Percy Weasley

“It’ll be our little secret, eh Weatherby.”

Crouch Snr. words resurfaced as Percy stood at the mouth of the Forbidden Forest, back to the castle as he stared into the darkness that ebbed closer to him as the sun set. Panic began to spread across his chest, every breath met with little expansion of his lungs, leaving him dry and wanting more. But with every inhale it became harder to draw in the next, to subdue what was rising on his arms as a result. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait. At some point he would have to go to the castle, would have to admit to what was happening.

He should have known better, should have seen or sensed something was off the moment Crouch asked him to take on added responsibility, things that no assistant had business doing, nevermind a novice in the Ministry. Percy was a pleaser though, anything done that would further his career, no questions asked. He had been foolish to go against his gut instinct and now his stomach churned at what exactly he had gotten himself into. In a desire to believe he was special, that he was hand selected by Crouch for his immaculate decision making and ability to juggle many responsibilities at once; that Crouch saw a similar passion and drive in Percy as he did himself and took him under his wing, Percy was now ladened with more than he could take on. It was all a ploy, something deeper happening just beneath the surface that Percy was initially too afraid to scratch at.

He just wanted to believe that someone saw something in him. Prove his family wrong, show them he would indeed be someone one day.

Dusk skimmed the sky and Percy’s jaw clenched harder with every passing moment as fear blended with anger pulsed through him. Crouchs orders were simple, meet him outside the Forbidden Forest to discuss the upcoming final task and how things had been going. Crouch wanted something to report back to the Ministry with, something to show them and the press that nothing ominous was happening despite the fact they allowed a fourteen year old to participate in tasks he was ill equipped for. Tensions rose the moment that Harry had been selected as the fourth champion. Even though Percy wasn’t overly fond of the young wizard anymore, he felt the compelling pull during the tasks, a brotherly protectiveness that unnerved him as he had to sit and watch - wait to see if death would take away someone his family considered to be one of them.

It wasn’t just Harry now though, Percy locked to the judges booth in horror as Ron surfaced from the black lake, hours spent in the murky waters, held hostage by mermaids. He had no idea they involved his brother in the second task but he knew Crouch did, knew the man had a list of who was taken under and while Percy should have suspected he never dreamed they’d actually take Ron. Crouch had promised him his siblings safety, swore that despite Harry being a champion nothing would happen to his brother or sister. Like a coward he didn't show, put Percy in charge of the scoring and only spoke through owls. The letter from Crouch sat heavily in his pocket, Percy planning more than just to have a simple conversation with the older man once he dared to show his face. Whether he had the balls to actually say what he had planned was another matter entirely.

The panic spread to his arms, nails unable to sooth the itch under the layers. The hives were a sign of his stress levels, the duress his body was being put under and trying to force him into submission. In a quick glance, he noted the time from the castle tower. “Bloody hell.” He needed to say something, voice his concerns to at least Dumbledore. He could feel the danger around the corner, everything he was risking the longer he waited to speak up but pride was a wicked thing. He wasn’t ready to admit that he messed up, wasn’t prepared to hear it from his family what a failure he was, the shame he brought them by being pig-headed. That he was only chosen by Crouch because he was a sheep - a nobody.

Twiggs snapped near the opening of the forest, Percy’s attention fixed on where he believed it came from. Hand on his wand he waited a moment, uncertainty in the situation. There was no reason for Crouch to be in the forest, not unless he was up to something. When they snapped again, Percy listened closer and a momentary relief filled him knowing they were footsteps coming towards him. He let out a long breath into his cold hands, face up to the dark sky above as he readied himself for his speech, to tell Crouch exactly what he thought and where to shove it.

“Bit late for you to be out here, don’t ya think?”

Percy didn’t mean to groan out loud, a fluid yet subtle string of curses mumbled into the palms of his hands. It wasn’t Crouch.

“Everything alright, lad?”

The smile placed itself on Percy's face before he lowered his arms, a meticulously look of perfection making over the stress, fear and anger that were all raging within as he faced the one who exited the forest. Percy tried to maintain control over his reaction, but he knew the man instantly, all the stories his father told them flooding Percy. “You’re Alastor Moody!”

His steps were rough and uneven as he advanced on Percy, his appearance just as mad as his father had described. “Don’t know why you’re so surprised, you’ve been here long enough to know I’m a professor here.”

Percy winced at how stupid he must have sounded in front of someone so great, a hero by all standards. “Right, sorry. Just, my dad speaks so highly of you and I never actually thought I’d met you.”

“Weasley.” It wasn’t a question and Percy extended out his hand as he went to introduce himself. “I know who you are Weatherby.”

Weatherby. The ridiculous insult of a name caught him off guard, Percy’s face flushing to the color of his hair. He hated it, was a stern reminder that to Crouch he was expandable, not even worthy of being remembered. Percy wasn’t a hard name to remember and even so, he was a Weasley appearance wise through and through. He hide the rise of anger well, kept the smile firmly in place to not show that the name got to him, that he was growing to despise the man he modeled himself after.

Curiously, Percy looked over at the mad auror. Few knew he was called that, only his family and the man who expected so much from him but couldn’t even remember his name. “Sorry, Weatherby?”

The fake eye whizzed around in the metal clamp, studying Percy before Alastor shrugged. “Your brothers mock you with it here at school. And your father may have told the Ministry the story for a good laugh.”

The color of his face went darker, embarrassment burning into his skin. He wasn’t surprised by his brothers, especially the twins, using that blasted name. They had been calling him it since the Quidditch World Cup but his father . . . it destroyed Percy to hear and for a moment the air of perfection fell around him.

“I didn’t mean to upset ya, I’m making a point to you with it. Grow a set and make them remember you or you’ll be Weatherby forever. Why are you out here anyways? Student or not, what lies beyond these trees isn’t safe for anyone.”

The lie was there and ready, a quick small thing that remained at the tip of his tongue. He needed to speak with someone and while Dumbledore would have been ideal, Moody was just as good of an option in his eyes. Awkwardly he pulled out the letters from Crouch, every owl sent to him with instructions of what he needed and wanted Percy to do. “I don’t believe Crouch is acting himself. This isn’t the man that originally hired me. He’s claiming sickness but . . .” Percy handed over the letters, a weight from his shoulders going with them. “I think I messed up in following these. I’m going to Dumbledore and Fudge tomorrow because I know something isn’t right.”

“You want some advice?”

Percy’s lips curved into a lost smile. “Please.”

“Give it a few days before you report anything. I know Crouch and he’s probably just testing you, seeing how loyal you are.”

Unease settled deep within Percy. He knew what he had to do, believed it was the right thing but if Moody was right and Crouch saw him as weak, disloyal he had the ability to destroy Percy’s career before it even took off.

“I’ll hold onto these and if you haven’t heard anything from him by the end of the week express your concerns. Don’t you have work to finish?”

With a small nod, Percy gave his thanks unable to shake the growing sense of dread took over the weight that was once on his shoulders.