve in the slightest. Harry winked at him, wishing he could kiss the blond the same way George had just kissed Blaise, a worried expression on his face. Instead he squeezed Draco's shoulder, and urged him towards the pair of Slytherins.
In a quick and orderly fashion, the group began to disperse through the four doors, and Harry hoped they all had the sense not to just run in terror back to their common rooms. If they went to the library, or pretended to have been enjoying the balmy April evening in one of the courtyards, or literally anything less suspicious than walking back from seemingly nowhere in particular. The room began to empty, and Harry pushed away the sour anxiety in his stomach, thinking about what he had to do next. He would have to play it very carefully, or he could ruin everything.
At last, there were only two people in the room; himself, and Neville. "Nev, you should go," Harry urged, but the blond shook his head.
"It's gonna look really suspicious if you walk out of here by yourself, mate," he insisted. "Umbridge knows you're up to something, she'd expect you to have at least one accomplice. I'm coming with you."
"Neville—" Harry broke off when his friend fixed him with a stubborn glare. "Ugh. Fine. But if your Gran murders me for getting you fucking expelled or something, I'm blaming you."
Neville paled slightly at the possibility, but nodded anyway. Bloody Gryffindors.
Before they left, Harry reached out to the magic of the room, and felt it change — it grew smaller, the four house doors disappeared, and soon they were stood in a cosy room with a pair of sofas and a table in the middle. The mirror wall disappeared entirely, taking their little message board safely with it. "Just in case she comes in to check," Harry pointed out at Neville's astonished look.
"I didn't realise the room worked like that," Neville murmured. Harry shrugged. It did for him, at any rate.
Heartbeat a hard staccato against his ribcage, Harry headed for the door, wand still in hand. Neville was right behind him. Harry pushed open the door, stepped outside — and immediately ducked a bright red jet of light. "He's here!" a shout rang through the corridor, and suddenly there were spells firing at him from multiple sources. Harry put up a Shield charm, blocking most of them, but he knew he needed to let himself be overwhelmed — and he didn't want Umbridge knowing just how capable he was in a fight.
Still, he quite happily disarmed the Slytherin student in front of him. He tried to run, and let himself be hit with a Tripping jinx, skidding across the stone floor. In an instant, there was a knee pressed to his back, and his hands were bound. "I've got Potter!" It sounded like Montague, the quidditch captain. Harry craned his neck, trying to see if Neville had managed to escape. Unfortunately, the other Gryffindor was lying Stunned on the floor only a few feet away.
"Well done, Mr Montague! And you, Mr Malfoy. Twenty points each!" Umbridge cooed in delight. Harry tensed when Montague pulled him roughly to his feet, setting him face to face with the pink-clad High Inquisitor. Umbridge looked like she had just been declared Minister for Magic herself.
Behind her, with the faintest trace of apology in his eyes, Draco had hold of a bound Neville.
"You, Mr Potter, are in very deep trouble," Umbridge declared, sounding very, very happy about that.
.-.
For the second time that school year, Harry found himself riding the revolving staircase up to the headmaster's office. This time was about as cheerful as the last, though the company was different. It was just him and Umbridge, her stubby fingers gripping him tightly by the shoulder — she had let Neville go with a week's detention, and sent the Slytherins on their way to see if they couldn't find any more suspicious-looking students. She had checked the inside of the room, but still seemed convinced Harry was hiding something.
When they reached the office, Harry's heart stuttered — the Minister himself was already there, with a smiling Percy Weasley and a pair of aurors, stood close to Dumbledore with blank expressions. Kingsley was one of them, though he showed no recognition.
"Sit." Umbridge practically threw him into a chair.
"Well, Dolores? Did you find them?" Fudge was eager-eyed, but Umbridge's face went stony.
"Only Potter and Longbottom. The room was empty otherwise," she admitted begrudgingly.
"Well, then, that seems to be that," Dumbledore declared cheerfully. "There is no Educational Decree preventing two boys from being in a room together."
Harry hated the drawl of insinuation in his tone. Fudge puffed up angrily.
"We both know what they were really up to, Dumbledore!" He turned to Harry, sneering at him. "I expect you know why you are here, Potter."
"No, sir," Harry replied blankly. Fudge's face turned purple.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I don't know why, sir. Neville and I were just doing homework."
"A likely story," Fudge scowled. "You truly claim to have no idea why Professor Umbridge has brought you here? No recollection of breaking any school rules? Or Ministry Decrees?"
Harry maintained his polite expression. "No, sir."
Fudge looked like he was about to have a stroke, his anger rising.
"I think, Minister, it is time I fetch my informant," Umbridge piped up, shooting Harry a gloating smirk. Harry didn't let himself react; not even when Umbridge disappeared through a side door, and returned with none other than Marietta Edgecombe. So that was their leak.
The curly-haired Ravenclaw girl looked utterly terrified and bewildered, looking from Fudge to the aurors and back again. There was a blankness to her gaze that had a flare of triumph shooting through Harry's stomach.
"Don't be scared, dear," Umbridge encouraged gently. "The Minister is very pleased with you. Tell him what you told me."
Marietta's wide eyes flicked to Umbridge, and a quiet whimper escaped her lips.
Umbridge pressed further, but Marietta remained silent. She looked to Harry, horror in her gaze, and he stared back impassively.
She would have no memory of the HA, but she would know what she had done.
"Very well, I'll tell him," Umbridge snapped eventually, turning to Fudge. "Earlier this evening, Miss Edgecombe came to my office and told me that should I proceed to a particular spot of the seventh floor and wait until curfew, I would find something that I had been looking for for a very long time. I questioned her further, but all she would tell me was that there was some sort of illegal meeting going on, of which Potter was the leader. At that point, she became too scared to say anything further."
Harry would bet she was scared — having her memory suddenly disappear in the middle of Umbridge's office, no longer knowing why she was there.
Fudge turned to Marietta with an expression that was probably supposed to be kind, but mostly looked constipated. "You did a very brave thing, going to Professor Umbridge. Can you tell me more about this meeting? Who was there? How many people were involved?"
Marietta shook her head silently, and frustration passed across Fudge's face.
"You will remember, Minister, that back in October I heard word of Potter's intention to form a duelling club, to circumvent the Ministry-approved Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum," Umbridge volunteered, sending a venomous look to Harry. Harry wondered how that rumour had made it to her ears.
"I was going to, but then you introduced the new Decree, so I didn't," he replied blandly. Umbridge's lips curled in a brief snarl.
"And yet here we are, hearing of such a thing six months later. Six months after the Decree was put in place."
"And yet, Dolores, we do not have any evidence that any meetings occurred at all," Dumbledore cut in, offering his ever-present eye twinkle and genial smile. "So I believe you have brought Mr Potter here on false pretences."
"We have Miss Edgecombe's word!" Umbridge insisted, gripping Marietta's shoulder tightly. "Tell him, you silly girl!"
"I don't know anything," Marietta blurted, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't— I don't remember any meetings."
"You're lying!" Umbridge screeched. "You told me yourself!"
"I ask you, Professor Umbridge," said Dumbledore, voice going stony, "not to yell at my students, if you please. It is clear that Miss Edgecombe has no memory of the illegal duelling club you are referring to. Likely because it does not exist." He glanced back at Harry. "All you have evidence of is Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom using a hidden room within the castle to quietly complete some homework. Hardly a crime," he added, chuckling.
Fudge rounded on Umbridge, fury in his gaze. "You told me you had proof, Dolores," he hissed. Umbridge's eyes bulged.
"I did! I do!" She floundered for a moment, and Harry sat there, watching her impassively, trying to force down his grin. She had absolutely nothing on him, and they both knew it.
Then Umbridge went completely still, before turning to the headmaster, a cold smile forming. "Miss Edgecombe has no memory of the events, does she?" she echoed his previous words. "Perhaps because she's been… Obliviated?"
The portraits of previous heads of school, who were all shamelessly listening in, gasped in outrage.
"That is quite the serious accusation, Dolores," Dumbledore replied evenly.
"I have known for weeks, months even, that something is going on here!" Umbridge continued, a hysterical light in her eyes. "Heard the little brats whispering around the school, thinking they're so very clever. They have been meeting, Minister, I assure you. And what's more, do you know what they call themselves?" She smiled a crazed, dangerous smile. "The Hogwarts Army."
That wasn't entirely true, but it was enough to have Fudge sucking in a sharp breath, rounding on Dumbledore with accusation plain on his face. "I knew it! My advisors thought me mad, but I knew it!" he bragged. "I told them you were plotting against me, training the students to fight me! I suppose Potter was your little general, was he? You've always had quite the soft spot for him. And now you've erased this poor girl's memory to keep your own secrets!"
For one heart-stopping moment, Harry was sure Dumbledore was going to throw him under the bus. Sure the headmaster would use this as the perfect excuse to punish Harry for his rebellious ways and blame him for everything; Umbridge would likely accept it, even if Fudge didn't. Her enemy had always been more Harry than Dumbledore anyway.
But Dumbledore merely smiled, and laid his hands on the desk, one still holding his wand. "Well, I suppose the game is up," he agreed. "Would you like a statement, Cornelius?"
Harry didn't move as Fudge practically salivated over the information, keenly directing Percy Weasley to write it all down as Dumbledore admitted to plotting to overthrow the Ministry. Umbridge kept shooting Harry little glances, as if expecting him to defend his headmaster — especially when Fudge mentioned arresting the man — but Harry stayed silent. Dumbledore knew what he was doing. He obviously recognised it was best to keep Harry in school, that it would be easier for him to get the bullshit charges dropped than it would be to get Harry un-expelled. And he seemed far too eager to make Fudge squirm.
It all came to a head when Fudge attempted to have the aurors subdue Dumbledore, and suddenly there was a bright flash of light and a loud bang. Harry dropped to the ground instinctively, and when he raised his head the room looked like a bomb had gone off; everyone was unconscious, except for himself and Dumbledore. The headmaster stood behind his desk, and he looked at Harry — though very carefully did not make eye contact. He was still scared of what he might find.
"You must be careful, Harry," he insisted quickly. "This will not stop Dolores from watching you. I will not be around to help a second time." He gathered some things from his desk, sweeping them into his robe pocket. "Work hard on your Occlumency, and remember what you are fighting for. What you are truly fighting for. The same cause your parents sacrificed themselves for."
And with that cryptic statement, he raised an arm, grabbing onto Fawkes' tail feathers as the phoenix swooped low over him. In a flash of fire, the pair were gone.
The rest of the room awoke, seemingly with no idea they'd been out for any longer than a split second, and Fudge immediately sent the aurors to the stairs. Harry and the bewildered Marietta were almost forgotten about in the chaos — eventually, Umbridge dismissed both of them, though not before giving Harry another week's detention.
Harry didn't waste time on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, practically skipping with glee. He wasn't expelled, and Dumbledore was gone from the school — and clearly under the impression that with enough belief in love and practice in Occlumency, Harry could be redeemed from his supposed Dark leanings.
His day had turned out much better than anticipated, all things considered.
.-.-.
In the morning, the Prophet ran a full story about how Albus Dumbledore had been training Hogwarts students as his own private militia to one day overthrow Fudge's power, and there was outrage in the Hogwarts Great Hall.
No one knew the full story, but naturally word had spread that it was Harry Potter's fault that Dumbledore was gone. Suddenly, his popularity — which had been slowly rising since the Quibbler article — was at an all time low; he was the reason they now had Umbridge as a headmistress.
Harry would forever be amazed at the accuracy and speed of the Hogwarts rumour mill; within hours half the school seemed to have their own version of Dumbledore's daring escape, and not all of them were entirely off the mark. Perhaps Marietta had said something, but Harry doubted it — when he arrived at breakfast, the curly-haired girl was sat alone at the end of the Ravenclaw table, with her head bowed so low she was practically face-first in her porridge.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Cho hissed in the corridor on the way to their respective classes, clearly devastated. "I never thought she'd— her mum works at the Ministry, but I didn't think—"
"It's fine, Cho," Harry insisted. "The contract worked as expected. I can handle the detentions." He and Neville were alternating days, since Umbridge only seemed to have the one Blood Quill.
"Still, I'm really sorry." Cho was saved further apologies when they had to part ways. Harry hoped she didn't feel guilty for too long; it wasn't her fault her friend was a snitch. By lunch, things were worse — the Inquisitorial Squad had been born. Harry watched silently as Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, made a show of taking points from both Ron and Hermione, bragging about his new authority. Around the Gryffindor table, several members of the HA were giving Harry intent looks, as if asking him to explain the Slytherin's supposed loyalty now. Harry just shook his head — surely they understood such things were necessary sometimes?
Harry wasn't surprised by which Slytherins appeared to be in the Inquisitorial Squad — or the handful of Ravenclaws, too — but he was quietly pleased to see how many of them were secretly his own allies.
The Ministry was not as stable or respected as Fudge and Umbridge thought.
He kept his head down for the whole day, glad he didn't have Defence Against the Dark Arts on his schedule yet. Every time he saw Umbridge, she looked like she was trying to set him on fire with her mind.
It was Neville's turn for detention first, so Harry went up to Gryffindor Tower, intent on doing as much homework as he could before his evenings were once again limited. Almost as soon as he sat down, a tall redhead appeared on either side of him.
"Hey, mate, question for you," Fred asked in a low tone. Harry instinctively raised a privacy ward.
"What's up?"
"You know how you've been self-studying for those two OWLs?" George asked, making Harry blink; that was not what he'd anticipated. "Do you know anything about registering for exams at the Ministry?"
Suddenly, things clicked. "You don't think you'll stick around for your NEWTs?" he asked with raised eyebrows. The twins shared a look.
"With Umbridge in charge? Not likely," George remarked. "We're close to getting premises for the shop, too, but that's all hush-hush."
"It will be a help to have qualifications, though," Fred said. "And we've already put all the work into studying for them. Might as well try it."
"There are all sorts of potions ingredients you can only access if you've got a NEWT in the subject," George explained. "We didn't give a shit about OWLs because they don't really mean anything, but NEWTs are important."
Harry knew they'd only passed three OWLs each, but he also knew that half their professors had let them continue their classes even in the subjects they'd failed, knowing it was not through lack of skill. The twins were two of the most talented students in the entire school.
"I don't know anything, but I have ways of getting letters out to Remus. I'll ask him," Harry assured, earning twin grins. "How soon d'you think you'll be off?"
Again, they shared a look over his head. "Depends how the next few weeks go," Fred admitted, frowning. "We'd like to stay til after the match against Ravenclaw. But we also have absolutely no intention of letting Umbridge enjoy her new position," he added with a devilish smirk.
"And if we leave, at least we know you're here to look out for Ginny. And Ron, too, I suppose," George said.
"I'll do what I can," Harry promised. "For Blaise, too." George's face softened; Harry knew how much the redhead worried about the dangerous line his Slytherin boyfriend was walking.
"He told me about the sanctuary offer," George revealed. "You bleeding heart, Potter."
Harry just grinned. "You know me; saving people is what I do," he joked. "The offer is open to you, too, y'know. If anything happens — with your mum, or Dumbledore, or if Death Eaters come after you. I'll always have somewhere safe for you to go."
Each of them laid a hand on one of his shoulders, squeezing gently. "We know, little brother," Fred assured. "But don't you worry about us. We've got more than just silly little tricks up our sleeves." He winked, and then they were gone, halfway across the common room before Harry could even blink.
There were only two and a half months left of term. Harry wondered what the twins had planned, that they didn't think they could last that much longer.
He couldn't wait to find out.
.-.-.
Charlie straightened his robe nervously, and Bill slapped his hand away for the dozenth time. "You're making it worse," the eldest Weasley boy said, shooting his brother a look. "Calm down. It'll be fine."
This was, perhaps, not the best timing to be doing this. Then again, as Bill had pointed out the night before, the timing was only going to get worse. With Dumbledore out of Hogwarts, Fudge would only get more vehement in his desire to stamp out Dumbledore supporters within the Ministry.
But Dumbledore leaving the school had been of benefit to them, as it meant their dad had been able to sit down with the headmaster and discuss the possibility of his two eldest sons taking up their civic responsibilities. Dumbledore, believing Bill and Charlie to be just as dedicated to him as their father was, had given his blessing on the matter.
So now, they were here. Waiting outside the Wizengamot chambers for the door to open, Charlie feeling like he was going to overheat in the stuffy dress robe Bill had forced him into. Merlin, he hated formalwear.
At last, the door clicked ajar, beckoning their entry. Charlie took a deep breath, steadied himself, and fell into stride behind his brother.
The Wizengamot chamber was intimidating to say the least. Even with barely half the seats full thanks to the number of proxies between Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore, seeing them all dressed in their official garb, staring down at him, made Charlie's neck prickle with sweat.
"With the permission of my father, Lord Prewett, Arthur Weasley; I, William Weasley, have come to claim the Prewett seat of my birthright," Bill declared, his voice strong. Charlie stared hard at a point on the wall ahead of him.
"With the permission of my father, Lord Weasley, Arthur Weasley; I, Charles Weasley, have come to claim the Weasley seat of my birthright," Charlie echoed. A heavy silence filled the room. Then, there were two bright glowing lights up ahead.
The seats had recognised them, and accepted them. Their robes changed, transforming into the same plum robes the rest of the Wizengamot wore.
In the Chief Warlock's seat, Fudge looked apoplectic with rage. Beside him, writing the minutes for the meeting, Percy had dropped his quill in shock. Seeing his younger brother made Charlie's heart clench. He only felt delight at Fudge's anger.
But the magic of the Wizengamot chamber was as old as the Ministry itself, and so complex even the Unspeakables didn't understand it fully. There was no arguing with the magic of birthright.
"Welcome, Lord Prewett, Lord Weasley," Fudge declared reluctantly. "Please, take your seats so we may begin."
Charlie glanced at Bill, who grinned at him, and together they walked up to their glowing chairs, sitting in unison. Instantly, Charlie felt the warm flare of the Weasley magic, accepting him into the family headship. It filled his chest and settled on his shoulders, an awareness, a power like nothing he'd ever felt before. And this was only the Weasley half of the magic.
He went wide-eyed for a moment as he thought about how it might feel for Harry, once he could fully accept lordships over all his family magics.
No wonder Dumbledore was afraid.
But as he looked down at a burst of warmth on his hand, he saw the Weasley lordship ring materialise on his right middle finger. He now technically had more of a say in the family than his father; than anyone but Bill. The Prewett magic was stronger than the Weasley magic, and Bill was the elder, after all.
He settled back, listening to Fudge begin some droning speech, his blood fizzing through his veins. They had done it. Now there was no way Dumbledore or their father could take the power away from them. The headmaster didn't know it yet, but his sphere of power had just grown a little bit smaller.
.-.
They flooed back to Bill's flat, and as soon as they were home Charlie reached up to loosen the collar of his robe, letting out a whoop of triumph.
"We did it!" Bill exclaimed, grabbing his brother in a rough hug.
The Wizengamot meeting had been long and boring, with very little to actually vote on, but that didn't matter. They had taken their lordships, and that was the important thing.
Once his robe was open over the plain t-shirt and jeans Charlie wore underneath, he looked back down at his Weasley ring, quietly awed. He'd never really seen it before; Dad didn't wear it because he thought it was a bit pompous, especially when he had turned his political power over to Dumbledore's discretion. But it really was beautiful.
Bill was rummaging through his kitchen cabinets for a celebratory drink, and Charlie slumped down on the sofa — only to immediately jump up when someone pounded on the door.
"What the hell?" Bill murmured, eyeing his own front door warily. Charlie approached, wand in hand, and opened it. He did not expect the person he found.
"What do you two think you're playing at!?" Percy thundered, bursting into the flat without waiting for an invitation. His face was pink, his blue eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Taking up your lordships like that! Dumbledore put you up to this, didn't he?"
"How do you even know where I live?" Bill questioned incredulously, bottle of firewhiskey in hand. Percy waved him off.
"Doesn't matter. I can't believe this; I never expected our father would ever turn his seats over while Dumbledore was still alive! Do you have any idea how that made me look in front of Minister Fudge, to not give him warning about something my own brothers were planning? He looked like a fool!"
"That's not hard," Charlie muttered with a snort. "We don't really care that we made you look bad in front of your boss, quite frankly — not after everything you've put Mum and Dad through lately. The seats are our birthright, it's none of your business when and how we choose to claim them." His eyes were hard, though it made his stomach squirm to look at Percy in such a way. He might be a prick, but Charlie could still remember the little boy peppering him with endless questions the Christmas of Charlie's first year, begging him to tell him all about the school and his classes and his friends, pleading to spend the night in Charlie's room because he'd missed him so much. Percy was his responsibility, like he had been Bill's, and the rift in the family hurt.
Percy's face reddened further as he sucked in a breath, at a total loss for words, puffing up like a balloon — then, to the surprise of both his older brothers, a ragged sob burst from his lips. "How the fuck am I supposed to protect you when you pull shit like this?"
And then he threw himself into Charlie's arms.
Charlie held him close automatically, throwing an alarmed glance in Bill's direction. The curse-breaker looked back at him with the same expression. "What do you mean, protect us?" Charlie asked, rubbing Percy's back, being his big brother as easy and instinctual as breathing. Percy's hands gripped tight to the open lapels of Charlie's robe.
"You think I'm doing this because I want to?" he gasped. "Ignoring the family, devoting my every bloody moment to the Minister, making Mum— making Mum cry, like that?" Percy himself was crying, his eyes bloodshot when he looked up at Charlie. "Char, please, you know me. I'm just trying to keep everyone safe."
"Safe from what?" Bill asked, suddenly right there at Charlie's shoulder, firewhiskey abandoned. He had one hand on Charlie's shoulder and one hand on Percy's, and for a moment Charlie was twelve again and being told that Fred and George might have Dragon Pox but they were going to be fine, and it wasn't Percy's fault for catching it first, not at all.
"From everything!" Percy wept. "Fudge is running the Ministry into the ground and Dumbledore's got his own fucking agenda that I don't trust for a second, and everyone knows You-Know-Who is back and I know he's got people in high places and I'm trying to weed them out in case Harry bloody Potter actually manages to kill him and we can finally start getting some actual fucking competent people involved, but until then the whole bloody family is under Ministry watch because our parents are right in Dumbledore's pockets and I thought if I could get Fudge to trust me, I could keep him away from you, but you had to go and ruin it by taking your fucking lordships and now Fudge wants to keep an eye on you!"
This was all said in one long, hurried breath, and finished with a weak fist thudding against Charlie's chest.
Charlie looked up again, his own horror mirrored in his older brother's eyes.
"Fuck, Perce," he breathed, running a hand through Percy's short-cropped red curls. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Percy snorted, pulling back to fix him with a shrewd look. "It had to look real," he insisted mulishly. "If Fudge didn't believe I absolutely hated all of you and the headmaster besides, he'd never let me so close to him." He blinked away tears. "Except I've just gone and cocked that up because now you're going to go to Dumbledore about it and he's going to try and get me to spy on the Minister!"
"Hey, hey, none of that," Bill soothed as Percy began to cry harder. "Easy. Look, why don't you sit down, I'll make some tea, and then Charlie and I can tell you why we really took our lordships, yeah?"
Percy looked bewildered, and heartbroken, but let Charlie gently manhandle him over to the sofa.
Charlie mentally apologised to Sirius, who had been expecting them both to visit Grimmauld Place that evening to discuss the Wizengamot meeting. But he would understand; he'd been a big brother to a difficult little brother too, once. Even if things hadn't ended quite so nicely for Regulus, in the end.
Bill got the kettle going, and Charlie offered Percy a handkerchief, rubbing his back until the shaking of his shoulders subsided.
The three of them had a whole lot to talk about, it seemed.