[The feed opens quite abruptly on a young man looking into the device with a combination of consternation and confusion. A finger appears and taps on the screen, then the view promptly swings around to a pair of perfectly polished dress shoes. The view shakes for a moment before coming back to Percy's face, brow still furrowed.]Oh, I think it's
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Had they even parted on good terms that weekend? Civil, at least? She'd been awful. But they'd still spoken. They'd been in the same room and she didn't draw her wand.
Breathe.
Breathe.
... How is she supposed to react to this? How is she supposed to greet him?]
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Percy?
[... or her tone, for a matter of fact.]
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You've been brought here, too? That is absolutely unacceptable. Don't worry. I'll get us back to England.
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I'm not worrying and no, you won't.
[... Alright, maybe she ought to reel her temper back in just a bit more. She pauses, working through the tightness in her throat, and when she speaks again, her voice is more even. Maybe softer on the edges. A little.]
And you haven't got to yell, I can hear you just fine.
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A moment, and when he speaks again, it's in a more normal tone.]
I will. I'm waiting to hear back from the people in authority here. They can't just be yanking British citizens without any regard for anything; it's unconscionable.
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Percy, look.
[Play nice, Ginny, remember the last time the two of you talked.]
The "people in authority" here... the deities-they don't exactly care about being, er, unconscionable.
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What do you mean?
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[A pause, and he lowers his voice a bit more.]
- the normal way?
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[She pauses, then huffs out a breath.]
At least we had the option to leave the castle. Though I suppose it's about time this place started collecting more of our lot or something.
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[She isn't about to break any news when she doesn't have any answers of her own.]
Can't quite say, not until I ask a few questions too. You worked in the Ministry, Percy, you know all the laws about Time-Turners, don't you? [Hypothetical question.] The City mucks around with time, so I've got to ask when you're from.
[Pause.]
Of course, given that you're actually talking to me and want to save your baby sister from this awful place- [She manages to keep the mocking from her voice, actually, it's just sort of matter-of-fact.] -I think I can guess.
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[He heard that noise, and it had to have come from her, because who else would it come from? It sounded awful, guttural, sharp and ugly, and he's immediately concerned for her. If something's wrong, he wants to do something to help her.
And then, after a moment that's dragged out just a little too long, she speaks, and he's too stunned to reply for a moment. He finally manages to gather his shattered composure to speak:]
...2011? How is that possible? And when - when are you from? If not May 1998?
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Doesn't matter. I know the same things you do.
[Maybe not everything, but enough.]
How- [A bit stiffly,] How are you, then?
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