Chapter Text
It was a fairly twisted set of circumstances that found Percy somewhat relieved by the escape of a mass murderer who was with all likelihood going to target his brother's best friend, but then life had a way of providing silver linings in the most awful of places, or so Percy Weasley had found.
Admittedly, his arrival back to Hogwarts had felt rather fraught to begin with, but Percy had quickly realised that even prior to the dementor incident on the train - which had lead to him subjecting poor Professor Lupin to quite the unfair tongue lashing when he’d seen the man with his shaken younger siblings, and Harry and Hermione, he supposed, but really those two effectively counted anyway - that his arrival to the platform, despite everything, had been more than overshadowed by the breaking news of Sirius Black’s escape, as well as the overt presence of auror’s surrounding the stations.
And so, whilst there had been some small mutterings, the sort that accompanied him in the corridors like an old friend in the very first days of the new year, the rather brutal retaliation of Fred and George ensured that nothing more overt occured past the first fortnight of the term. Percy was even convinced that in the case of one particular prank, an event that had left a rather unpleasant fourth year named McClaggen entirely bald, Professor McGonagall had even gone so far as to turn a blind eye to the rather obvious proof that it was the work of Fred and George.
Percy chose not to question those sorts of incidents, the type that were keeping his life peaceful if not even pleasant. Sure, occasionally there’d even be rumours of the twins teaming up with some ‘unknown Slytherin’ (although Percy rather had his suspicions), but for the first time in almost six months, Percy felt content and that was enough for him.
Of course that was never destined to last for poor Percy.
His studies were going well, and although he’d never admit it to Bill, lest his ego grow any larger, having his brother close by had been a welcome reprise, a friendly ear to vent towards given his ever growing paranoia around the Black situation since Halloween, even if his brothers curious change of career had raised a brow or two around Hogsmeade. But of course Bill, in a way Percy would always envy, shrugged off those murmurs with nothing more than the same easy grin he gave Percy whenever he found thoughts of a murderous madman invading his thoughts too often as the hunt for Black continued to drag on and on with no but plenty of rumours regarding the man lurking round potentially every corner.
But beyond that, the year was turning out to be a surprising success for Percy, and perhaps above everything else, the cherry on top of the cake of returning to Hogwarts had been the arranging of a small plaque to adorn the trophy room, proudly celebrating Percy’s achievement in being the first openly gay Head Boy, something that, rather frankly, had made him blush frightfully at first when he had been called up in front of the Great Hall during dinner one night not too long after Black’s Halloween break in. There had been the customary, slightly mad speech from Dumbledore, of course (what Hogwarts occasion didn’t merit one, through the eyes of the eccentric headmaster), before the wise old wizard had invited a middle-aged man, a man with enough crow’s feet around his eyes to demonstrate a life well lived already (albeit one that had been harder than it had ought to have been) to hand over the honour to Percy.
It had baffled him, initially, in the moments he was stood there awkwardly blinking at the kind hazel eyes across from him in attempt to place their familiarity from somewhere deep in his memory, a mystery that was shortlived as Hermione, alongside the rest of his fellow prefects were quickly gathered on stage around the man with kindly eyes as he held Percy’s award, and Dumbledore had taken several steps forward, pinning a small badge onto the man’s chest in preparation.
And when the man with the same lingering pain in his eyes that Percy knew from his own stepped forward, with a prefect badge standing out proudly on his brown lapel, a conversation from what felt like years prior but was in fact barely two months earlier sprung to mind of a young prefect that Percy had read about a lifetime ago who’d been unfairly, cruelly stripped of his badge in circumstances that had almost mirrored Percy’s own outing in many ways.
And as Dumbledore began to speak, began to praise Hermione for her efforts to correct a historical injustice and for the prefect's decision to help in celebrating the progress of time, Percy shook the firm hand of Lance Straw as the man gave him a watery smile and his sincerest congratulations.
The Prophet had even covered the event, Percy later found out through a well intentioned if clumsy letter from his Father, but even the presenting of such an award was quickly swept aside in the newsroom for the almost minute by minute updates of the hunt for Sirius Black they were providing.
And so as things began to settle in towards Christmas, Percy found himself holed up in the warmest abandoned classroom he, Oliver, Penny and Marcus (who by now had become an almost accepted member of their strange little grouping, half fueled by the enthusiastic rivalry between him and Oliver), had been able to find as the frost on the glass windows had become a regular feature deep into the Scottish highlands.
“Flint, how did you even get in to N.E.W.T Herbology, I mean your homework doesn’t even read like English,” Oliver complained, pulling his scarf slightly tighter as he kicked his feet up onto an empty chair, squinting to try and make sense of the scrawl of ink across Marcus’s homework.
Marcus responded with a thick exhale of smoke that had Penny wrinkling her nose with the sort of disapproving look that had once been primarily reserved for Percy, “y’know for how often you call me part troll, ain’t you who half looks like one making that face,” he retorted, ignoring one of Oliver’s regular jibes about his intelligence.
“Will you two grow up?” Penny whined, slamming the cover of her Transfiguration textbook down, “I mean I was barely getting anything done to begin with, and now you two won’t bloody hush!”
Percy tilted back on his chair, circling his neck around to face her so his head was dangling back as their blue eyes met, “you do know there’s a library for a reason?” He poked at her with a grin.
Penny made a frustrated noise, “it’s alright for you, but the rest of us don’t have this superhuman ability to be three weeks ahead of schedule in everything!” She exclaimed, “I mean how can you just sit around here doing nothing like Marcus and still get better marks than any of us!”
With a furrow in his brow, Percy sat forward in his chair as Marcus made a protest on their behalf, “oi, we don’t just sit around doing nothing,” he argued.
Percy nodded alongside him, “I agree with Marcus, I’ll have you know we’re very busy,” he teased.
Rolling her eyes, Penny tucked a long strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, “oh yeah? Doing what,” she challenged, raising a well plucked brow.
Percy slipped a cigarette into his mouth, disregarding the annoyed look on Penny’s face as he lit it wandlessly, “smoking!” He laughed, rocking back onto his chair once more as the sternness on Penny’s face crumbled and she burst into a laugh with him, resting her head on his shoulder across the aisle.
“Seriously though, Perce, how do you manage it?” Oliver asked, peering over at his boyfriend with genuine curiosity as the ginger teens lips twitched in response.
Percy smirked, “you’re all acting like there’s some big secret, but you know all those mornings you wake me up before the crack of dawn?” He said with a knowing stare aimed at his boyfriend.
Oliver gave a groan, resting his head back against the stone wall with an annoyed realisation, “you mean to tell me I’ve been the reason you’re so bloody on top of everything this whole time?”
Marcus and Penny burst into laugh as Percy nodded with a toothy grin, “it’s not my fault you’re been waking me up over three hours before breakfast even starts for the past few years, I can never get back to sleep so I just started putting it to use, really,” he admitted with a growing flush to his face.
Penny shook her head, “alright then, so to be Percy Weasley all I need to do is be forcibly awakened sometime around 5am and then work for three straight hours, do all my homework on the day I get it, and read months ahead with all that spare time in the evenings?” Percy gave a confident nod at her assessment. “It’s not often I swear, Perce, but piss off. Not a chance any one of us mere mortals would be sane after a month of that.”
“Or after a month of sharing a room with Wood at all, really,” Marcus interrupted, quickly ducking the stinging hex Oliver fired off at his head, leaving a dark stain in the stone wall behind him.
Blue eyes met blue once more as Percy and Penny rolled their eyes in unison at their antics, “you realise one of us should take points for that?” Percy tutted.
Marcus shook his head, “oh give it up, Perce, otherwise you’ll have to start taking points from yourself every time I get on your nerves,” he said, flashing a sharp grin that held promises of all sorts of unspoken mayhem.
Percy flicked his cigarette and tutted lightly, “you’re fucking unmanageable, the lot of you,” he chided, although both Marcus and Oliver (and perhaps even Penny, if pressed,) would swear that the way in which Percy said those words, they were almost a compliment.
Oliver sat up with a sigh, cracking his neck to the left and then to the right, “what are we even doing here, I mean I know the weather is shite out, but unless Marcus rewrites this in a language I can actually read,” he said with a glare, sending the parchment back across the room to Marcus with a wave of his wand, “there’s not much I can do except sit here, and Flint isn’t even gonna so much as look at that again today!”
Stuffing her textbook back into her satchel, Penny agreed with a nod, “and it’s hardly as if I’m getting anything done, and we’ve already established Percy has probably prewritten his homework up until the end of the year anyway!”
Percy pushed his chair out from the desk with a sigh, “fine, my mistake for thinking you’d all be able to keep yourself occupied for a few hours,” he grumbled, checking his watch, “it’s almost lunch anyway, so you may as well go down to the Great Hall. Bill made me promise I’d slip down to Hogsmeade early so we could catch up properly, no matter how many times I told him otherwise.”
“Probably good to get a bit of rebellion in you,” Marcus said almost appraisingly, running a hand over what little there was of his closely cropped black hair as Percy vanished the last of his cigarette, “although why he still insists at working in that…place,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the mention of the Hogs Head, “is beyond me.”
Oliver shrugged, opening the door and holding it as they filtered out into the empty corridor, “dunno, but old Aberforth is alright. Probably just likes the peace compared to somewhere like The Three Broomsticks.”
“Although not much to be said for company there,” Penny added, taking on a puzzled look as she found herself in agreement with Marcus.
Percy just groaned loudly as they continued down the corridor, “look if I had to try and make sense of even half of my siblings actions I’d get nothing done, so take it from me, just don’t think about it as much.” It had probably been the greatest lesson he’d taken from the awkward week or so when six out of seven of the Weasley siblings had been living back under one roof as Bill had announced with pride that he’d acquired a position at the Hogs Head on their third night back at home. The announcement, despite confirming Bill’s intentions to remain in Britain, had made his Mother burst into tears with a proclamation that he was throwing his life away.
Strangely, Percy found his appetite went completely unaffected when it wasn’t him on the receiving end of that rant.
The foursome split off, with Oliver and Percy sharing a chaste kiss after a furtive glance around the hallway, as they began to approach the grand staircase, with the now trio heading downwards to Great Hall (with Marcus slowly increasing the distance between them as the number of people around them grew), whilst Percy headed up a flight in search of the one-eyed witch passageway that Bill had informed him of not long after his slightly disastrous career update.
And so, with a whispered password, Percy found himself sneaking out of Hogwarts for the first time, and making his way through a dark, dusty passageway far enough until he could feel the ever so slight change in pressure Bill had coached him to look out for as he crossed outside the reach of the Hogwarts wards.
With a look down at his battered old trainers, a pair he was fairly certain had been either Bill or Charlie’s before they had curated their own wardrobes as adults, he spun on the spot and apparated out of the passageway.
Percy stumbled slightly as he appeared outside the Hogs Head, struggling to find his footing amongst the snow and ice beneath him as he swayed too and fro on shaking legs. After a moment, he steadied himself, finding his balance as he pulled his coat tighter around himself before slowly making his way inside and away from the blistering cold.
“Weasley,” Aberforth grumbled from behind the bar as he stepped into the dingy pub, door swinging shut behind him with a squeak, as he scrubbed at the bar top, washing it down with a wet rag that Percy suspected hadn’t looked clean in his lifetime.
Percy returned a polite smile, “you know, you can’t keep calling us all Weasley,” he commented, taking a seat at the bar as he waited for Bill.
Aberforth made a gruff noise, “course I can. Otherwise I’d have to admit you all merge into one for me. ‘cept for my Worker Weasley, I suppose. Or Girl Weasley, so I ‘ear,” he added quietly, forcing Percy to suppress a snort as he propped his elbow onto a dry part of the bar.
“Alright, Abe,” Bill said cheerfully as he appeared from out of the back with a grin, settling down a crate behind the bar as he acknowledged Percy’s appearance, “so you did sneak out then? Almost proud of you I am,” he joked, slapping Percy on the back as he gathered his coat, “I’ll be back in time for the evening shift!” Bill called out as he began heading towards the door.
Aberforth threw the rag after him, “not like last time then Bill?” He shouted, causing Bill to burst into a raucous laughter as he ducked out the door and away from the old man, leaving Percy to desperately scuttle after him through the doorway.
“Slow down will you?” Percy cried as he slid left and right, stumbling to try and catch up with his brother, “I’d rather not break my neck, if you don’t mind!” He said in a pompous tone, taking on a look of indignation that, against the sorrow of the start of the year, almost filled Bill with a sense of relief.
Bill spun on the spot to face him, stopping in his place and allowing a panting Percy to remove the distance between them, “sorry, Perce, just been years since I’ve been able to enjoy the snow like this, especially the way old Aberforth has me working. He makes cursebreaking seem like light work sometimes, I swear.”
Percy rolled his eyes, shivering and tucking his hands into his pockets, “you have to do a bit of manual labour for the first time in your life and you’re all woe is me now? A day on the reserve with Charlie and you’d be a broken man I reckon,” he joked.
Bill tilted his head knowingly, “I don’t think I’m daft enough to disagree with you on that,” he finished wisely, walking them up towards The Three Broomsticks against the gently drifting snow in the winter air.
“Why didn’t you just try for a job here?” Percy asked for far from the first time as he studied the welcoming old pub in sharp contrast to the worn, tattered building his brother had found himself working in instead.
Bill shook his head, “I told you, I would be simply unable to resist the womanly wiles of Madam Rosmerta and then Mum and Dad would have to disown me when we inevitably elope in the moonlight,” he spun dramatically, giving yet another overly dramatic and overtly false answer to Percy’s querying. “Two butterbeers, Rosmerta!” He called as he swung the door open with a wink, leading Percy through the growing crowd to a small table over in the corner, “lunch is on me, of course,” he reassured Percy as ever, causing the teen to roll his eyes behind his snowy horn rimmed glasses.
“It better have been, ‘cos I’d be bloody hungry if now,” he jibed, turning out his empty coat pockets in a dramatic gesture of ‘see?’
Bill disregarded him, shoving a menu over to him across the table, “what are you thinking, reckon the steak pie will be any good?” He asked, fiddling with his buttons as he slid off his coat.
Percy sighed, “you’ve always been dreadful for this, constantly filling the silence between conversations. You don’t actually need to do it, you know?”
There was a clinking sound as Rosmerta placed two bottles down in front of them, not stopping to greet them as she might’ve done at another table, which quickly had Percy pointed a raised brow in Bill’s direction, “don’t even start.” He said with a warning glare, before continuing just as easily as though it had never happened, “anyway, where’s your Christmas spirit? I’m just in a bit of a good mood is all,” he grinned.
At the mere thought of Christmas, Percy gave a long groan and took a long drink from his butterbeer, hoping that perhaps the sugar would go some way in preventing a sudden and rapid decline of his mood. “The last thing I want to think about is Christmas.”
Bill gave him a smile, but there was something glum to his eyes at Percy’s continued discomfort at their general home situation, “should be fun at least, shouldn’t it? Get to be with friends, you have the castle basically to yourself and you get a right good meal out of it as well, no negativity needed.”
“And what about the fact that if it wasn’t for how much of an absolute mess summer was, we probably wouldn’t even be spending Christmas at Hogwarts?” Percy countered at him with a resigned sadness. “I mean really, you don’t think Mum wouldn’t have forced us to come home?” He added with a watery smile.
Bill gave a sad shrug and took a sip from his butterbeer, “looking a lot better than whatever I’m likely to be doing at this rate still. I can either spend it alone in my flat, have the world's most weirdly uncomfortable Christmas dinner with Mum and Dad, or even Abe, doubt he’s planning much company. Merlin, if I play my cards right I might even be able to get McGonagall to take sympathy on me and gatecrash Hogwarts.”
Percy sat back with a frown, “what, so at least we’ll all be united in our misery?” He quipped, swilling his bottle around lazily with a morose glance out of the window.
Bill’s mouth opened, as though to disagree, before his eyes narrowed on something in the distance and Percy turned his head to follow his gaze, “I’m not certain what it is, but Ron is definitely up to something over there,” he said suspiciously.
Following his eyeline and locking onto his youngest brother, alongside Hermione, Percy’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched them for a moment, “I’m sorry but did the Christmas tree just move? Oh for Merlin’s sake, I swear if they’ve smuggled Harry out and they’re being this obvious about it, they almost deserve to get caught,” he rambled in a tone of exasperation, before turning his head back to face Bill as he took another sip of butterbeer with a sigh, “keep an eye on them will you? I’m sure we can cast a strong enough disillusionment charm between us to get Harry out without notice, even in here.”
Something about the way Percy had spoken about the boy, with a hidden sort of fondness he might not openly confess to (at least, not without a repeat of the summers events and a lot of firewhiskey), made Bill’s face light up with an approving smile, “almost thought you would’ve wanted to rat him out, Mister Head Boy,” he remarked.
Percy shrugged, “if anyone deserves a good Christmas for a change, it would be Harry I suppose. No harm turning a blind eye this once, really,” he reasoned, “suppose I could’ve done with catching a break earlier this year, may as well let him have one where it’s needed.”
Bill gave him a sad look, “how are things back up at the castle?” He finally asked, glancing down to the menu awkwardly as he waited for Percy’s response.
The boy sighed, “I don’t know, Bill, same as last time,” he said in exasperation, “you’d be better off asking Fred and George, really, you know as well as I do they take care of my shit before I’m even aware of it,” he said in a bitter tone, trying to force down the anger that his brothers had felt as though they had to step in just in order to ensure his protection. He took another begrudging sip of his drink as he mulled on it, uncertain of whether he was more mad at himself for the twins viewing him unable to take care of himself properly, or the failure of the Professor’s to take their pleas seriously before they’d intervened.
Bill gave a soft rap on the table, distracting Percy from his thoughts, “Yeah well let’s all try and have a good Christmas for a change, even if just for their sake,” said Bill with a nod back towards Ron.
Percy grumbled, and down the remains of what should’ve been his first butterbeer of several, “alright I’ll try, provided nothing gets in the way and ruins that.”
Of course not even ten minutes later something came along and ruined that as Percy found himself running as quickly through the pub throng as he could and out of the door in search of Harry, Ron and Hermione, the former of whom was most likely up in arms about something or other Hagrid had said about Sirius Black that had been almost audible from the other end of the pub.
“Ron!” Percy cried, panting as he caught up to his younger brother, who was still desperately searching out in the cold for any trace of the missing Harry.
Ron shook his head, dismissing Percy with a furrowed brow, “look, Perce, I know he shouldn’t have been out of the castle, but-“ he began to plead, watching as Hermione continued to call Harry’s name slightly further out into the snow.
Percy sighed and cast a warning charm on Ron as he watched the boy rub together his shaking hands. “I’m not here to give you a lecture Ron, Bill and I had already rumbled you anyway, I’m just trying to figure out what on earth is going on,” he said tiredly, casting a glance back over his shoulder in hopes that Bill might have followed him out.
Kicking some of the snow at his feet, Ron stayed silent, chewing on his lip nervously for a moment as he clearly debated whether or not to come clean with Percy. Hermione, displaying even less patience than Ron, crossed her arms, shaking her bushy head of hair in frustration, “oh for heaven’s sake, honestly, Ron! We didn’t intend to, really, but with where we were sitting we could overhear the Professors talking to the Minister about Sirius Black, and, well, we couldn't help but eavesdrop.” She exclaimed, pushing some of her hair back behind her ears between shivers.
Casting another warning charm on Hermione (and wishing the Hogwarts curriculum had the sense to teach them before their first Hogsmeade weekend,) Percy raised a brow at her, “and?” He prompted, tapping his foot slightly as he peered down on the guilty figures of Hermione and Ron.
Ron gulped, “well, thing is, Perce, turns out Black’s Harry’s godfather, and…and now he’s just disappeared on us out of the blue!” He cried, eyes darting around at the snowy scene before them as though Harry might suddenly pop up out of nowhere.
Percy sighed, putting a hand on either one of their shoulders and gently leading them both back into the Three Broomsticks, “I suppose I should’ve realised nobody would have told Harry. Come and sit down, have some lunch, and we’ll go back to the castle together and look for him ourselves. I imagine he’ll want some time to himself,” he said softly, thinking back to that morning after breakfast, when all he’d wanted was to seal his drapes shut behind him and never come back out again.
Ron gave him a slightly suspicious look for a moment, the sort that had been well ingrained into him after years of practise, before shaking it off and allowing himself to be walked into the pub, “alright,” he agreed, “but you’d best help explain everything to Harry,” he said in almost a warning voice before continuing to stomp through the snow of his own accord.
Only just fighting the smile that was twitching at his lips at the vast difference in their relationship compared to only a year earlier, Percy nodded, “alright, I promise,” he agreed, deciding to ignore the show of impatience as concern for a friend and nothing more, weaving them through the crowd and back over to the table with Bill.
Bill, to his credit, didn’t outwardly react to Percy having acquired two additional guests for lunch, instead shuffling his chair as close to the wall as he could manage, allowing Ron to drag up a stool besides him, with Hermione comfortably squeezing in at the end of the table, “Rosmerta! Four more butterbeers, if you’d please!” Bill shouted over to the bar, which was at this time returned by a rather sour look from the woman in question, however, soon the four drinks in question appeared before them. “So what’s all this then?” Bill asked, “I’m assuming it’s something to do with this Black business?” He confirmed easily, taking a sip from his drink as his eyes shifted between the two third years and then finally back to Percy when the pair shot a silent plea his way.
Percy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “you don’t beat around the bludger, do you? It seems that no one had the good grace to inform poor Harry that Black is his godfather. Frankly, if I’d have thought about it, I’d have done it myself. It was part of what made it all so awful, really,” Percy said, glancing back and forth between Ron and Hermione as he watched them slowly begin to process the conversation.
Bill tutted, “absolutely daft that, course the kid was gonna find out. It was all the papers could hark on about back when he was arrested, even I remember that much,” he said, echoing Percy’s own thoughts.
Ron’s eyes brightened for a moment, “do you think you’d be able to find any of it? For Harry, I mean?” He asked quickly.
Percy intervened before Bill had the chance to reply, “I’d be happy to, the library has archives for the Prophet in the restricted section, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to find the editions from around that Halloween,” he mused, though taking a moment to internally question the wisdom of allowing Harry access to the standard of coverage the Prophet would have provided on the events. He’d give it all the once over himself first, he decided, to make sure there was nothing too unpleasant in there.
With a sip from his butterbeer, Percy felt rather pleased with the decision he’d reached, after all it would only take him a few hours of work at most. And then Hermione got that look in her deep brown eyes, the sort of look that Percy got when he was faced with a puzzle that he hadn’t yet solved entirely, “what about the trial?” She asked after a moment, and for the first time in months, Percy found himself entirely stumped.
Blinking once, and then twice, behind his thick lenses, he turned to Bill with a shrug, “I can’t say I’m even certain on when the trial was, really. I’m barely old enough to remember him being caught, and that’s only because it was on the WWN so much. When the trials started, they just didn’t stop coming, really.” He said, providing what little assessment he could have the events as the memories of his five year old self would allow.
Bill nodded slowly next to him, “yeah, I don’t really remember a trial, but Perce is right, there were a hell of a lot of them going on. It seemed like everyone was being outed as being a Death Eater really, especially after the mess with Barty Crouch’s son,” he added.
Hermione peered at Percy curiously, “isn’t that who you’re applying to work for after Hogwarts?” She asked, recalling some ramble or other he’d given at the dining table, no doubt.
He felt himself flush curiously, bobbing his head awkwardly, “I’m sure Mr Crouch himself is a fine fellow, and after all, he was willing to send his own son to Azkaban for what he did.” Personally, Percy thought the whole act had been horrifically callous, the way he’d seemingly thrown his son to the wolves and never looked back in an attempt to preserve the tatters of his career. He’d recalled reading about it, feeling almost sick as he’d finished reading about the boy who’d been cast out by his parents without a second thought, and found himself wondering whether one day that might just be the situation he’d find himself in. Perhaps, if he at least stuck to working at the Ministry like his Father, perhaps just kept his head down for better or worse, he’d never have to think on that thought further.
“What did he do?” Ron asked bluntly, and Percy found himself closing his mouth not a second after he’d opened it, thinking of the mousy blonde boy who would be affected by the consequences of his idle gossip.
Percy shook his dismissively after a moment, “never mind, dreadful time the war, doesn’t bear thinking about anymore than necessary.”
Ron gave a grumble in response, taking a long swig of butterbeer as Hermione gave him another one of those annoying earnest expressions, “will you try and find anything you can on the trial? It’s not fair on Harry having to learn what happened piece by piece, it’d be best if we can show him all in one go,” she said anxiously.
Percy paused for a moment, thinking of the sheer volume of work that would require, even assuming the trial had been front page news, he’d have to search through at least a year's worth of papers. Hermione’s eyes were beginning to look downcast now, the longer Percy mulled on her question, and with a sigh, he came to the conclusion he’d found an unofficial group project to work on for the foreseeable future, “fine, against my better judgement, I’ll go through and have a proper look with Penny and Oliver when I can, but it will take me a while to find anything, unless you can figure out when the trial was,” he said, throwing her a small bone. He knew there’d unlikely be any books on the war that went into enough detail on the trials and aftermaths, nearly all of the material that had come out in the decade since Voldemort’s fall had focused solely on how the man had appeared seemingly from nowhere and rose to push the wizarding world to the brink.
The ruins that were left behind were of little thought to many of these authors, it seemed.
Bill groaned, “right, now that’s settled, can we finally get something to eat, I’m bloody starving over here!” He proclaimed from the pokey little corner he was nestled in.
Percy rolled his eyes at his antics, “you’re worse than Ron sometimes, I swear.”
When Percy eventually trudged back up to the castle, and back up to the Gryffindor tower, with Hermione and Ron in tow there was still no sign of Harry within the common room, and with one last check that neither one of them wanted Percy to go up and check on the boy first, he watched as Ron and Hermione parted ways, both making their ways up their separate stairway with rather more muted emotions than they ought to have been in for the last day before the holidays.
Part of Percy wanted to call them both back down, and wrap them up in front of the fire with blankets and hot chocolate in hopes of undoing some of the pain of earlier on in the day, but that still wouldn’t solve the issue of Harry, and presuming the boy was in his dorm, Percy rather thought Ron would be of far more use there with him than any comfort Percy could hope to offer, although the fat rat lingering by the fire comfortably was of some reassurance at least after how upset his brother had been over the animals recent illness.
A flash of orange hair popped up from within one of the plush, red armchair with a groan and Percy padded over with a soft smile, sensing an opportunity to at least try and improve the final evening of the term for one of his siblings, “alright there, Gin?” He said warmly, shrugging off his damp robe and draping it near the fire as he nestled into the chair closest to Ginny’s, a mess of yarn tangled across her lap coming into view as he realised the source of her struggles. “Still no luck with the knitting then? I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to teach you over the summer, but, well,” he said with a slightly embarrassed flush at the uproar that had seemed to follow his every footstep throughout the holidays.
Ginny threw down her needles with a sigh, with only a few rows of tangled up yarn to show for her effort, “it’s impossible, Perce, I swear! I don’t know how you and Mum make it look so easy and then I just end up with all this mess!” Percy gave her a small grin, and cleared up much of the mess from where the ball had clearly unravelled at some point with a wave of his wand.
“Have you at least got another pair of needles with you so I don’t need to transfigure some?” Percy asked, fishing out another yarn cake from the messy bag of supplies Ginny had by her chair. She gave Percy a curious look, and then shifted some yarn about with her spare hand, revealing a battered, and slightly bent pair of needles poking out of the top. Percy pursed his lips for a moment as he studied them, causing Ginny to duck her head with embrassment at their state, but he straightened them out without passing any comment or further judgement, and began casting on stitches without even looking down, instead holding Ginny’s warm eyes with his icy blue ones, “I know you can cast on, it’s about the only thing Mum taught all of us to do, so I’m not going to bother teaching you a better way to do things, even though it’ll keep the tension better, until you can at least keep a steady garter stitch together,” he explained, before mumbling to himself as he recounted the stitches on his needle, lips twitching when he came up with an even twenty, “it’ll only be a little square, this, but you’ll pick up the muscle memory easier if you get used to working back and forth between the rows I think.”
Ginny watched as Percy slipped easily into what she would refer to lovingly as his teacher mode, and she thought she’d hardly be the first to question why he would choose the Ministry over what seemed like such a natural career path for him in Ginny’s eyes. She watched as he pushed his stitches slightly further up, “Perce, you might have to slow things down a bit, I don’t even think I know what a garter stitch is!”
It was Percy’s turn to blush this time, “right, erm, sorry about that, I suppose I got ahead of myself. Well, you know the knit stitch mum showed you? You just do that over and over, you don’t swap stitches and you change rows for example, and that’s called a garter stitch, it looks nice enough and it’s easy to know which side faces outwards.” He raised his needles, although unlike Molly he didn’t swap hands as he began to demonstrate the knit stitch to Ginny, allowing her to copy him directly without attempting to work in mirror image, watching as he inserted his working needle underneath and out the back of the switch, before bringing his yarn down in between and slipped it off the end of his needle and onto the other, smiling as he watched Ginny successfully repeat his actions, leaving her with her first stitch on her working needle with a beaming smile, “well done Gin! Look at that! You’ll be knitting in no time, see?” He proclaimed proudly.
“Thanks Perce!” She smiled, slowly attempting to repeat her actions and coming out with an even neater stitch this time, although Percy thought it might have been perhaps slightly tight, noting to keep an eye on her tension, “I still don’t get how you managed to make it look that easy when you were basically doing it backwards,” she mumbled, as she shoved her needle through the middle of the yarn itself in her next stitch, requiring a quick correction from Percy before she attempted to knit that and create the sort of awkward stitch he’d almost definitely have been required to fix.
Percy shrugged, before pausing for thought as he gave her a curious look, “you do remember I’m ambidextrous, right? Mum actually taught me to knit left handed to start with accidentally, although it bugged Great Aunt Muriel enough I figured it out the other way round as well,” he explained, watching as she slowly approached the end of the row he’d idly finished several minutes earlier, stretching out to give Scabbers an idle pet.
Ginny rolled her eyes, “it’s not really the sort of thing I actually think about all that much, I’m used to seeing you swap hands when you’re writing that often I just…forget you didn’t force yourself to because it’s you.” She held up her finished row with pride, the tiny strip of yarn already a far cry from the mess she’d been creating when he’d walked in.
Kicking his feet up onto the table next to the sleeping animal as he relaxed back into his seat, Percy swapped the needles between his hands, ensuring Ginny was following and mimicking his actions before he replied, “frankly, I’m not sure if I should be complimented or insulted you think I’m that obsessive about my work. Being ambidextrous is a convenience, not the type of thing I’d waste years trying to mimic all so I could avoid taking a ten minute break here and there.”
As they began to work on their second row, doing nothing more but repeating what Percy had already demonstrated to her as promised, he could’ve sworn he heard a mumbled disagreement that sounded suspiciously like his sweet little sisters voice, but if it had happened…well, Percy decided that Bill’s words about a good Christmas were more important than defending himself against the sort of frivolous arguments she’d have prepared. And maybe, just maybe a little of Percy’s avoidance was because he knew she was potentially right.
They worked peacefully, with no more sound that the clicking of needles and the crackle of the fire between them, for a while longer, and Percy watched with pride as Ginny’s tiny rectangle had formed into a small, and fairly neat square, with only a single dropped stitch he had spotted lingering at the edges. Her eyes flickered up towards his own work, and she gave a groan as she spotted the basket weave he had begun to idly knit as he had watched her work. “How on earth have you even done that?!” She exclaimed as she stared at the textured piece with her jaw slack.
Percy laughed warmly, “I promise this is nowhere near as hard as it looks, once you have the knit stitch down, I’ll teach you to purl, and this is just a combination of the two in a pattern. Now if you want something difficult, I couldn’t have even managed cabling with this, I’d have needed another needle at least.” He answered, passing over his work to her and allowing her to examine it, flushing proudly as she ran her small fingers over it in awe at first, before she visibly reacted as he finished his words.
“Three needles!” She gaped with a look of horror.
He couldn’t help but burst out laughing, watching as her expression shifted to a look of indignation, “just wait til you hear about how many it takes for socks!” Percy laughed, before accepting his yarn back with a scowl from Ginny, and he began to demonstrate a purl stitch to her, very much at her own insistence.
Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad this year, Percy thought as the sun set on Hogwarts for the evening and the sound of her laughter continued to fill the common room, along with the occasionally sleeping squeak from poor old Scabbers.
“I can’t believe you’ve dragged me into the dustiest back corner of the restricted section, not even a fun bit mind, when I’m catching the train in a couple of hours!” Oliver groaned, helping Percy place back all of the papers from March 1982 into the drawer before dragging open the drawer for April as they continued searching through the back editions of The Daily Prophet.
Percy clucked, “that’s exactly why I’ve dragged you in here with me, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen you at all today,” he reasoned, before reaching out his long slip fingers and slipping the April 1st edition of the Prophet from the top of the pile. Crossing his legs, he opened the paper with a sigh and began to quickly skim through the contents looking for anything to do with Sirius Black, or any of the trails more generally.
Oliver grabbed the next days paper and began to absently flick through it himself, “I just can’t see what’s so urgent about this that you couldn’t wait until I was gone,” he grumbled in response, forcing a groan out of Percy.
He sat forward in his chair, anxiously uncrossing his legs as he started forward in the sort of sudden outburst that had become more…predictable from Percy in the recent months, the sort that had been of so much concern to Bill months earlier. “Look, I promised Ron I’d do what I could, and I just don’t want this hanging over Christmas more than everything else is!” He exclaimed, slamming the paper down in the centre of their table in frustration as he reached the job adverts that filled most of the Prophet.
Oliver sighed as he threw his paper on top of Percy's, placing a gentle hand onto Percy’s as they both reached for another newspaper. “Perce, I - I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I know all of this with Black was getting to you anyway, and the same with Christmas I just…you get into these rabbit holes and then suddenly it’s been a week and you’ve barely slept, and I just don’t want you to be like that whilst I’m gone,” he fretted.
Percy shook his head, taking his glasses off and running a hand across his face as he sat back in his chair, “I know, Oli, I shouldn’t have blown my top, it’s just…this isn’t like that. I’m doing this because I didn’t want Harry having to read all the utter gutter journalism we’ve had to sift through and veto showing him. I just want to get this dealt with before it ends up festering and suddenly we’ve got another situation like summer on our hands,” he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes for just a moment, “it’s just all so depressing. I mean how many trials have we seen like Lucius Malfoy where they just bought their way out of it?”
“Aye, you’ve got that right,” Oli agreed wearily, “I’ve got the sentencing for what happened to the Longbottom’s here, even though their attack was more recent, but not even a mention of Black, and Bellatrix Lestrange was a cousin. You’d think they might've made a reference to the case,” he said, putting the paper on top of the pile alongside Percy’s equally useless last paper, and grabbing the edition printed on the 6th.
Tapping softly on the table top, Percy hummed in response, “almost odd, isn’t it? For all of the outrage about what happened, people seem to have just forgotten about him rather quickly. No run up to the trial like with the Parkinson’s, no nothing.”
Oliver nodded, brows knitting together as he blinked at Percy in realisation, “now you mentioned it, yeah, you’re right, it is weird, isn’t it? Even if he’d already been sentenced quietly by now, you’d think someone like Skeeter would have dug it up and caused uproar that he wasn’t thrown over to the dementors immediately,” he questioned.
Percy began rummaging through his bag furiously, dragging out parchment and a quill and quickly sliding his glasses back on as he wrote and underlined ‘Skeeter’ in large letters at the top of his sheet, “where else might she have written for at the time? She’s never above doing a hit piece, even on someone who she’s been allied with as such in the past, and especially when Crouch was forced to resign over his son, it gave her a prime target. I mean, we’ve both read pieces she did on him during his trial, so the Prophet was willing to some extent, but maybe they didn’t want to risk going after the heir of a family like the Black’s so openly.”
“The Quibbler?” Oliver queried, before receiving a quick shake of the head from Percy, who was chewing on his lip in thought, with that wrinkle in his nose that Oliver found overly endearing.
“Doubt it,” he retorted with speed, mind clearly moving with the sort of speed that Oliver could only sit back and watch in wonder as he began to lay out his thoughts, “I can always check as a last resort, but I’d be more inclined to say Witch Weekly, they do still occasionally offer more serious journalism than what your favourite hair potion says about your personality, and during the war that went doubly so. I wouldn’t be shocked if they did some real coverage of the trials themselves.” Percy answered, quickly scribbling a note down onto his parchment before discarding his finished paper into the pile.
Oliver sighed, and grabbed another for himself, “so what, are we just gonna keep working through the Prophet first until we know for certain the trials are over and then try something like that?”
Percy shrugged, much more despondent as the sheer volume of the task ahead of them weighed on him again, “something like that,” he muttered in response, before flicking the page over with a tired expression.
“It can’t just be me whose eyes are going funny at this point,” Oliver said, pushing his paper away still open and rubbing his neck, “and this chair’s beginning to make my arse numb, if I’m honest,” he added with a slight blush, standing up and pushing the chair back with his legs and he stood, stretching out his arms with a satisfying burn.
Percy stayed seated, but peered up at him over the top of his horn rimmed glasses with a smirk, “oh, is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Oliver wiggled his brows back, forcing a laugh from Percy, who had returned his glasses to the table by now, “well, you’ll have to come here and find out,” he grinned, watching as Percy rolled his eyes, before forcing himself up onto his long legs and crossed the few steps separating them to gently rest his hands on Oliver’s hips.
Percy slid his hands downwards, and pulled Oliver closer to him, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss, softly muttering against them, “doesn’t feel very numb to me,” he said, relaxing into Oliver embrace as he felt hands gently caressing his back, fingertips occasionally catching along the yarn of his jumper.
Oliver hummed against him, pulling back for a breath, “guess you’ll have to check a little more,” he teased, grinning as he felt Percy’s hands slip down to cup his arse properly, before recapturing his lips again, this time with more force, enticing Oliver to give a small bite at one of Percy’s lip and eliciting one of those little high pitched breaths that Oliver took delight in prying from him.
Percy gave a glance around for a moment, long eyelashes fluttering, before he fumbled for his wand and cast a wordless silencing charm around them, before tossing it back towards the table without another look, bringing his now empty hand up to thread his fingers through Oliver’s hair, and he desperately pressed against him, their kiss becoming much more heated now there was no risk of interruption.
Oliver pulled back, panting slightly as he caught his breath, eyes locked into Percy’s, who’s pupils were blown out with lust, with only a thin ring to his iris, as icy blue eyes always seemingly exaggerating the effect in comparison to Oliver, making him look so much more…unguarded, allowing him to watch Percy come undone in a way that only he was able to see. Percy’s hair was a mess now, and there was definitely something pressing against Oliver’s thigh, and he ran a few teasing fingers over the top of Percy’s belt with a grin before pushing his lips back against his, grinning against the clash of lips as he felt how needy Percy already was.
Oliver smiled, sliding his hands back around until they were at the base of Percy’s spine, just gently stroking for a moment before Percy felt himself being pushed backwards into the table as Oliver slid his tongue between his lips, and against his better interests, Percy shoved everything back towards the wall as best as he could feel without breaking the kiss, and allowed Oliver to lift him backwards and up to rest on the table with just two firm hands on his thighs and pure strength from the burly keeper.
Percy parted his thighs and allowed the Scot between them, returning to a passionate kiss as Oliver threaded his fingers through his hair, eliciting a soft groan from Percy, “I’m going to miss you over the holiday’s,” he groaned softly as Oliver ground against him in just the right way to nearly make his eyes roll back into his skull.
Oliver pulled back from the kiss, panting, “oh aye? What exactly is it you’re going to miss most?” He asked flirtatiously, emphasising his sentence with another roll of his hips.
Percy bent his head down, swearing into Oliver’s shoulder, “I really don’t think it’s decent to say in a library,” he said, flustered and face flushed red as his hair in a picture that was erotic to Oliver.
“Would it be decent to do?” Oliver whispered in Percy’s ear in an altogether most indecent manner, slowly dragging his hand down Percy’s chest until he was pressing a firm hand against the bulge in Percy’s trousers, biting down hard on his lip as Percy gave a long whine.
“Definitely not,” he moaned, pressing his hips upwards against Oliver, “although, that being said…” he continued, averting his eyes for a moment as his will caved to temptation and he gave one more glance around at the empty library around them.
Oliver raised an eyebrow, “that being said?” He teased, waiting with an eager for Percy’s reply.
Percy flushed heavily, “well…” he began, “I suppose you could always pull up a chair if you catch my drift.” And, with that same grin still in place, Oliver hooked his ankle around one of the wooden chairs and dragged it underneath him, allowing Percy to rest a loving hand on his cheek as he sunk down into the chair and he began to make light work of Percy’s slacks.
“Should’ve known you’d have a thing for libraries,” Oliver panted, wiping his hair back off his brow.
Percy rolled his eyes, a soft flush still working his way down his neck and ever so invitingly underneath his collar as he leant his head back against the wall as he gathered his breath, “oh piss off,” he retorted lightly, “we’ve still got work to do, you know,” he reminded, as he rezipped his trousers and cancelled the silencing charm he was thankful he’d just about had the presence of mind to cast before he wouldn’t have even had the wherewithal to bother remembering.
Oliver just shook his head in exasperation as he moved the chair back round to the opposite side of the table, casting a silent cleaning charm on the dubious stain he’d manage to acquire on his t-shirt, “how the fuck can you go back to thinking again so quickly?” He asked with a note of indignation as he allowed his eyes to flutter closed whilst he ran a hand through his hair. Percy snorted, shaking his head, and retrieving his glasses from behind him as he slid off the table, before rebuckling his belt and stretching out his muscles loosely.
“If I didn’t think Pince would somehow now, I’d genuinely consider a fag right now,” he finally replied in complaint as he slid back into his seat, slowly shuffling the papers back into a neat pile back into the centre of the table as he ran an eye over his notes, trying to recall exactly where they’d been up to before they’d gotten distracted.
Oliver gave a joking huff, “no getting a straight answer out of you is there,” he grumbled, before flopping back into his seat with a sigh as he finally opened his eyes and gave a passing glance back down to their work on the table.
Percy just snorted as he threw another paper across the table to Oliver, “you should’ve tried for a bent one, you might actually get somewhere,” he quipped, smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he and Oliver burst into laughter.
“Suppose we should actually get to work on these again if you want any chance of getting to the summer of ‘82 before I have to make a run for the train,” Oliver said idly, missing the way Percy’s face had suddenly shifted.
He slowly began to shake his head, “I don’t think we’ll be needing to do that,” he muttered, blue eyes never lifting from the page as he reread it once and then twice again before finally pushing it over to Oliver.
OUR FINAL WRAP UP OF THE DEATH EATER TRIALS
SEE OUR COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF EVERY DEATH EATER SENTENCED TO LIFE
Oliver sighed in relief as he read the headline and began working his way down the page, packed full of moving mugshots alongside ever more rows of names and charges, alongside the dates of the trials as well one after the other. He kept reading down the lines, waiting and waiting to see SIRIUS BLACK typed out in the same angry all capitals like the rest of his compatriots.
But Oliver slowly began to develop the same matching frown as Percy the further he read, as though walking over previously searched grounds as articles they had worked through jumped to mind with each and every name, not a single one going unrecognised between them. Every single trial that had resulted in a life sentence like the one Sirius Black had escaped from had been extensively covered at every turn, including those from within the Ministry’s ranks that had been the source of national scandal and embarrassment, or even the junior reporter at The Prophet, who’s trial coverage had been almost clinically cold in comparison to the salacious tales being spun in over cases, had been forced to receive a begrudging mention.
Finally, he reached the final concluding paragraphs of the article that proudly proclaimed, ‘with all those implicated now brought to justice, the Wizarding World is now finally able to move forward and rebuild.’ Oliver’s nose wrinkled as he read it, before his eyes met Percy’s and they shared a knowing stare, “it can’t be possible…” he whispered in disbelief.
Percy ran his tongue over his lips, “it shouldn’t be possible,” he agreed, but neither one of them dared to voice their doubt any further as they stared silently at the black and white photos beneath them.
“But…” Oliver continued cautiously, sharing another wary glance with Percy.
Percy offered a shaky nod in confirmation of their unspoken conversation, “but…” he sighed, “there seems to be no evidence supporting the conclusion that Sirius Black received a trial right now,” he forced out, mouth suddenly feeling like sandpaper as the consequences of what they had possibly uncovered began to settle in. “We can’t tell Ron,” he began to panic, hands trembling until Oliver reached out to clasp them, “he can’t know, not until we’re certain, Merlin only knows the trouble those three would cause in the meantime.”
Oliver nodded across from him reassuringly, “no need to worry them, aye. We’ll…we’ll try and find out more, after the holidays, drag Penny and Marcus in on it and see where we go from there,” he promised.
Percy suddenly shook his head, “no, no, we ought to go to them now, Marcus might be able to find-“ he argued, stumbling to his feet and making to grab his bag without even bothering to grab his parchment or quill.
Oliver caught his arm, gently holding him in place, “Perce. You’re overthinking this. I…I agree something’s off here, don’t think I don’t, but this isn’t something you should just go barging into. And Marcus would be telling you the same, he isn’t to risk going asking all of these questions out of the blue, and definitely not at home, you’re smarter than to think otherwise, Perce. I know you’re going to end up stewing on this for the rest of the holidays regardless now, but…just try and hold off a little. If just because you’re not exactly subtle when you’ve got something kicking around up in there.” He said, pulling Percy down into his lap after he watched the fire finally drain back out of his eyes.
“Alright,” he sighed into Oliver’s hair with no further resistance, “I’ll…I’ll talk to Bill about it in the meantime if it’s still bothering me. Might even be able to help out, always had a few interesting friends,” he relented.
Oliver nodded, nestling his face into Percy’s neck and took a soft breath, “see, you can talk sense,” he grinned, letting his eyes flutter closed as the scent of old books, ink and coffee that was so overwhelming Percy (and definitely didn’t make up the scent of amortentia for him), as he relaxed into Percy’s embrace properly for the last time for 1993.
Percy just shook his head gently at the jibe, “I only said I’d leave it for the holidays. First day we’re back, I’m dragging the four of us together and setting out where I’m up to with it so we can figure this out once and for all,” he reiterated, eliciting a small chuckle out of Oliver.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less, Perce, wouldn’t expect anything less,” Oliver smiled upwards at Percy, watching his freckles almost seemed to disappear like camouflage against the soft blush on his face.