RP: Smoke and Mirrors
Characters: Percy Weasley, Cyril Bollington (NPC)
Location: Ministry of Magic
Date: December 8, 1999
Status/Warning: Closed/None
Summary: Percy calls upon his inner Slytherin to get George's name on the port key list.
Completion: Complete
It was a little like confronting a wild animal, really, these career paper-pushers. Percy would know, he used to be one. So he smiled tautly across the desk at Cyril Bollington while shuffling through the rolls of parchment he'd brought.
"It's really nothing important, we just want to make sure we have all of our facts straight now that the restrictions have been loosened a little. Keep abreast of our clients in case something comes up." Percy remembered his first attempt at this the day he'd met Theodore--granted that had been on the public relations end of things. "I'd also like to see if Theodore Nott was still in your port key records, as he is now one such client and may need special accomadation for his sister, Anastasia--"
Cyril shifted in his chair. "I remember Mr. Nott quite well," he said in a way that indicated the memory was not a welcome one. "But I have no objection to you checking our records, Mr. Weasley."
The boon. Gold. The key to all of his and George's future success was removed from a shelf and placed in front of him.
'Brody come on, man!'
Percy pulled out his glasses very slowly and began to page through. It wasn't much a stretch to act half-blind when he had been for the longest time. Healing his injuries after the final battle had corrected the problem somewhat, and left him with the perfect ruse. With every silent moment that passed, Percy waited for a knock on the door that would tell him that Brody had flooed over on urgent business. Fingers trembled only slightly.
"Nadir, Nester..."
Knock, Knock, Knock
'Yes!'
"Sir, there's a Mr. McDermont here with an expidited request form." A nasally female voice called from beyond the heavy door.
"If, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Weasley." the small round man bobbed like a boiled egg in water by way of apology. "I will be back momentarily."
Percy barely waited until the door was pulled partially shut again. His hand flew for a ready-inked quill kept between his fingers, flipped to the W tab and scanned for a spare slot.
Skritch---
Nothing. The ink didn't take.
Percy cursed, scanned the desk, mind working.
'Charmed, of course! but how? special ink, quill or does he have to write it? Oh hang it all!'
He could hear Brody start to yell through the fireplace in the Department waiting room. Gritting his teeth, Percy grabbed a gold-tipped quill on the desk, dipped it in the open inkwell and prayed.
'PleasePleasePleasePlease...'
The ink sunk in, glittering gold and vanishing for a moment before appearing again, totally gilded on the page.
"George Weasley..." Percy mouthed, writing as swiftly as he dared without it being illegible. There was a last angry bellow as Brody finished what was garunteed to get him a smiliar reaming at work the next day, but by the time Cyril Bollington returned, Percy was re-shuffling his papers, smile still in place.
"I am so sorry about that Mr. Weasley," the squat man bobbed again, inching into his chair. "The nerve of some people. No reguard for policy, none at all, never mind that it's all done for their protection."
"Absolutely," Percy agreed, forcing himself not to smile wider. "But I've checked over things at it looks like Mr. Nott's signature is where it should be. Thank you very much, sir."
Cyril nodded again, apparently unable to not make it a full body motion. "Yes, yes, good day."
Percy pocketed his own quill and stood again, striding out of the Department of Magical Transportation main office. The charm he'd brought to show George as an example of what he wanted was still in a robe pocket and he rubbed over the embroidered calligraphy with a thumb.
For the first time he understood why George and Fred enjoyed what the did.
Location: Ministry of Magic
Date: December 8, 1999
Status/Warning: Closed/None
Summary: Percy calls upon his inner Slytherin to get George's name on the port key list.
Completion: Complete
It was a little like confronting a wild animal, really, these career paper-pushers. Percy would know, he used to be one. So he smiled tautly across the desk at Cyril Bollington while shuffling through the rolls of parchment he'd brought.
"It's really nothing important, we just want to make sure we have all of our facts straight now that the restrictions have been loosened a little. Keep abreast of our clients in case something comes up." Percy remembered his first attempt at this the day he'd met Theodore--granted that had been on the public relations end of things. "I'd also like to see if Theodore Nott was still in your port key records, as he is now one such client and may need special accomadation for his sister, Anastasia--"
Cyril shifted in his chair. "I remember Mr. Nott quite well," he said in a way that indicated the memory was not a welcome one. "But I have no objection to you checking our records, Mr. Weasley."
The boon. Gold. The key to all of his and George's future success was removed from a shelf and placed in front of him.
'Brody come on, man!'
Percy pulled out his glasses very slowly and began to page through. It wasn't much a stretch to act half-blind when he had been for the longest time. Healing his injuries after the final battle had corrected the problem somewhat, and left him with the perfect ruse. With every silent moment that passed, Percy waited for a knock on the door that would tell him that Brody had flooed over on urgent business. Fingers trembled only slightly.
"Nadir, Nester..."
Knock, Knock, Knock
'Yes!'
"Sir, there's a Mr. McDermont here with an expidited request form." A nasally female voice called from beyond the heavy door.
"If, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Weasley." the small round man bobbed like a boiled egg in water by way of apology. "I will be back momentarily."
Percy barely waited until the door was pulled partially shut again. His hand flew for a ready-inked quill kept between his fingers, flipped to the W tab and scanned for a spare slot.
Skritch---
Nothing. The ink didn't take.
Percy cursed, scanned the desk, mind working.
'Charmed, of course! but how? special ink, quill or does he have to write it? Oh hang it all!'
He could hear Brody start to yell through the fireplace in the Department waiting room. Gritting his teeth, Percy grabbed a gold-tipped quill on the desk, dipped it in the open inkwell and prayed.
'PleasePleasePleasePlease...'
The ink sunk in, glittering gold and vanishing for a moment before appearing again, totally gilded on the page.
"George Weasley..." Percy mouthed, writing as swiftly as he dared without it being illegible. There was a last angry bellow as Brody finished what was garunteed to get him a smiliar reaming at work the next day, but by the time Cyril Bollington returned, Percy was re-shuffling his papers, smile still in place.
"I am so sorry about that Mr. Weasley," the squat man bobbed again, inching into his chair. "The nerve of some people. No reguard for policy, none at all, never mind that it's all done for their protection."
"Absolutely," Percy agreed, forcing himself not to smile wider. "But I've checked over things at it looks like Mr. Nott's signature is where it should be. Thank you very much, sir."
Cyril nodded again, apparently unable to not make it a full body motion. "Yes, yes, good day."
Percy pocketed his own quill and stood again, striding out of the Department of Magical Transportation main office. The charm he'd brought to show George as an example of what he wanted was still in a robe pocket and he rubbed over the embroidered calligraphy with a thumb.
For the first time he understood why George and Fred enjoyed what the did.