Magic is Might

Percy found it impossible to tear his eyes away when he emerged from the Ministry's well-kept Floo system and stepped quietly into the Atrium. It was inevitable that his attention would be drawn to the new and grotesquely beautiful statue that now embellished the most frequented area of the building. The vast sculpture commanded the room, enchanting minds within a single look, but it wasn't until after Percy neared the center of the hall that he was able to make a closer inspection.

He promptly wished that he had not. Jaw clamping, his freckled face cleared itself of all emotion much like it had done numerous times in the past. This time, however, it was a completely unconscious action, one of both shock and necessity. Resting within grasp of his trembling fingertips, the ornately carved image displayed two handsome figures governing a sea of madness; their decorated feet crushed the stupid, unseeing faces of countless marble victims. Percy was so paralyzed in his horror that he found it hard to breathe, the accompanying fear an unwelcome, peculiar feeling to his mind as he continued to stare. He was enthralled even as nausea tightened its grip on his stomach.

He stiffened minutely as a tall figure moved to stand beside him. "Something the matter, Weasley?"

Percy forced his eyes away and shook his head, turning to address the question. "Not at all, sir," he managed over the lump in his throat.

"Good, good." A cool gaze met Percy's. As department head of the MLE, Yaxley was one of the many wizards around whom Percy tread carefully. "I'd hate to think that something was wrong with this exquisite piece of artwork. There's not, is there? Quite a bit of time and government money went into its development..."

The redhead cleared his throat, prolonging the motion to give himself time to think. "No, in fact I was just admiring the... details."

Catching the pause, Yaxley ignored the intruding voice of an apparent associate across the room. He smiled unpleasantly, gesturing for Percy to continue.

"It is good to see the mundanes and blood traitors put in their rightful place. Overall, the work itself is undeniably sophisticated in its opulence and majesty," Percy spoke a little too quickly, looking nervously around the room to avoid Yaxley's scrutiny.

"Spare us the vocabulary lesson," the Death Eater said blandly, now satisfied. "It's a rather nice statue. Carry on to your post."

"Yes, sir," Percy answered.

"That's what I like to hear, Weasley," the older man called while Percy started walking briskly in the opposite direction. "I'll be keeping an eye on you and your work." He allowed the barest flash of yellow eyeteeth to escape his lips.

A shiver ran its course down Percy's spine. He wished he could run, even lengthen his strides, but the calculating eyes on the back of his head limited him to the leisurely rush of a businessman. Still, the heart beating laboriously in his chest urged him to get away. Away from the prophetic mass of death haunting the Atrium, and away from the casually smirking predator he knew was watching.

Just, gods, away.

The moment he slid into his cramped broom closet of an office his wish was somewhat granted in the form of paperwork, which appeared to be stacked in conspicuously larger piles than how he'd last left it. The smell of old ink and dusty parchment greeted him. Percy loved paperwork. It let him fully concentrate on something other than life, often for hours at a time.

He ran the palm of his hand over the nearest stack, pushing it farther away from where it perched precariously at the edge of his tiny, wooden desk. Even with magic, scattered paper took forever to pick up and re-alphabetize. Percy allowed himself a small smile after satisfied that none of his work was in any immediate danger. He stood still in what little space was free in the enclosed area, breathing in the familiar scent, and was about to remove his outer-robes when the door creaked open, allowing a head of long, brown hair to slip through the crack.

The intruder glared at him accusingly.

"You're some kind of scum, you know that?"

Percy stared derisively back, eyes creasing behind horn-rimmed frames. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," the figure, a female colleague, said. She pushed into the already overcrowded room, guiding the door closed with a careful foot. "I saw you out there with Yaxley, Percy. What in Morgana's name do you think you were doing? Not that I care," she hissed, "but what happened to all that infamous pride you had at Hogwarts? You were practically simpering!"

He spared her an intent look before continuing his morning routine, hanging his robes on a hook and lightly loosening a striped tie.

"Don't ignore me!"

"Who said I was ignoring you?" he queried. "Perhaps unsubstantiated comments like that just don't warrant any response, Miss Taylor."

The woman flinched, scowling cutely. "I hate that name. You know I hate that name."

"Obviously."

"Okay, whatever, 'Weatherby.' So now tell me what the bloody hell you were doing brown-nosing that Death Eater!" She threw up her arms in disgust.

Percy sighed and stopped unloading his bag. "What else would you have me do?"

"Well..." She looked surprised.

"The Ministry is clearly a puppet government of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and his servants have just erected an imaginative monument to genocide," Percy hissed, his voice barely a decibel above a whisper. "What would you have me say to that, exactly?"

"I don't know, how about nothing?"

"…and that would help me how?" Percy said, softer now, with less bite to his tone. "This isn't like when we first graduated and sycophantic actions meant a promotion while silence meant pride. Right now the former option is the only option besides mysterious disappearance or a dirtied left arm. Do you understand me?"

His coworker merely nodded, stunned by the gravity of his tone. "I… I didn't think it was that bad."

"I didn't want to admit it either, but all you need to do nowadays is look at the world around you. You-Know-Who is slithering his way into every crevice of society, and sooner or later normal people like us will just accept it. When was the last time you heard someone denounce You-Know-Who in public?"

"I haven't, not since before the Headmaster died," she said, losing some of her vigor. "Not since he was murdered."

"Exactly." Percy rolled the sleeves of his collared shirt up to his elbows and sat down. He mentally reviewed that day's schedule, flipping through notes to himself from the evening before. "Now, if I were you, I'd go back to my own office before someone important caught me socializing rather than 'furthering the good' of the Ministry. You should leave," he said with finality.

She didn't budge.

"Miss Taylor?"

Unwavering gray eyes locked themselves with Percy's. If he was surprised by their emotion, he didn't show it.

"Percy, please, we aren't students anymore, and you aren't the Head Boy assigning me prefect duties. My name is Audrey Taylor, and we share the same, pathetic job."

Percy casually leaned back in his seat, the front legs of his chair hovering an inch or two above the ground. He gripped the edge of his desk to stabilize himself while he regarded Audrey. Her curious eyes focused briefly on his lips when he parted them to speak.

"Fine," said Percy, "but you should still leave."

"I don't want to."

The metallic ends of Percy's chair landed with a thud.

Audrey switched her gaze to the ground. "I'm frightened."

It should not be possible to feel so exhausted that early into the morning but, as Percy was discovering, anything was conceivable with the Dark Lord and his charming personality running things. He ghosted a manicured hand over his face, letting it linger at the bridge of his nose.

"Of what?"

"Of going back out there after you confirmed my fears."

She was beginning to look paler than usual. By the way her shoulders drooped, Percy realized when he shifted his body to face her, something more had given her reason to worry; his perceived transgressions were not the force behind her emotional state after all. His brown eyes shone with sudden understanding and he stood, placing a pale, careful hand on Audrey's arm.

"Who did you think they weren't serious about threatening?"

The brunette hung her expressive features lower, hiding them behind long bangs. "There was a Ministry-sealed letter with my Owl Post this morning. I knew it wasn't my paycheck early because the goblins normally handle that kind of stuff, so I got curious and opened it right away. It… it informed me that I'd be interrogated in the near future about the purity of my blood and that of my relatives," she said. "Until I saw you praising that disgusting waste of tax money, I thought it was just a survey or something."

Percy stepped back to give her more room. "I don't know much about you or your family, but I thought you came from a magical background?" He frowned.

"Yeah, I did grow up in the magical world," she admitted, peering up at him slightly, "but both of my parents are muggleborn. They lived as muggles after graduating from Hogwarts and then came back when I was about five or so. When it was safer."

"After Harry caused the first fall of You-Know-Who, you mean?"

"Yeah…" Audrey trailed off, thinking. "So I guess I'm sort of sorry for barging in here and yelling at you. I was angry. Those mounds of engraved muggles might as well have been my aunts and uncles, for all that matters."

"I understand." He chanced a glance at what little view of the hallway his window afforded. "Now, really, I'm not lying when I say you should—"

"Do you think they'll kill my family, Percy?"

The unfortunate pureblood found himself the sudden focus of Audrey's interest. It was unnerving, but there wasn't much he could do other than shrink back when she started advancing. Audrey paused after the backs of his thighs brushed the desk. She looked at the taller man expectantly, and Percy was at once aware of just how pitifully undersized his office was. It made him uncomfortable.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm not going to lie to make you feel better," he said.

"I know." Audrey shifted her weight between legs but didn't move any farther away. "Believe me, I'm not asking for you to."

"Then you don't need my opinion to grasp the extent of You-Know-Who's hold on our government. If your parents are sought out and confirmed to be muggleborn, it is very likely that they will be eradicated like the rest. That ghastly statue is testament to that."

Audrey closed her eyes. "How did it end up like this?"

"We're nothing without the Headmaster or Harry Potter, it seems."

"Oh? And why not? Why can't we, trained wizards, fight back to defend our own livelihood? That boy's just a teenager! Why is he the only one that can save…my family…?"

"Look at me," Percy entreated. She refused to allow him to see the tears clinging to her dark eyelashes, livid in her shame. "Please, look at me."

Percy heaved a large sigh, thinking fast. He gripped her faintly tremulous chin between two slender fingers in a rare moment of kindness.

Her face reluctantly rose.

"Listen," said Percy evenly, "I don't know why so many people place their trust in Harry Potter. He is one of true mysteries of our world, a puzzle that no one holds all the pieces to. I don't understand a single thing about him. But my family does... and they believe that he will come back, that he's somewhere out there fighting to stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Can't we still do something?"

His eyes clouded in thought. "Yes, of course we can. We can refuse to submit, which will make all the difference when Harry returns. Until then, any revolts will be shot down one-by-one until there's no one left to help him."

"We can stay alive," Audrey murmured.

"Yes." Percy released his grip on her and pulled an ash wand from the holster on his arm. It was quick to ward the room and conjure paper. Percy grabbed the nearest quill.

"Here," he said after a moment. "The person at this address will get you in contact with someone that can hide your family, and you if need be. You can trust them with your life, rest assured."

Audrey accepted the note, reading it quickly. "Shell Cottage? Who…?"

"My eldest brother. Don't tell him I sent you."

"Why not?" She peered at him, trying to catch a glimpse of emotion from his stony features.

"Just don't, or I swear I'll obliviate you without any strain on my conscience."

"Okay, okay," Audrey said, about to laugh despite his seriousness.

"Promise?"

She grinned suddenly, surprising Percy. "It's a promise."

It was only a second before Audrey gripped the man's tie in her unoccupied hand, jerking him forward in one, smooth motion. She stopped Percy's yelp with soft lips, and he instinctively gripped the desk to steady himself. He could taste months of fear mingled with the sweetness of gratitude behind her kiss.

Relinquishing his lips, Audrey burrowed her tear-stained face in his chest, snaking her arms around his neck; one wayward hand gripped his auburn hair tightly.

Percy hesitantly returned the embrace—an impulsive action, she bet, but exhilarating all the same. He pressed her flush against his chest until there was not the tiniest gap between them, doing his best to shoulder her burdens.

Percy observed her through half-lidded eyes. "What…was that?" he asked.

Audrey sniffled. "A thank you. I think I'll finally take the hint and leave so that I can avoid our superiors the rest of the day," she spoke after a pause.

"Audrey, I-"

Audrey withdrew and reached for the door. "Keep in touch!" she said over her shoulder.

Percy smiled crookedly at her retreating form before eyeballing his paperwork. "I will…Audrey," he whispered into the silence, testing the novelty of the name. "I give my word."