24 November 1994
Pride was a fickle emotion, one that had the power and ability to elate one’s mind, send them spinning in joy. It was rare that Percy exhibited anything other than an air of professionalism, minor slips in moments of pure exultation; Gryffindor winning the quidditch house cup the previous year, lost in the atmosphere around of the quidditch world cup. But in the moments of the succession of his own gain, his hard work paid off, Percy only became more puffed out in his importance. Despite his family’s mockery over his work with Crouch, that he was given jobs no one wanted to deal with because he was a brown-noser, Percy excelled. Arthur, who had showed immense pride when both Bill and Charlie climbed the ladder in their respective fields, only grimaced at Percy’s.
Letter clutched in his hand, Percy ran through the Burrow practically bursting in excitement as he rushed for his father to show him the news. Percy brimmed with pride as he showed off the letter, a direct letter from Crouch requesting his assistance, not the higher up in their department but h i s. The bitter remark from his father that it wasn’t something to be excited about, that Crouch was known for using his new members in meaningless tasks and that this was probably no different, did nothing to hinder Percy’s high. A night spent wondering what he would be needed for, possibilities that were endless with the Tri-Wizard Tournament that was taking place came to a crashing halt, hurried steps to keep up with his boss as they approached the powder blue carriage.
“The young lady heard that dragons were to be a part of the task and tried to release them,” Crouch explained, his nose turned up with disgust. “No doubt in cahoots with your brother.”
It was no secret in the Ministry that Charlie had caused quite the stir at the Ministry leading up to the task, the poor soul who had to deliver the request for four nesting mother dragons returning rather bruised head to toe. Percy had tried to explain to Crouch that Charlie was no the one to ask, knowing his brother well enough that he grabbed the tedious paperwork for quill’s that were from pigeons being disguised as high quality over having to go to his brother. It took five trips to Romania for them to get permission from the owner, not the easy task Crouch thought he would have by using a Weasley.
“I doubt Charlie had anything to do with it. He would never set them free to be hunted down by the Ministry.” There was a firm look from Crouch and Percy bowed his head, his tie readjusted nervously. The memory still fresh of Crouch’s belittling just weeks before when Percy had spoken out about Harry being a part of the games.
“Your brother,” Crouch replied nastily. “Is the reason I had to redraft the entire first task. Forcing protections to be put in place, for dragons? If I find out he helped this girl . . .” It was an empty threat. There was nothing he could do to Charlie, but that wouldn’t stop him from lashing out at Percy. “Which is where you come in, Weatherby. She is not permitted to leave her carriage during the task, should she try anything again.”
Percy stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes on the massive carriage. His father’s words rang in the back of his mind, stomach sinking that he was right. “I’m sorry, you brought me here to watch a Beauxbatons student?” Still behind in his own work back at the Ministry that Crouch had piled on before he left, Percy stared at him almost dumbstruck. “Sir, I have work to finish back at the Ministry.”
A scowl appeared under the unmoving mustache. “Why didn’t you bring it with you?”
“I didn’t think I’d be babysitt - ”
“What else would I need you for?” Crouch snapped back before Percy even finished speaking. “Unless you can’t handle this, in which case I can owl -”
Percy held up his hand, ears so red it was impossible to spot them against his hair. “No, Sir, I just wanted to make sure.” It was pathetic and Percy could hear his brothers mocking him just like they did when they found out that the person Percy spent all summer talking highly about couldn’t even remember his name. If they could see this now, how Percy succumbed to the most pathetic of jobs just to feel wanted and needed they would never let him live it down. He really was nothing but a disposable face to Crouch.
The doors to the carriage swung open, a line of blue cloaks departing for the old Quidditch stadium behind the massive woman that Percy knew to be Madam Maxine, their headmistress. Percy waited a moment, a creep of darkening thoughts emerging before he followed Crouch into the carriage. It was beautiful inside, the curved roof that made it feel much larger than it looked on the outside. White walls that were laced with gold, caught the eye and pulled the eye to every inch of French architecture that was stunning and Percy noted the silver lining. At least he wasn’t stuck in a dingy or freezing place.
“Miss LeBlac, this is one of my many assistants, Weatherby. He will be keeping you company during the task.”
Percy’s gaze fell on the blond witch and he almost laughed. It seemed implausible that she was the one who tried to set dragons free. She either had a death wish or there was more beneath that Crouch wasn’t telling him. With a small wave, Percy forced the smile as Crouch exited the carriage.
Percy was nothing but a glorified babysitter.
