Percy Weasley

They sat frozen in a moment in time, a breath that sat lodged deep in his chest and blocked paths for air to replenish his mind. All pride and excitement dissipated, Percy's chest that had been puffed out in importance earlier now caved in as he started out with the rest of the crowd. It seemed ridiculous, making people sit for an hour in the freezing cold, but every set of eyes were trained on the lake, mild whispers of anticipation.

Percy had thought nothing of it, assumed at first that Ron, like usual, simply didn’t want to see him and tactfully avoided him. It had been stupid to write to his little brother, fevered words scrawled over the parchment that he would be there for the next task and above all else, judging it. He didn’t blink at the lack of response from Ron, Ginny’s small reply of a simple congratulations enough to give him a minor boost of confidence. It wasn’t until he set foot back in the castle that he felt the sting, the bitter memory of Ron’s reaction to him at the Yule Ball in place of Crouch. Even Fred and George showed some acknowledgment of him, the annoying mockery of Weatherby, but it was better than just flat out ignoring him.

The hour had passed, the excitement in Bagman's voice as he announced it to the packed stadium, vibrated louder when gasps were heard through the stadium, not just the crowd itself, but the heads that broke the surface of the Black Lake. The puzzle came together before Percy. The stitch in his chest expanded, eyes wide behind the glasses with fingers clenched hard against the arms of the chair. Bagman’s words came together in a sickening churn of his stomach, Cedric swimming alongside another, guiding the raven-haired girl to the docks. Something was taken, something that each champion cherished the most. Percy had assumed it was a belonging, some prized possession. Never in his wildest nightmares did he expect permission to be given for people to be taken.

Dumbledore would never . . .

“Two minutes after the hour and Cedric Diggory is first to return!” Ludo Bagman’s voice rang out, the cheers from Hogwarts deafening. “With fantastic use of the bubble-head charm!”

In every moment that passed, Percy edged closer to the railing, his heart pounding at the base of his throat. It wouldn’t be Ron. Crouch would have told him. Surely, he would have mentioned in his letter telling Percy that he was to judge the next task that it involved his little brother; that Ron was somewhere at the bottom of the lake.

Thoughts stalled as the surface rippled once more, not like before with people but in a jet of red that shot into the sky that sent the crowd into a hush. In a flicker of desperation to prove himself wrong, Percy forced his eyes from the lake and into the sea of faces, eyes narrowed as he tried to make out any distinguishing features, find the shock of red hair and freckles. It was madness. To place students in danger as champions was one thing, but to use their friends or lovers as pawns was another.

“And,” Bagman’s voices rolled, drawing out the word as the dark figure from the lake shot up from the depths. Percy bit back the scream that curdled in his chest, the wild gasp for air from the young witch that bobbed in the water, a terrified look on her face. “Here’s Miss Delacour! Ah what a pity, what a shame! But wait . . .”

Like everyone else, Percy's attention flitted from Delacour and the struggle to pull her from the water as she fought to dive back down, to Bagman as he stood in excitement. There was a roaring scream of delight and fear as the pointed noise of a creature rose from the water.

“It’s Viktor Krum as a, yes! An incomplete transfiguration of a shark but highly impressive all the same!”

All color drained from Percy’s face as he shot to his feet in alarm to the faint face of the girl beside Krum. The sight of Hermione shredded any doubts he had that Ron wasn’t at the bottom of the lake. Sparked a terror that pounded through his veins.

Everything in the stadium was silent, uneasy glances between the judges and professors alike with each minute that passed. Of course, no one would be left at the bottom of the lake, Percy knew it, but facts did nothing to stop the panic from spreading like a wildfire in his chest as the clock ticked well past the allocated time. At what point did they call it and go collect the missing? There was a violent tremor in his hand, nails running his arm in nerves as Percy leaned dangerously over the edge, scouring the lake for any sign of the last heads to rise.

“You need to call this,” he whispered to Bagman. “We need to get them.”

“Give ‘em a few more minutes, laddy.”

Lips pressed in a thin line, Percy turned dangerously on Bagman. It took everything in his power to not throw himself at the man and knock the smug look off his face. It was all a game to him, zero concern for anyone involved as long as he got his entertainment in the end. He didn’t fight Harry’s name being pulled from the Goblet. From what Percy had heard, Bagman practically foamed at the mouth in glee at the prospect that Harry Potter mysteriously outsmarted Dumbledore and the goblet. Shoulder’s squared back as the clock ticked away, Percy’s nose curled with a snarl of warning.

“Ay! What do we have here,” Bagman roared.

Percy spun instantly, clung to the railing in an attempt to spot what Bagman had seen. For a moment he thought it was a trick, a means to distract him but then he saw the three dark shadows rising in a swell of blackness. Elation and dread fought for control inside him. If it was Ron, as he suspected, there would be hell to pay. Crouch, who said nothing to him, gave him no warning to prepare himself with. Dumbledore for even permitting this and Bagman for just being his usual self.

Screams tore through the stadium the moment Harry broke the surface, Ron beside him and a small girl on the other side, and Percy’s knees gave way slightly in his strangled gasp of relief. He didn't wait for the announcement, didn't care to hear what Bagman had to say. In one single breath, he was gone, tearing down through the small passages, all duties forgotten as he forced his way past healers ready and waiting with towels.

Ice pierced his skin as water flooded his shoes, the Ministry cloak weighing him down against the tide that tried to force him back. None of it mattered in that moment, not the suit he had saved up months for or the Ministry cloak he guarded with his life. His focus was only on Ron as he waded out to them, panic-stricken and trembling as he hauled his brother into a tight embrace that was unlike him, one that almost sent them both toppling into the lake.

“Gerroff, Percy, I’m all right!” Ron grumbled. His hands pulled and pried against Percy’s firm grip on the front of his cloak, stumbled as he was pulled forcefully from the lake.

Bagman’s voice rang out, the deafening roar of the crowd muffled against the blood pounding in his ears as healers swarmed. Words were lost to him for once, relief on his grey face as he hovered annoyingly beside Ron as he was checked over, made sure everything was okay. It wasn’t until Ron turned from him that Percy stepped back, the stitch in his chest still there, became more painful at being purposefully ignored by his brother. Head low, he retreated back up to the top box alongside the others to finish his job.

* * *

“Mister Weasley, how nice of you to-”

“What are you playing at?”

He was barely a foot in the door, face pulled back in a snarl that matched a tone he rarely used. The moment he heard the details, the horrific reality of what they had done Percy stormed through the halls of Hogwarts, legs working in muscle memory to where he needed to go. The astonished look on everyone’s face grew, Dumbledore’s smile still warm and welcoming, but it wavered in response. If anyone had asked Percy if he ever believed he would barge into the Headmaster’s office, ready for a fight, he would have laughed it off as a wild fantasy. But he stood now, red faced in anger and ready.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“You gave them enough drought to allocate for an extra fifteen minutes,” Percy snarled, his hands balled in fury, the rise of pink in his face prominent against his severely paled complexion. Anger exploded in him like firecrackers.

“Weasley,” Bagman interjected, a chortle at what was a clear overreaction. “There was no real danger.”

“They just made it in time!” His voice carried through the headmasters office, a rage that burned so bright in Percy he wasn’t able to bring it back under control as he rounded on Bagman. “Why in the hell did you not call it!”

“Percy.”

The softness in Dumbledore’s voice set Percy on edge, the frustration that it was all just a game. The horror still lingered in the back of his mind, Ron’s gasp for air as he broke the surface of the lake. Percy knew Ron wasn’t in any real danger, that leaving people down at the bottom of the Black Lake would incite an attack on the Ministry and Hogwarts itself not just from their own people but every person from Beaubaxtons and Drumstrang. It didn’t quell the horror, didn’t stifle the noise that left him the moment he saw Ron’s head bob up from the water. All he felt now was fury riddled deep within, an undiluted and unfiltered rage that was unknown to him.

“You do not really believe anyone was in real danger, I wouldn’t -”

“You’re all allowing Harry to compete, so excuse me if I am questioning your intelligence in all of this, never mind your intentions!” Percy’s exuded an animosity that was like acid, each word burning, slicing, potent.

There was a moment of silence, eyes wide in shock apart from Dumbledore who stood with the smile on his face. “I understand you're in shock, but you must remember that this is part of the tournament. It was part of the task and your brother knew and agreed, knowing full well what the risks were.”

 His face rose in different shades of red from the suppressed rage he tried to keep harbored deep within him. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t place the face he was glaring at to the one that everyone looked up to, himself included. 

“I don’t care that Ron agreed or that he is best friends with Harry. He will not be included again. Ron. Ginny. George. Fred. My family is off-limits in this twisted little game. If any of them are included again . . .” His eyes sought out Bagman at the threat as well and narrowed in disgust. “I will make it my personal mission at the Ministry to bring you to your knees.”

Dumbledore’s face was closed off as he seemed to consider the promise of hell Percy would bring. “I can see Bartemius is rubbing off on you.” 

It was a backhanded compliment, one that slid under Percy’s skin. Chin high, he refused to let it be known that the words along with Bagman’s snicker bothered him. In a swift turn he was back out the door, words muttered under his breath of what he planned to say to Crouch when he saw him next.