Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter
Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter
Summary: It's the summer after OotP, and Percy Weasley is a man without a mission.
Episode 2, Mad Season
"Tell me, young Mr. Weasley. Why do you want to work for Ollivander's?"
It was stuffy in the office at the back of Ollivander's wand shop. The summer afternoon was hot; the leaded glass windows were sealed shut and the air full of dust. Percy fought the urge to tug at his collar.
"Well, sir, I've always had the greatest respect for Ollivander's as an institution of wizarding society."
"Have you?" Mr. Ollivander said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "I remember you, young Mr. Weasley. Laurel oak and safat feather, I believe, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir." A drop of sweat trickled down between Percy's shoulder blades and he suppressed a shiver.
Ollivander was still watching him, thoughtfully. "It takes a certain aptitude, Mr. Weasley, to fit the right wand to the right wizard. You could have it, I think. The question is whether you possess the passion -- the skill is useless without the passion."
Percy inhaled sharply, dust tickling his nose. "Is that so, sir?" he said, for want of anything more insightful.
"It is." Ollivander looked at him, a bit more shrewdly than made Percy strictly comfortable. "You have a lot of potential. That much has always been clear."
"Yes, sir?" Percy's nose itched insistently. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress the urge to swipe at it.
Ollivander nodded sagely, confirming something more to himself, it appeared, than to Percy. "I'll leave you to think it over. Sleep on it, perhaps."
Percy sneezed.
*
Some beautiful women, it had been Percy's experience, were best viewed from afar. Proximity showed up their flaws, their artifice, their shallowness. Getting too close ruined the illusion, revealed their beauty as brassy and false.
Celia Williams was not one of those women.
The more time he spent with her, the more he appreciated her. She was smart, sensible, savvy and, yes, very attractive. Even on a rainy Thursday night at home, in ratty, faded jeans and a t-shirt, she was lovely and she knew it. Unlike most beautiful women Percy had known, however, she didn't use that knowledge to her advantage.
Williams' flat reflected her personality: chic, understated, with just a hint of pragmatism; done in charcoals and blues, with surprising bits of color in unexpected places. Percy approved of it. It was the sort of place he would have chosen for himself if he'd had the money.
He hadn't been able to figure what, if anything, a woman like Celia Williams saw in him, but he'd never been particularly interested in looking gift horses in the mouth.
She'd lit a fire in the small, deco ceramic-tiled fireplace in the living room. It was really too hot for it, but Percy found the fire comforting. Rain drummed on the windowpanes and roof, the fire popped and sizzled as the occasional raindrop found its way down the chimney. He stretched out near the hearth and watched the flickering of the flames.
Williams had an antique LP player that worked with actual electricity. (Percy couldn't help thinking how intriguing his father would have found it, but quickly pushed the thought aside.) It was thrown open casually on the hardwood floor and plugged into the wall behind the fireplace. (The electrical wiring didn't always work, Williams had explained, because of magical interference and the fact that it was a very old building. But she took what she could get.) She also had an impressive record collection. Propping himself on one elbow, Percy combed through it, picking out artists he'd never heard of and asking her about them while she fixed them both drinks.
"Oh, put this one on," she said, taking one titled Time Out from his hands. "You'll like it. I guarantee."
Percy smiled. "You can predict what kind of music I'll like?"
"If you don't like Dave Brubeck, I'll throw you out onto the street."
"Ah," Percy replied, taking the record back and putting it gently onto the player. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of how to handle the tiny needle, but at least he didn't scratch anything when he lowered the arm.
Williams poured him a glass of port, then poured one for herself. "So, how goes the hunt?"
Percy groaned, accepting the glass. "Wretched."
She flung a pillow down beside him and flopped onto it, nearly upsetting her wineglass. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I had an interview today." He took a sip from his glass. "But, God help me, I don't want to sell wands for a living."
Williams frowned, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. "I don't blame you."
"I probably should take it. I need the money, after all."
"It can't be as desperate as all that. We've only been out of work a few weeks."
Percy sighed. "True, but I can't help worrying. Eventually my savings are going to run out. If I spend all my time looking for the perfect job..."
Williams smiled sympathetically. "You're right, of course. But that doesn't mean you ought to take the first thing that comes along, either. Especially if you know it isn't right for you."
"Oh, enough of my woes," Percy said, taking another drink. "Tell me about your new position."
She smiled, a little ruefully he thought. "There's not much to tell. It's a political consulting outfit. Not exactly as prestigious as the Minister of Magic's private staff, but not a bad place to land, considering…"
"Well, congratulations again." He raised his glass to hers. She leaned in and clinked it against his.
"Thanks, Weasley."
"Any time, Williams."
She sipped thoughtfully at her drink, propping her chin on one hand. "Don't get discouraged about searching for a job. I expect there's something really spectacular waiting for you out there. You just have to figure out what it is and make the most of it."
"You know, someone said something similar to me just the other day."
"Really?"
"It's a rather funny story, actually. I had to sing- and I just realized that the only reason that story is funny is if you're laughing at me, not with me, and there's no way I'm going to finish it now."
Williams laughed. "They made you sing at Waggley, too? I just about walked out of the office."
"What did you sing?" Percy asked curiously.
She glanced sidelong. "I'll never tell."
"Why ever not?"
"A girl likes to preserve a little mystery, you know." She paused. "Plus, you'd probably laugh."
"I would never!"
"You say that now, because you don't know what it is. How do you like the Dave Brubeck?" she asked, deftly changing the subject.
"Is there any answer I can give that would be safe?"
"Did I really frighten you? If you don't like it, you can say so. I'm not so formidable as all that."
Percy shook his head. "I do like it."
"How is-" she hesitated slightly, "everything else?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there was some talk. I mean, people said... things about your family."
"I don't know what you heard, but it was probably exaggerated."
"I heard that they disowned you over a political disagreement."
"All right, maybe not so exaggerated then..."
Her eyes widened a bit. "It's true? I thought- I guess I didn't think it possibly could be."
"There is," he admitted, "a bit more to it than simply that."
"But, still…" She shook her head. "My parents vote Labour exclusively, and they have yet to run me out of the family."
"Well, it's not as though the Labour party is in league with Voldemort."
She grinned. "I don't know about that."
"It's not just the politics. The wizarding community is so small. Everything one member of a family does affects every other member. It's nearly impossible to be your own person." He waited for Williams to say something, to stop him with some kindly-meant platitude, but she didn't. "Of course I love my family, I just can't-"
She sat up, leaning toward him. "I know, Weasley."
She was very close. He looked down. Her feet were bare, the toenails painted slate-blue -- the same color as her eyes.
"I should probably go," he said, standing up.
Williams raised an eyebrow. "Sure. I've got an early day anyway."
She stood as well, leaning in and taking the wineglass from Percy's hand. She looked up at him, watching him for a long moment, as though she was trying to figure him out. She moved a little closer and his breath caught in his throat.
"I ain't got nothin' but the blues," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"That's what I sang, for the career counselor. I Ain't Got Nothin' But the Blues."
She looked at him for a long moment, then began to laugh. "Really? How appropriate. Oh, poor, poor Weasley.”
"Well," he said. "You've laughed at me and I survived. How could your song possibly be worse?"
Williams took him by the arm and began to lead him toward the front door. "I'm not laughing at you. I just think it's so perfectly suited."
She opened the door and Percy paused. "Come on now. I've told you what I sang. It's only fair that you tell me yours."
"You'll have to be more persuasive than that, Weasley," she said with a wicked grin and shut the door behind him.
He was halfway home before it occurred to him to wonder exactly what she meant by that.
*
Ginny couldn't remember a summer as hot and oppressive as this one.
The house at Grimmauld Place smelled like dust and death, and Ginny just wanted out. They were living on top of each other, too many of them, with too many things that couldn't or wouldn't be said. Secrets hung in the air, like static electricity before a lightning storm. Doors were locked and shut, conversations came to abrupt halts whenever someone new walked into the room. There were whispers in the night that Ginny tried to convince herself were not ghosts or memories or monsters under the bed, but she wasn't always very successful.
She had thought when Hermione came to stay, about three weeks in to the summer holiday, that the tension might ease, but she was wrong. Ron and Hermione locked themselves away in an upstairs bedroom, saying little or nothing to anyone else in the house. At first, Ginny amused herself with the idea that they might be up to something naughty, then remembered who she was dealing with and discarded the notion as ridiculous. More than likely, they were up there obsessing about Harry - as usual.
So the house stayed quiet. The twins were gone. The adults crept in and out of the place like grim-faced shadows - except, of course, for Tonks and Kingsley, who were the only bright spots in Ginny's world that summer. Her mother didn't exactly approve, she knew, of either Tonks, who was clumsy and loud and made completely inappropriate jokes, or of Kingsley, who was good-looking, single, danger-prone and just young enough to be a credible threat to Ginny's virtue. (If her mother only knew…) But neither was around enough to really help. So Ginny cleaned and dusted and cooked and chopped and generally felt like a charwoman. Or Cinderella. If only Crookshanks would turn into a fairy godmother, or, better yet, a handsome prince.
If she didn't get out of there every once in a while, she was likely to scream out loud.
Not, of course, that anyone would let her go anywhere. Which was why, when the owl had come about Percy, addressed to Any Member of the Weasley Family, she'd jumped at the chance. Without Kingsley as an ally, of course, she'd never have gotten past the front door, but he seemed to have taken a liking to her, and to have taken some sort of bizarre pity on Percy -- not that Percy deserved it.
It was afternoon, a few weeks after they'd rescued Percy from The Welsh Green, and it was raining, dully and heavily, the rain not doing anything to disrupt the heat or the humidity. Crookshanks was curled up sleepily on the hearth, watching with one eye open while Ginny sliced up fruit for dinner. She stabbed viciously at an orange and wondered why none of the men in the house ever had to help out in the kitchen. Couldn't Ron help get dinner for once?
The kitchen door opened and Ginny swung around, knife still in hand, to tell whichever member of her family was entering the room to grab a knife and help out. She stopped short, dropping the knife, when she caught sight of who it actually was.
"Kingsley!" she said. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight!"
"The call of duty," he grinned. "Besides, the food here is better."
"Due in large part to me. You owe me."
He came over behind her, leaned in and neatly snagged a slice of cheese from a plate on the counter. She swatted half-heartedly at his hand.
"Couldn't live without you," he said with a wink. "I'd starve to death." There was an extended pause while Kingsley ate three slices of Stilton in rapid succession, then grabbed another. "What are you up to tomorrow?" he asked, grabbing a piece of bread to go with the cheese.
"Why?" she asked absently, shredding a head of cabbage into a bowl.
"I thought we might pay another visit to our friend in Belgravia."
"Huh?"
"You know," Kingsley said significantly. "Our friend. The one who can't hold his whiskey."
"Who? Percy?" she said. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"
Kingsley threw up his hands and flung himself into a chair at the table. "I give up, you know." He grabbed a knife from the table and neatly skewered a piece fruit from the platter. "This is a crazy house, full of crazy people."
"Who's crazy?"
"The lot of you. I never know from one minute to the next how any of you are going to react. Last week it was 'Oh, my brother's such a wanker. Don't mention him in front of my mum'," he said, in a high, squeaky imitation of Ginny's voice.
Ginny frowned at him. "That's just petty, and I do not sound like that." She turned back to the stove. "Why do you want to see him, anyway? Sure, we helped him once but-"
Kingsley shook his head. "Ginny, do you really think that your family is doing him any favors by cutting him out completely?"
"He's the one who-"
"Doesn't matter," he cut her off abruptly. "That's how it starts, sure. He did this; they did that. But ten years from now, will it matter who did or said what? Will it matter two months from now?"
"But-"
"Do you trust me, kid?"
"Well," Ginny began hesitantly, "sure. Of course I trust you."
"Then you're just going to have to trust me on this, too. You won't regret it."
Ginny grinned. "You might."
Kingsley reached out a slightly sticky hand and mussed her hair. "Nah."
*
The next day wasn't any better. Hermione and Ron still weren't really talking to her, or anyone. Ginny didn't think they were doing it on purpose. They didn't even notice anyone else, and that actually made it worse. Her mother had an endless list of chores for her, as though keeping her busy would somehow keep her safe.
Kingsley came home at lunch, though, and Ginny brightened up considerably.
"I'm taking the afternoon," he said, relaxing at the table as Molly brought him a fresh cup of tea. "I thought we might go out, Ginny."
"Kingsley," her mother said warningly, "I'm not sure it's safe for Ginny to be wandering around outside."
Ginny sighed heavily. "It's broad daylight, Mum, and I just want to go for a walk. Or something. I'm going crazy stuck in here."
"It's all right, Molly," Kingsley said. "I'll be with her."
"Well," her mother said slowly, "I suppose it's all right, for a little while, as long as she's with you." She didn't look too excited about the prospect, but couldn't really refuse without insulting Kingsley. She'd been far more careful about that sort of thing, Ginny noticed, since Sirius died.
Ginny grabbed her bag, grabbed Kingsley by the hand and had them out the door before her mother could have second thoughts. They took a roundabout path to get to Percy's. Kingsley wandered expertly, seemingly aimlessly, in the direction of Percy's flat, trying to throw-off any would-be pursuers.
"Do you really think someone might follow us?" Ginny asked. Her feet hurt; the sandals she was wearing weren't exactly practical for hiking all over London.
Next time, she thought, I'll wear sensible shoes... Who am I kidding? No, I won't.
By the time they got there (and up several excruciatingly long flights of stairs), Ginny had three shiny, new blisters. Kingsley knocked on the door.
"It's open," Percy said weakly.
They pushed the door open and went inside. Percy was splayed on the sofa, his head on the rolled arm, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. A quill and parchment lay discarded on the side table.
"What are you up to, Percy?" Ginny asked.
"Slowly starving to death, if you must know," he said, not bothering to move.
"What's the matter with you?"
"I just turned down an offer of employment. It may be the single stupidest thing I've ever done."
"I doubt that," Ginny muttered, but quieted down when Kingsley yanked hard on a lock of her hair.
"What was the job?" Kingsley asked, taking a seat on the sofa beside Percy.
"With Ollivander's, selling wands."
Ginny made a face. "Well, no wonder you said no. Who wants to work in retail?"
Kingsley gave her a look, and she had the sense that if he'd been closer he might have yanked her hair out by the roots this time.
"You don't have to take the first thing that comes along, you know," Kingsley said, attempting to look wise. "It's not as though there's a shortage of work-"
"But I was sacked," Percy said. "Nobody will want to hire someone who's been sacked." He sat forward, putting his face in his hands. "I don't even know what it is I would like to be doing."
"There has to be something."
"Yes," Percy said, "there was. I wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic. I'd wanted it since I was a very small child."
"Well, you've gotta expand your horizons now. Nothing wrong with that." Kingsley patted him manfully on the shoulder. "You just have to figure out what you want, and go after it."
"I want a jam doughnut," Ginny offered helpfully. Kingsley looked appalled.
"That does sound good," Percy said, surprising them both. "There's a bakery around the corner, if you'd like."
So they went. Kingsley paid, a fact they all pretended to ignore. The doughnuts were fresh and hot, and the coffee better than average.
"Since when do you drink black coffee?" Percy asked her. "It will stunt your growth."
Ginny hooked her feet around the legs of her chair. "My growth is stunted anyway. I'm never going to be any taller than this, no matter what. Just look at Mum."
"How-" Percy flushed a delicate pink beneath his freckles. "How is she? How is... everyone?"
"Fine," Ginny lied, then immediately regretted it. "Well, mostly fine - as fine as they can be, considering."
"Ah."
Ginny went up to the counter and bought a second doughnut. When she came back to the table, she said, "Everybody's okay, though, Percy. They're worried, they're unhappy, but they're all right."
"Thank you, Ginny."
"Any time," she said, and smiled at her brother for the first time in what felt like years. "Now, pass the coffee pot."
*
On Saturday morning, Ginny wandered downstairs, a letter from Dean in one hand and four of the homemade molasses cookies she'd stolen from the kitchen the previous night in the other. She turned at the landing and nearly tripped over Ron and Hermione who were crouched there in the shadows, eavesdropping on the adults talking in the parlor.
"What the-" Ginny had to grab hold of the banister to keep from pitching forward down the stairs.
"Shh!!" both Ron and Hermione hissed at her.
"What is going on?" Ginny whispered, but they just waved at her to be quiet.
It couldn't be anything that important, Ginny thought. Not if the adults were talking about it right out here. Order meetings were always held behind closed doors, complete with secrecy spells and anti-eavesdropping charms.
"And Shacklebolt?" someone said from the parlor. Ginny started and leaned in closer to hear.
"He didn't check in last night..."
"Has anyone checked with the Ministry?"
"It's too soon. We can't without it looking too suspicious."
Ginny's blood turned to ice. She leaned her head against the wooden bars of the banister. Ron was looking sidelong at her, but she pretended not to notice.
It didn't work.
"What do you know about this, Gin?"
Hermione turned to look at her as well.
"Nothing," Ginny managed. "Not really."
Hermione gave her a look that said she didn't believe a word of it, and that nettled Ginny for some reason.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You two go ahead and keep all kinds of secrets from the rest of us, but let me do it and suddenly-"
"What are you talking about, Ginny?" Ron looked genuinely perplexed.
The door to the parlor opened then, and Hermione grabbed them both by the arms and dragged them back up the stairs, even further into the shadows.
"Keep your voice down, Ron," she said.
"What are you talking about?" he asked again, more quietly this time, turning back to Ginny.
"I'm talking about you two. All summer, all you've done is whisper and skulk around acting like you know things the rest of us don't!"
"We do not skulk!" Ron said.
"Ginny," Hermione began, in the maddeningly reasonable tone of voice she used with first years and house elves. "We're just worried about Harry. Surely you understand that?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. That's why it's so annoying."
"What do you mean?"
"Huh?" Ron added insightfully.
"I know I'm not as close to Harry as you are, but I still care what happens to him." At this, Ron began to look hopeful. Ginny pointedly ignored him. "And maybe I haven't fought as much evil as the three of you have, but I was there with all of you at the Ministry in June and- and Kingsley is my friend, damn it!" she said, appalled to discover that she was close to tears.
"Ginny," Hermione said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, Gin. I'm sure Dad and the others will be able to help Kingsley." He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "They know what they're doing."
"But you heard them," Ginny said. "They aren't going to help."
"Of course they will," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "They're the good guys."
Right, Ginny thought, they're the same good guys who let Dad get bitten by a giant snake. The same good guys who let Sirius get killed.
"Oh, this isn't helping anything!" she said, shaking both of them off and starting carefully down the stairs. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it before it was too late. She looked around the corner, first one way, then the other. The parlor door was closed again and there were muffled voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. The coast appeared, for the moment, to be clear. She made a run for it.
"Where are you going?" Ron whispered fiercely. "Ginny! Come back!"
"To help Kingsley! If the Order won't do it, I know someone who will!"
The last thing she heard before the front door clicked softly shut, was a hissed, "I'm telling Mum!"
*
Percy was in the middle of a very good Saturday afternoon nap, accompanied by very good dreams, dreams in which he was gainfully employed, well-fed, well-dressed and in love with a dark-haired girl who sang in the shower. So, he was understandably upset when someone woke him by banging repeatedly on his front door.
"Open the door, Percy!" his sister said from the hallway. "I know you're in there! You've got to be, you haven't anywhere else to go!"
"Didn't anyone," Percy said, standing up but not opening the door, "ever teach you that it's nearly impossible to catch flies with vinegar?"
"Open the door, you massive wanker!"
Percy opened the door. "If you've just come over to insult me, you needn't b-"
"Kingsley's gone," she interrupted, pushing her way into the flat.
"What?"
"You heard me. Gone. Vanished. Disappeared in the line of duty."
On closer inspection, Percy could see that Ginny was white to the lips. She sat, wringing her hands. "No one will do anything about it, either," she continued. "They're too afraid of drawing attention to him, for whatever good that will do if he's really in trouble-"
"Drawing attention to him?"
"Because of-" she stopped abruptly. "Well, never mind why."
"If you mean because he's one of Dumbledore's undercover agents within the Ministry, I already figured that out. Do give me some credit," Percy snapped.
"I just thought you could help," she said miserably, and Percy immediately felt guilty.
"Oh, Ginny," he said, sitting down beside her. She was huddled in on herself and he was reminded of her as a very small girl, with scraped knees or pulled pigtails. "I'll see what I can do."
*
It was still raining, sluggishly, making the afternoon long, grey and dreary. The heavy air clung to Percy's clothes and dampened his hair as he walked. He turned his collar up to keep out the rain. It mostly worked.
Michel's, more familiarly known as "Mike's," was a trendy, corner bar frequented by the younger generation of Ministry workers. It was not the place Percy would have chosen for a clandestine meeting. He was bound to see people he knew. But Luke had insisted they meet there, and Percy was hardly in a position to make demands. Once inside, though, he was pleasantly surprised. The bar was almost completely deserted. Apparently, Mike's wasn't as popular on the weekends as it was during weekday happy hour.
"Thanks for meeting me, Luke," Percy said, sliding into a corner booth that was conveniently hidden from both the door and the bar. "I appreciate it."
"How could I refuse?" Luke grinned. "This is the most excitement I've had in weeks." He pushed a drink across the table. "I ordered for you. Scotch and soda, right?"
"Thanks," Percy said, taking a drink.
"And then there's this." Luke handed over a thick roll of parchment, sealed with Ministry wax.
"What's this?"
"A copy of Shacklebolt's last field report. I'm not sure what help it will be but-"
Percy broke the seal and began to skim through it. "This is fantastic! How did you get your hands on it?"
Luke looked pleased with himself. "It took some doing, but I called in a few favors." He grinned. "Plus, now I have a date with one of the girls down in Files and Records. You know what they say about those Files and Records girls..."
"Way to take one for the team, Luke."
He grinned widely. "Any time, Perce, any time." He paused. "We miss you at the Ministry, you know. A lot of people think you, Williams and the others got a really raw deal."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
"How is Williams, anyway?" he asked, a little too casually.
"Why would you ask me?" Percy responded carefully.
"Oh, come on, Weasley! We've all heard the scuttlebutt." He leaned over and punched Percy on the shoulder. "Good job, mate. She's absolutely corking."
"Ah, yes. Well," Percy said, floundering around for a way to change the subject, "thank you for the files. They will be very helpful."
"Why do you need to know all this, anyway?"
Percy paused. "Let's just say it's a family matter."
Luke's eyebrows rose just fractionally. "I see." He took a long drink from his pint. "You just have the one sister, right?"
"Yes. What does that have to do-" Percy's eyes widened as he got it. "I assure you, that isn't what this is about."
"Okay, okay," Luke said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You can hardly blame me, though. Shacklebolt does have a bit of a reputation."
Percy hadn't known that.
"Anyway," he said, trying to push any possible suspicions about Kingsley and Ginny out of his mind. (She had been awfully distraught about his disappearance, though. Hadn't she?) "I'd better get going. I don't want to run the risk of getting you into any trouble."
"I'm always in trouble," Luke said, shaking Percy's hand as he got up to leave. "We should all get together sometime, somewhere away from the Ministry's prying eyes."
"And where exactly would that be?" Percy said dryly.
Luke laughed. "I was thinking Majorca, or maybe Amsterdam."
"I doubt we'd be safe even there."
"Anyway, think about it. You and Williams, me, some of the old crowd from Hogwarts..."
"The girl from Files and Records?" Percy asked, grinning.
"Maybe. Ask me again after my date tonight."
"It sounds like a good time, Luke. We'll have to do it."
"Definitely. Good luck with whatever this thing is with Shacklebolt, by the way."
"Thanks," Percy said, tucking the parchment into his jacket and turning up his collar again. "I may need it."
*
"So I thought if I retraced his steps, following the field report from his last case, I'd have a good chance of finding out where he's gone," Percy finished, feeling rather proud of himself as he looked up at his little sister.
"No, no, no," Ginny said, practically bouncing on the balls of her small feet. "Definitely a bad idea."
"If you have any other suggestions, I'd love to hear them."
"Well, no," she said, moving to the stove and fiddling with the teapot to cover her anxiety. The gesture was so like their mother that Percy had to swallow hard.
He'd left Ginny at his flat all day, while he'd pounded the pavement and called in favors to get information about Kingsley, and had come home to three dozen freshly baked cookies, two pies and an alphabetized bookshelf. Compulsive housework, apparently, ran in the family.
"How else did you think I was going to help, Ginny? Why did you come if you didn't want me to try and find him?"
"I didn't- I didn't think, I guess." She collapsed into a chair. "I just wanted someone to do something. Now I'm not so sure that involving you was a good idea."
"I see," Percy said coldly.
"Well, it's not like you have any experience at this sort of thing. You might get yourself killed, or worse!"
"One might almost think you care what happens to me," he snapped.
And that was when she hit him.
Not hard, just enough of a smack to get his attention. "You moron," she said, thwapping him on the shoulder several more times for good measure. "No matter what you do; no matter how big an idiot you make of yourself, I would care if you died. We all would. How could you think anything else?"
"Ow," Percy said.
"Oh, shut up. That could not possibly have hurt."
"Ginny," he said, taking her by the shoulders and making her sit down at the table. "I am not going to do anything dangerous. I am going to go and look at the places Kingsley went before he disappeared. I am going to look around, hopefully find something helpful and then I am going to come right back here."
Ginny nodded slowly, but her hands were still twisting in her lap.
"I know you aren't happy about this-" Percy began.
"Just find him, and I'll be happy."
"Ginny, Kingsley is in a very dangerous line of work, after all-"
"If you tell me that I ought to get used to losing people, I will hit you for real," she said sharply. Clearly, he'd hit a nerve. "You don't just get used to that, not if you have any kind of heart." She took a deep breath. "Maybe people do die, pointlessly and stupidly, but that doesn't mean we ought to pretend it doesn't matter! That doesn't mean we ought to sit around and talk about the greater good and act as though they never existed at all!"
Percy gaped at her. There was, obviously, more going on with his family than he was aware of.
"But you told me," he said slowly, "that everyone was all right, didn't you?"
Ginny looked up. "What? Oh, yes. Just ignore me. I just- There are things you don't know, Percy, and maybe it's better that you don't."
Another day he would have pressed the issue, but not just then. "Then we're agreed," he said instead, getting up and tucking his wand through his belt. "I'll go and check things out, and if I find anything-"
"If you find anything, owl for help right away," Ginny said. "Don't be a hero."
"I promise to take Hermes with me," he said. "I'll be very careful, and owl you when I find anything." He paused. "I've come this far, I might as well see the thing through to the end."
*
The trail led, rather predictably, to an abandoned warehouse in a bad part of town.
Kingsley, he'd discovered through the field reports, had been tracking the vampire they'd run into that first night in the alley. Apparently, there was a lot of suspicious vampire movement all over Europe, and more vampire sightings reported in England than there had been in around sixty years.
He would never have said so to Ginny, but he didn't think it very likely that Kingsley was still alive. Whether he found Kingsley or not, he wanted to find out what the vampires were up to. He felt very personally about this, though he wasn't sure if it was just because of Kingsley or also the fact that a vampire had very recently tried to eat him.
This was the last place Kingsley had gone before he disappeared. Percy didn't really expect to find anything, he hadn't found anything at the string of seedy bars and pawnshops he'd been to earlier. Yes, they remembered Kingsley (a fact which most of the patrons would only divulge after Percy bought a round of drinks or handed over a Galleon or two) but they didn't have much to offer beyond that. Percy didn't expect this place to be much different. But as long as there was a chance, Percy would keep looking.
He scribbled a note quickly and handed it over to the owl on his shoulder. He'd promised Ginny, after all. Not that there was much to tell her. This place looked completely deserted.
Hermes hooted worriedly, kneading Percy's wrist a shade too roughly with his talons.
"It' all right, Hermes," he said softly, stroking the bird's feathers. "I'll be all right. You just take this to Ginny. Go now."
The owl took flight and Percy pushed the door quietly open. He would just have a look around first, see if the vampires had left any clues behind. Perhaps there would be some sign of Kingsley as well, something that might indicate whether he was still alive or not.
All of which would have been a very good plan if the vampires hadn't still been there. One reached out and grabbed Percy by the throat. He squawked helplessly as it lifted him effortlessly off the ground.
"What have we here?" it said.
"A pureblood, by the smell of it," said a second vampire, leaning in and deftly taking away Percy's wand.
Percy couldn't see them very well. The warehouse was dimly lit and the lack of oxygen getting to his brain had begun to affect his vision.
"Don't kill it," the second vampire said. "It needs to breathe, after all."
The pressure on his throat eased, and the vampires dragged him deeper into the warehouse. He had the sense of other creatures around him, but they were nothing more than shadows in the gloom. They made little noise, milling around the edges of his vision in a silent crowd.
Percy had seen a Dementor once and thought it was the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. This was far worse.
The crowd parted for them, and they made their way to the front of a large room.
"What do you have for us tonight?" a low voice asked. "A child?"
"Its blood is pure," the first vampire said. "Untainted by mixing."
"Ah. Good," said yet another vampire, apparently the leader. "We will keep it. Put it with the other."
And they dragged him off again before he could even ask the leader to explain his master plan, since they were going to kill him anyway.
Well, all right, Percy thought. Plan B, then.
"Ah, excuse me," he said to the vampire that had hold of the back of his neck. "Why exactly are you going to kill me again?"
"We serve the Dark Lord," the vampire said.
"And you do that how, exactly? Does the Dark Lord have any big plans for you? Any special death and destruction coming up in the next few days?"
"We serve the Dark Lord," it said again, sounding a bit put out.
"That's, well... Good for you," Percy said. "Yay Dark Lord! Way to eat death! Um, sig heil? Ow."
One of the vampires cuffed him across the face. Another tied rough cords tightly around his wrists and ankles, then flung him through the door into a small, dark room.
"Ow," Percy said again.
"Tell me about it," Kingsley Shacklebolt said from the far corner.
As Percy's eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out Kingsley leaning against the opposite wall. He looked far worse for wear, but very definitely alive.
"You're alive!" Percy said unnecessarily.
"For the moment." Kingsley grinned a bit too widely. "Our friends out there decided I'd make a better henchman than an appetizer. From the looks of it, they decided the same about you."
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
"They're going to turn us." A pause. "Into vampires, like them."
"Absolutely not," Percy said, after a moment. "I categorically refuse. I've no desire to be a vampire."
"I don't think they were planning on giving us much choice in the matter, kid."
Kingsley took a deep breath. It seemed to hurt him to do so. Percy scooted over as close to him as he could get.
"Are you all right?"
"I took a few hits, but I've seen worse." He focused on Percy. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Ginny was worried. So I found out what case you'd been working on and followed up on your leads."
"You decided to search for me? Why didn't you just go to someone at the Ministry?"
"There was some... concern... about that, apparently. I was afraid of compromising whatever it is you've been working on.
"And so you decided to just waltz in here, all by yourself?" Kingsley asked, looking appalled. "What a brilliant plan!"
"I wasn't expecting to actually find you here!" Percy exclaimed defensively. "I was looking for clues!"
"Oh, clues," Kingsley said. "Well, nice going, Sam Spade."
"I hardly think there's any reason to get shirty with me," Percy said, sitting up as straight as he could without falling over. "I was only trying to help, after all."
Kingsley sighed. "I know you were, kid."
There was a long silence.
Then, Percy said, "They're really going to turn us into vampires?"
"That seems to be what they're after." Kingsley shook his head. "Just wish I knew why."
"I did try to get some answers out of them before they put me in here-"
"Not a talkative bunch, are they?"
"Not particularly." Percy's muscles were beginning to spasm. He tried to stretch out his legs to no avail. "I didn't get the impression that they were particularly, well, bright vampires, either."
"You think Voldemort could get the smart ones to follow him?" Kingsley laughed dryly. "Fat chance."
"What does he plan to do with them then?" A pause. "What does he plan to do with us?"
"Foot soldiers, I think. They seem real concerned about only turning purebloods. My guess is that's to swell the ranks."
"Expendable soldiers," Percy said, shaking his head.
"But only ones with a pedigree."
Percy was silent again for another long moment, slumping against the wall and staring blankly into the darkness.
"What is it?" Kingsley finally asked.
"I think I've just begun to panic."
"Don't worry. I have a plan," Kingsley said.
"Oh, thank God! I thought we were done for. What's your plan?"
"When they come to get us, we jump them, dust them and then run like hell."
"Not," Percy began carefully, "to criticize your plan, but there are certain logistic difficulties with it..."
"Like?"
"Like how we're going to get untied, for one thing." He sat up a little straighter. "And what exactly we're going to kill them with. I don't suppose they left your wand?"
Kingsley shook his head.
"Mine either," Percy said. "And there's nothing made of wood in here, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Well, I didn't say it was a good plan," Kingsley grumbled. "I haven't actually had any food or water for two days. Plus, there're the repeated blows to the head. I may not be thinking too clearly."
"Possibly not," Percy replied dryly.
"You got something better?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that today?" Percy snapped. "We'll think of something. We have to. Have you been able to discover anything about their plans?"
"They've got some big ceremony planned. Just before sunrise from what I could make out. A blood feast or a black mass, typical melodramatic vampire stuff." He smiled grimly. "Guess we're the main course, though."
"I've never been much for gallows humor," Percy said crisply.
"Why, oh why, am I not surprised?" Kingsley settled back against the wall. "Well, kid, we've got till dawn to come up with something to save our skins. So get thinking."
*
Just before dawn, however, the building caught fire.
"We are either the most spectacularly lucky bastards in the history of luck," Kingsley said, "or somebody's found us."
"I fail to see how being burned to death while bound hand and foot in a locked cupboard is lucky," said Percy, blinking hard against the smoky air.
"Would you rather burn to death or become a vampire?"
"Do you want my honest answer?"
Kingsley opened his mouth to retort, but just then the door blew open, showering the pair of them with metal shavings.
"It's clear!" a voice said from the doorway.
"It's Shacklebolt!" said another. "You lucky bastard."
Two men came forward and loosed the ropes binding them. Percy rubbed his wrists and tried to stand.
"Come on. We've got to get you out of here."
They hurried out of the storage room and into the corridor. It was utter chaos. Aurors ran along the hallway, shouting instructions to one another. Several piles of dust marked the cement floor where vampires had been. Percy's eyes were swimming with tears from the smoke and every breath burned his throat.
"Through here!" someone said.
"You keeping up, kid?" Kingsley turned back to look at Percy over his shoulder.
Percy just nodded and continued toward the double doors that led to the main warehouse. He made it, but in the confusion he lost sight of Kingsley and fumbled his way through the doorway alone.
The main room of the warehouse was full of smoke and bodies, some fighting, some running, more than a few turning to dust under the spells of the twenty or so Aurors who had just kicked the doors in and swarmed over the place.
A red flame streaked past Percy, narrowly missing his cheek, and slammed into a vampire that had been sneaking up on him from behind. It fell to its knees, then turned to ash.
Percy stepped hastily back… and nearly collided with a pair of large, angry vampires, one of whom appeared to have his and Kingsley's wands tucked in his belt.
"Hey!" Percy said, running after the pair without thinking. The only thought in his head was getting his wand back and getting the hell out of there.
They stopped, turning toward him in surprise.
Remembering what he'd seen Kingsley do against that first vampire, he ran up to the one with their wands at his belt and socked it in the face. Luckily, he had surprise on his side. The vampire stepped back, shocked, and Percy grabbed both wands. When it recovered and lunged at him, Percy skewered it neatly through the heart.
It collapsed into dust at his feet, and Percy stood there for a moment in disbelief.
"Nice work, kid!" Kingsley called from a few feet away, snapping Percy back to reality. "Now don't get cocky."
Percy barely had time to duck as the second vampire swung a large, meaty fist at him. He tripped and fell flat, knocking into a half-dozen cans stacked neatly against the wall. When he opened his eyes, he was at eye-level with the labels: blue paint, white paint, paint thinner. Percy reached out and grabbed for the can of paint thinner with his free hand, still holding his wand in the other.
The vampire hauled him to his feet.
"Incendio!" Percy cried, pointing his wand rather feebly at the huge vampire. The tiniest of orange flames took hold of the lapel of its impressively ugly jacket.
"You think that will do anything to me?" the vampire laughed, brushing lightly at the flame as though it were a minor annoyance.
"Perhaps not," Percy said. "But this might." He flung the contents of the canister of paint thinner at the vampire with all his might.
It let out a somewhat surprised 'oof,' popped, sizzled and disappeared.
"Everybody out!" someone called from behind Percy. "This place is going up!"
The flames had reached the ceiling by then, but luckily the main entrance remained clear. Kingsley jogged over, ash on his clothes and a fresh laceration across his chin, caught Percy by the arm and lugged him outside.
*
The warehouse went spectacularly up in flames, collapsing in on itself, sending burning ash into the pre-dawn sky.
Kingsley Shacklebolt felt like hell.
"I'm getting too old for this, Andy," he said, turning to one of his Auror colleagues.
"Bullshit," Andy said. "You're two years younger than I am."
"It's not the years, it's the mileage," they said at the same time, laughing at the old joke.
The mileage was starting to catch up with Kingsley these days. Three days in the tender, loving hands of a pureblood vampire cult aside, he was bone tired.
"Glad to see you're all right," Andy said. "Assuming, of course, that you don't burst into flames when the sun comes up."
"Oh, very funny." They'd tested both he and Percy with garlic, crosses and holy water before bothering to patch them up. If that didn't convince the Aurors they were still among the living, Kingsley didn't know what would.
"How did you find us, anyway?" he asked, stretching his sore shoulders. The vampires' ropes had burned red welts into his wrists.
"Got a tip," Andy said, checking his notes. "From a Miss A. Nonymous."
"Really," Kingsley said, making a mental note to have a chat with Ms. Nonymous just as soon as he got back to Grimmauld Place.
Speaking of which... Kingsley ambled (all right, he admitted to himself, hobbled) over to where Percy was being seen to by an emergency healer.
"How're you doing?" he asked.
The kid looked up; a bruise was blossoming vividly across his left cheek. "Every time we go somewhere, I end up bleeding."
"Sorry about that. It comes with the territory." Kingsley reached out and helped Percy to his feet. "You got a couple vampires in there, you know, and got 'em good."
"I did, didn't I?" Percy said, looking faintly amazed.
"How does it feel?"
"I feel like hell."
"Come on, Percy," Kingsley said, slapping the kid on the shoulder. "I'll buy you a drink."
Continued in Episode 3, Kings for July
Next time on Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter...
"Her name was Lola; she was a showgirl..."
It was very hot and bright under the lights; Percy began to sweat. The microphone felt slick in his hand. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't drop it. Not for the first time, he reflected that this had probably been a very bad idea. But, then, so was starving to death. He looked down at the nearest corner booth where the club manager was sitting with the demon talent agent.
The demon was frowning.
"Whoa, whoa." It- He held up a hand. "Hold on there, my little English crumpet."
Percy stuttered to a halt.
"I'm sorry?"
"There's a time and a place for Manilow... But, sweetie, it's just not you. Your aura is all over the place." At Percy's look, he said, "Trust me on this one. What you're feeling right now? I get it." He took a sip from his drink. "You're feeling lost, uncertain, far away from home -- and, believe me, I understand that last one. You've lost your direction; you need to find your path."
The demon smiled at him. Percy just nodded numbly.
"Try something a little closer to home. You know what I mean. Sing from the heart. You won't regret it."
Percy closed his eyes, willed himself not to think, and started to sing the very first thing that came to mind.
* A quick story note: Regarding Percy's wand... The laurel is traditionally associated with achievement or heroism, and in Victorian 'flower language' stood for ambition -- specifically 'heroic ambition'. A safat is a mythical bird that cannot stop flying and is never allowed to come to rest. And, yes, Kingsley's "Don't get cocky, kid!" line is a paraphrase of Han Solo. And "It's not the years, it's the mileage..." is quoted from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Kingsley strikes me as a closet movie buff.
Summary: It's the summer after OotP, and Percy Weasley is a man without a mission.
Episode 2, Mad Season
"Tell me, young Mr. Weasley. Why do you want to work for Ollivander's?"
It was stuffy in the office at the back of Ollivander's wand shop. The summer afternoon was hot; the leaded glass windows were sealed shut and the air full of dust. Percy fought the urge to tug at his collar.
"Well, sir, I've always had the greatest respect for Ollivander's as an institution of wizarding society."
"Have you?" Mr. Ollivander said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "I remember you, young Mr. Weasley. Laurel oak and safat feather, I believe, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir." A drop of sweat trickled down between Percy's shoulder blades and he suppressed a shiver.
Ollivander was still watching him, thoughtfully. "It takes a certain aptitude, Mr. Weasley, to fit the right wand to the right wizard. You could have it, I think. The question is whether you possess the passion -- the skill is useless without the passion."
Percy inhaled sharply, dust tickling his nose. "Is that so, sir?" he said, for want of anything more insightful.
"It is." Ollivander looked at him, a bit more shrewdly than made Percy strictly comfortable. "You have a lot of potential. That much has always been clear."
"Yes, sir?" Percy's nose itched insistently. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress the urge to swipe at it.
Ollivander nodded sagely, confirming something more to himself, it appeared, than to Percy. "I'll leave you to think it over. Sleep on it, perhaps."
Percy sneezed.
*
Some beautiful women, it had been Percy's experience, were best viewed from afar. Proximity showed up their flaws, their artifice, their shallowness. Getting too close ruined the illusion, revealed their beauty as brassy and false.
Celia Williams was not one of those women.
The more time he spent with her, the more he appreciated her. She was smart, sensible, savvy and, yes, very attractive. Even on a rainy Thursday night at home, in ratty, faded jeans and a t-shirt, she was lovely and she knew it. Unlike most beautiful women Percy had known, however, she didn't use that knowledge to her advantage.
Williams' flat reflected her personality: chic, understated, with just a hint of pragmatism; done in charcoals and blues, with surprising bits of color in unexpected places. Percy approved of it. It was the sort of place he would have chosen for himself if he'd had the money.
He hadn't been able to figure what, if anything, a woman like Celia Williams saw in him, but he'd never been particularly interested in looking gift horses in the mouth.
She'd lit a fire in the small, deco ceramic-tiled fireplace in the living room. It was really too hot for it, but Percy found the fire comforting. Rain drummed on the windowpanes and roof, the fire popped and sizzled as the occasional raindrop found its way down the chimney. He stretched out near the hearth and watched the flickering of the flames.
Williams had an antique LP player that worked with actual electricity. (Percy couldn't help thinking how intriguing his father would have found it, but quickly pushed the thought aside.) It was thrown open casually on the hardwood floor and plugged into the wall behind the fireplace. (The electrical wiring didn't always work, Williams had explained, because of magical interference and the fact that it was a very old building. But she took what she could get.) She also had an impressive record collection. Propping himself on one elbow, Percy combed through it, picking out artists he'd never heard of and asking her about them while she fixed them both drinks.
"Oh, put this one on," she said, taking one titled Time Out from his hands. "You'll like it. I guarantee."
Percy smiled. "You can predict what kind of music I'll like?"
"If you don't like Dave Brubeck, I'll throw you out onto the street."
"Ah," Percy replied, taking the record back and putting it gently onto the player. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of how to handle the tiny needle, but at least he didn't scratch anything when he lowered the arm.
Williams poured him a glass of port, then poured one for herself. "So, how goes the hunt?"
Percy groaned, accepting the glass. "Wretched."
She flung a pillow down beside him and flopped onto it, nearly upsetting her wineglass. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I had an interview today." He took a sip from his glass. "But, God help me, I don't want to sell wands for a living."
Williams frowned, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. "I don't blame you."
"I probably should take it. I need the money, after all."
"It can't be as desperate as all that. We've only been out of work a few weeks."
Percy sighed. "True, but I can't help worrying. Eventually my savings are going to run out. If I spend all my time looking for the perfect job..."
Williams smiled sympathetically. "You're right, of course. But that doesn't mean you ought to take the first thing that comes along, either. Especially if you know it isn't right for you."
"Oh, enough of my woes," Percy said, taking another drink. "Tell me about your new position."
She smiled, a little ruefully he thought. "There's not much to tell. It's a political consulting outfit. Not exactly as prestigious as the Minister of Magic's private staff, but not a bad place to land, considering…"
"Well, congratulations again." He raised his glass to hers. She leaned in and clinked it against his.
"Thanks, Weasley."
"Any time, Williams."
She sipped thoughtfully at her drink, propping her chin on one hand. "Don't get discouraged about searching for a job. I expect there's something really spectacular waiting for you out there. You just have to figure out what it is and make the most of it."
"You know, someone said something similar to me just the other day."
"Really?"
"It's a rather funny story, actually. I had to sing- and I just realized that the only reason that story is funny is if you're laughing at me, not with me, and there's no way I'm going to finish it now."
Williams laughed. "They made you sing at Waggley, too? I just about walked out of the office."
"What did you sing?" Percy asked curiously.
She glanced sidelong. "I'll never tell."
"Why ever not?"
"A girl likes to preserve a little mystery, you know." She paused. "Plus, you'd probably laugh."
"I would never!"
"You say that now, because you don't know what it is. How do you like the Dave Brubeck?" she asked, deftly changing the subject.
"Is there any answer I can give that would be safe?"
"Did I really frighten you? If you don't like it, you can say so. I'm not so formidable as all that."
Percy shook his head. "I do like it."
"How is-" she hesitated slightly, "everything else?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there was some talk. I mean, people said... things about your family."
"I don't know what you heard, but it was probably exaggerated."
"I heard that they disowned you over a political disagreement."
"All right, maybe not so exaggerated then..."
Her eyes widened a bit. "It's true? I thought- I guess I didn't think it possibly could be."
"There is," he admitted, "a bit more to it than simply that."
"But, still…" She shook her head. "My parents vote Labour exclusively, and they have yet to run me out of the family."
"Well, it's not as though the Labour party is in league with Voldemort."
She grinned. "I don't know about that."
"It's not just the politics. The wizarding community is so small. Everything one member of a family does affects every other member. It's nearly impossible to be your own person." He waited for Williams to say something, to stop him with some kindly-meant platitude, but she didn't. "Of course I love my family, I just can't-"
She sat up, leaning toward him. "I know, Weasley."
She was very close. He looked down. Her feet were bare, the toenails painted slate-blue -- the same color as her eyes.
"I should probably go," he said, standing up.
Williams raised an eyebrow. "Sure. I've got an early day anyway."
She stood as well, leaning in and taking the wineglass from Percy's hand. She looked up at him, watching him for a long moment, as though she was trying to figure him out. She moved a little closer and his breath caught in his throat.
"I ain't got nothin' but the blues," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"That's what I sang, for the career counselor. I Ain't Got Nothin' But the Blues."
She looked at him for a long moment, then began to laugh. "Really? How appropriate. Oh, poor, poor Weasley.”
"Well," he said. "You've laughed at me and I survived. How could your song possibly be worse?"
Williams took him by the arm and began to lead him toward the front door. "I'm not laughing at you. I just think it's so perfectly suited."
She opened the door and Percy paused. "Come on now. I've told you what I sang. It's only fair that you tell me yours."
"You'll have to be more persuasive than that, Weasley," she said with a wicked grin and shut the door behind him.
He was halfway home before it occurred to him to wonder exactly what she meant by that.
*
Ginny couldn't remember a summer as hot and oppressive as this one.
The house at Grimmauld Place smelled like dust and death, and Ginny just wanted out. They were living on top of each other, too many of them, with too many things that couldn't or wouldn't be said. Secrets hung in the air, like static electricity before a lightning storm. Doors were locked and shut, conversations came to abrupt halts whenever someone new walked into the room. There were whispers in the night that Ginny tried to convince herself were not ghosts or memories or monsters under the bed, but she wasn't always very successful.
She had thought when Hermione came to stay, about three weeks in to the summer holiday, that the tension might ease, but she was wrong. Ron and Hermione locked themselves away in an upstairs bedroom, saying little or nothing to anyone else in the house. At first, Ginny amused herself with the idea that they might be up to something naughty, then remembered who she was dealing with and discarded the notion as ridiculous. More than likely, they were up there obsessing about Harry - as usual.
So the house stayed quiet. The twins were gone. The adults crept in and out of the place like grim-faced shadows - except, of course, for Tonks and Kingsley, who were the only bright spots in Ginny's world that summer. Her mother didn't exactly approve, she knew, of either Tonks, who was clumsy and loud and made completely inappropriate jokes, or of Kingsley, who was good-looking, single, danger-prone and just young enough to be a credible threat to Ginny's virtue. (If her mother only knew…) But neither was around enough to really help. So Ginny cleaned and dusted and cooked and chopped and generally felt like a charwoman. Or Cinderella. If only Crookshanks would turn into a fairy godmother, or, better yet, a handsome prince.
If she didn't get out of there every once in a while, she was likely to scream out loud.
Not, of course, that anyone would let her go anywhere. Which was why, when the owl had come about Percy, addressed to Any Member of the Weasley Family, she'd jumped at the chance. Without Kingsley as an ally, of course, she'd never have gotten past the front door, but he seemed to have taken a liking to her, and to have taken some sort of bizarre pity on Percy -- not that Percy deserved it.
It was afternoon, a few weeks after they'd rescued Percy from The Welsh Green, and it was raining, dully and heavily, the rain not doing anything to disrupt the heat or the humidity. Crookshanks was curled up sleepily on the hearth, watching with one eye open while Ginny sliced up fruit for dinner. She stabbed viciously at an orange and wondered why none of the men in the house ever had to help out in the kitchen. Couldn't Ron help get dinner for once?
The kitchen door opened and Ginny swung around, knife still in hand, to tell whichever member of her family was entering the room to grab a knife and help out. She stopped short, dropping the knife, when she caught sight of who it actually was.
"Kingsley!" she said. "I didn't know you were going to be here tonight!"
"The call of duty," he grinned. "Besides, the food here is better."
"Due in large part to me. You owe me."
He came over behind her, leaned in and neatly snagged a slice of cheese from a plate on the counter. She swatted half-heartedly at his hand.
"Couldn't live without you," he said with a wink. "I'd starve to death." There was an extended pause while Kingsley ate three slices of Stilton in rapid succession, then grabbed another. "What are you up to tomorrow?" he asked, grabbing a piece of bread to go with the cheese.
"Why?" she asked absently, shredding a head of cabbage into a bowl.
"I thought we might pay another visit to our friend in Belgravia."
"Huh?"
"You know," Kingsley said significantly. "Our friend. The one who can't hold his whiskey."
"Who? Percy?" she said. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"
Kingsley threw up his hands and flung himself into a chair at the table. "I give up, you know." He grabbed a knife from the table and neatly skewered a piece fruit from the platter. "This is a crazy house, full of crazy people."
"Who's crazy?"
"The lot of you. I never know from one minute to the next how any of you are going to react. Last week it was 'Oh, my brother's such a wanker. Don't mention him in front of my mum'," he said, in a high, squeaky imitation of Ginny's voice.
Ginny frowned at him. "That's just petty, and I do not sound like that." She turned back to the stove. "Why do you want to see him, anyway? Sure, we helped him once but-"
Kingsley shook his head. "Ginny, do you really think that your family is doing him any favors by cutting him out completely?"
"He's the one who-"
"Doesn't matter," he cut her off abruptly. "That's how it starts, sure. He did this; they did that. But ten years from now, will it matter who did or said what? Will it matter two months from now?"
"But-"
"Do you trust me, kid?"
"Well," Ginny began hesitantly, "sure. Of course I trust you."
"Then you're just going to have to trust me on this, too. You won't regret it."
Ginny grinned. "You might."
Kingsley reached out a slightly sticky hand and mussed her hair. "Nah."
*
The next day wasn't any better. Hermione and Ron still weren't really talking to her, or anyone. Ginny didn't think they were doing it on purpose. They didn't even notice anyone else, and that actually made it worse. Her mother had an endless list of chores for her, as though keeping her busy would somehow keep her safe.
Kingsley came home at lunch, though, and Ginny brightened up considerably.
"I'm taking the afternoon," he said, relaxing at the table as Molly brought him a fresh cup of tea. "I thought we might go out, Ginny."
"Kingsley," her mother said warningly, "I'm not sure it's safe for Ginny to be wandering around outside."
Ginny sighed heavily. "It's broad daylight, Mum, and I just want to go for a walk. Or something. I'm going crazy stuck in here."
"It's all right, Molly," Kingsley said. "I'll be with her."
"Well," her mother said slowly, "I suppose it's all right, for a little while, as long as she's with you." She didn't look too excited about the prospect, but couldn't really refuse without insulting Kingsley. She'd been far more careful about that sort of thing, Ginny noticed, since Sirius died.
Ginny grabbed her bag, grabbed Kingsley by the hand and had them out the door before her mother could have second thoughts. They took a roundabout path to get to Percy's. Kingsley wandered expertly, seemingly aimlessly, in the direction of Percy's flat, trying to throw-off any would-be pursuers.
"Do you really think someone might follow us?" Ginny asked. Her feet hurt; the sandals she was wearing weren't exactly practical for hiking all over London.
Next time, she thought, I'll wear sensible shoes... Who am I kidding? No, I won't.
By the time they got there (and up several excruciatingly long flights of stairs), Ginny had three shiny, new blisters. Kingsley knocked on the door.
"It's open," Percy said weakly.
They pushed the door open and went inside. Percy was splayed on the sofa, his head on the rolled arm, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. A quill and parchment lay discarded on the side table.
"What are you up to, Percy?" Ginny asked.
"Slowly starving to death, if you must know," he said, not bothering to move.
"What's the matter with you?"
"I just turned down an offer of employment. It may be the single stupidest thing I've ever done."
"I doubt that," Ginny muttered, but quieted down when Kingsley yanked hard on a lock of her hair.
"What was the job?" Kingsley asked, taking a seat on the sofa beside Percy.
"With Ollivander's, selling wands."
Ginny made a face. "Well, no wonder you said no. Who wants to work in retail?"
Kingsley gave her a look, and she had the sense that if he'd been closer he might have yanked her hair out by the roots this time.
"You don't have to take the first thing that comes along, you know," Kingsley said, attempting to look wise. "It's not as though there's a shortage of work-"
"But I was sacked," Percy said. "Nobody will want to hire someone who's been sacked." He sat forward, putting his face in his hands. "I don't even know what it is I would like to be doing."
"There has to be something."
"Yes," Percy said, "there was. I wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic. I'd wanted it since I was a very small child."
"Well, you've gotta expand your horizons now. Nothing wrong with that." Kingsley patted him manfully on the shoulder. "You just have to figure out what you want, and go after it."
"I want a jam doughnut," Ginny offered helpfully. Kingsley looked appalled.
"That does sound good," Percy said, surprising them both. "There's a bakery around the corner, if you'd like."
So they went. Kingsley paid, a fact they all pretended to ignore. The doughnuts were fresh and hot, and the coffee better than average.
"Since when do you drink black coffee?" Percy asked her. "It will stunt your growth."
Ginny hooked her feet around the legs of her chair. "My growth is stunted anyway. I'm never going to be any taller than this, no matter what. Just look at Mum."
"How-" Percy flushed a delicate pink beneath his freckles. "How is she? How is... everyone?"
"Fine," Ginny lied, then immediately regretted it. "Well, mostly fine - as fine as they can be, considering."
"Ah."
Ginny went up to the counter and bought a second doughnut. When she came back to the table, she said, "Everybody's okay, though, Percy. They're worried, they're unhappy, but they're all right."
"Thank you, Ginny."
"Any time," she said, and smiled at her brother for the first time in what felt like years. "Now, pass the coffee pot."
*
On Saturday morning, Ginny wandered downstairs, a letter from Dean in one hand and four of the homemade molasses cookies she'd stolen from the kitchen the previous night in the other. She turned at the landing and nearly tripped over Ron and Hermione who were crouched there in the shadows, eavesdropping on the adults talking in the parlor.
"What the-" Ginny had to grab hold of the banister to keep from pitching forward down the stairs.
"Shh!!" both Ron and Hermione hissed at her.
"What is going on?" Ginny whispered, but they just waved at her to be quiet.
It couldn't be anything that important, Ginny thought. Not if the adults were talking about it right out here. Order meetings were always held behind closed doors, complete with secrecy spells and anti-eavesdropping charms.
"And Shacklebolt?" someone said from the parlor. Ginny started and leaned in closer to hear.
"He didn't check in last night..."
"Has anyone checked with the Ministry?"
"It's too soon. We can't without it looking too suspicious."
Ginny's blood turned to ice. She leaned her head against the wooden bars of the banister. Ron was looking sidelong at her, but she pretended not to notice.
It didn't work.
"What do you know about this, Gin?"
Hermione turned to look at her as well.
"Nothing," Ginny managed. "Not really."
Hermione gave her a look that said she didn't believe a word of it, and that nettled Ginny for some reason.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You two go ahead and keep all kinds of secrets from the rest of us, but let me do it and suddenly-"
"What are you talking about, Ginny?" Ron looked genuinely perplexed.
The door to the parlor opened then, and Hermione grabbed them both by the arms and dragged them back up the stairs, even further into the shadows.
"Keep your voice down, Ron," she said.
"What are you talking about?" he asked again, more quietly this time, turning back to Ginny.
"I'm talking about you two. All summer, all you've done is whisper and skulk around acting like you know things the rest of us don't!"
"We do not skulk!" Ron said.
"Ginny," Hermione began, in the maddeningly reasonable tone of voice she used with first years and house elves. "We're just worried about Harry. Surely you understand that?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. That's why it's so annoying."
"What do you mean?"
"Huh?" Ron added insightfully.
"I know I'm not as close to Harry as you are, but I still care what happens to him." At this, Ron began to look hopeful. Ginny pointedly ignored him. "And maybe I haven't fought as much evil as the three of you have, but I was there with all of you at the Ministry in June and- and Kingsley is my friend, damn it!" she said, appalled to discover that she was close to tears.
"Ginny," Hermione said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, Gin. I'm sure Dad and the others will be able to help Kingsley." He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "They know what they're doing."
"But you heard them," Ginny said. "They aren't going to help."
"Of course they will," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "They're the good guys."
Right, Ginny thought, they're the same good guys who let Dad get bitten by a giant snake. The same good guys who let Sirius get killed.
"Oh, this isn't helping anything!" she said, shaking both of them off and starting carefully down the stairs. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it before it was too late. She looked around the corner, first one way, then the other. The parlor door was closed again and there were muffled voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. The coast appeared, for the moment, to be clear. She made a run for it.
"Where are you going?" Ron whispered fiercely. "Ginny! Come back!"
"To help Kingsley! If the Order won't do it, I know someone who will!"
The last thing she heard before the front door clicked softly shut, was a hissed, "I'm telling Mum!"
*
Percy was in the middle of a very good Saturday afternoon nap, accompanied by very good dreams, dreams in which he was gainfully employed, well-fed, well-dressed and in love with a dark-haired girl who sang in the shower. So, he was understandably upset when someone woke him by banging repeatedly on his front door.
"Open the door, Percy!" his sister said from the hallway. "I know you're in there! You've got to be, you haven't anywhere else to go!"
"Didn't anyone," Percy said, standing up but not opening the door, "ever teach you that it's nearly impossible to catch flies with vinegar?"
"Open the door, you massive wanker!"
Percy opened the door. "If you've just come over to insult me, you needn't b-"
"Kingsley's gone," she interrupted, pushing her way into the flat.
"What?"
"You heard me. Gone. Vanished. Disappeared in the line of duty."
On closer inspection, Percy could see that Ginny was white to the lips. She sat, wringing her hands. "No one will do anything about it, either," she continued. "They're too afraid of drawing attention to him, for whatever good that will do if he's really in trouble-"
"Drawing attention to him?"
"Because of-" she stopped abruptly. "Well, never mind why."
"If you mean because he's one of Dumbledore's undercover agents within the Ministry, I already figured that out. Do give me some credit," Percy snapped.
"I just thought you could help," she said miserably, and Percy immediately felt guilty.
"Oh, Ginny," he said, sitting down beside her. She was huddled in on herself and he was reminded of her as a very small girl, with scraped knees or pulled pigtails. "I'll see what I can do."
*
It was still raining, sluggishly, making the afternoon long, grey and dreary. The heavy air clung to Percy's clothes and dampened his hair as he walked. He turned his collar up to keep out the rain. It mostly worked.
Michel's, more familiarly known as "Mike's," was a trendy, corner bar frequented by the younger generation of Ministry workers. It was not the place Percy would have chosen for a clandestine meeting. He was bound to see people he knew. But Luke had insisted they meet there, and Percy was hardly in a position to make demands. Once inside, though, he was pleasantly surprised. The bar was almost completely deserted. Apparently, Mike's wasn't as popular on the weekends as it was during weekday happy hour.
"Thanks for meeting me, Luke," Percy said, sliding into a corner booth that was conveniently hidden from both the door and the bar. "I appreciate it."
"How could I refuse?" Luke grinned. "This is the most excitement I've had in weeks." He pushed a drink across the table. "I ordered for you. Scotch and soda, right?"
"Thanks," Percy said, taking a drink.
"And then there's this." Luke handed over a thick roll of parchment, sealed with Ministry wax.
"What's this?"
"A copy of Shacklebolt's last field report. I'm not sure what help it will be but-"
Percy broke the seal and began to skim through it. "This is fantastic! How did you get your hands on it?"
Luke looked pleased with himself. "It took some doing, but I called in a few favors." He grinned. "Plus, now I have a date with one of the girls down in Files and Records. You know what they say about those Files and Records girls..."
"Way to take one for the team, Luke."
He grinned widely. "Any time, Perce, any time." He paused. "We miss you at the Ministry, you know. A lot of people think you, Williams and the others got a really raw deal."
"Thanks, I appreciate it."
"How is Williams, anyway?" he asked, a little too casually.
"Why would you ask me?" Percy responded carefully.
"Oh, come on, Weasley! We've all heard the scuttlebutt." He leaned over and punched Percy on the shoulder. "Good job, mate. She's absolutely corking."
"Ah, yes. Well," Percy said, floundering around for a way to change the subject, "thank you for the files. They will be very helpful."
"Why do you need to know all this, anyway?"
Percy paused. "Let's just say it's a family matter."
Luke's eyebrows rose just fractionally. "I see." He took a long drink from his pint. "You just have the one sister, right?"
"Yes. What does that have to do-" Percy's eyes widened as he got it. "I assure you, that isn't what this is about."
"Okay, okay," Luke said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You can hardly blame me, though. Shacklebolt does have a bit of a reputation."
Percy hadn't known that.
"Anyway," he said, trying to push any possible suspicions about Kingsley and Ginny out of his mind. (She had been awfully distraught about his disappearance, though. Hadn't she?) "I'd better get going. I don't want to run the risk of getting you into any trouble."
"I'm always in trouble," Luke said, shaking Percy's hand as he got up to leave. "We should all get together sometime, somewhere away from the Ministry's prying eyes."
"And where exactly would that be?" Percy said dryly.
Luke laughed. "I was thinking Majorca, or maybe Amsterdam."
"I doubt we'd be safe even there."
"Anyway, think about it. You and Williams, me, some of the old crowd from Hogwarts..."
"The girl from Files and Records?" Percy asked, grinning.
"Maybe. Ask me again after my date tonight."
"It sounds like a good time, Luke. We'll have to do it."
"Definitely. Good luck with whatever this thing is with Shacklebolt, by the way."
"Thanks," Percy said, tucking the parchment into his jacket and turning up his collar again. "I may need it."
*
"So I thought if I retraced his steps, following the field report from his last case, I'd have a good chance of finding out where he's gone," Percy finished, feeling rather proud of himself as he looked up at his little sister.
"No, no, no," Ginny said, practically bouncing on the balls of her small feet. "Definitely a bad idea."
"If you have any other suggestions, I'd love to hear them."
"Well, no," she said, moving to the stove and fiddling with the teapot to cover her anxiety. The gesture was so like their mother that Percy had to swallow hard.
He'd left Ginny at his flat all day, while he'd pounded the pavement and called in favors to get information about Kingsley, and had come home to three dozen freshly baked cookies, two pies and an alphabetized bookshelf. Compulsive housework, apparently, ran in the family.
"How else did you think I was going to help, Ginny? Why did you come if you didn't want me to try and find him?"
"I didn't- I didn't think, I guess." She collapsed into a chair. "I just wanted someone to do something. Now I'm not so sure that involving you was a good idea."
"I see," Percy said coldly.
"Well, it's not like you have any experience at this sort of thing. You might get yourself killed, or worse!"
"One might almost think you care what happens to me," he snapped.
And that was when she hit him.
Not hard, just enough of a smack to get his attention. "You moron," she said, thwapping him on the shoulder several more times for good measure. "No matter what you do; no matter how big an idiot you make of yourself, I would care if you died. We all would. How could you think anything else?"
"Ow," Percy said.
"Oh, shut up. That could not possibly have hurt."
"Ginny," he said, taking her by the shoulders and making her sit down at the table. "I am not going to do anything dangerous. I am going to go and look at the places Kingsley went before he disappeared. I am going to look around, hopefully find something helpful and then I am going to come right back here."
Ginny nodded slowly, but her hands were still twisting in her lap.
"I know you aren't happy about this-" Percy began.
"Just find him, and I'll be happy."
"Ginny, Kingsley is in a very dangerous line of work, after all-"
"If you tell me that I ought to get used to losing people, I will hit you for real," she said sharply. Clearly, he'd hit a nerve. "You don't just get used to that, not if you have any kind of heart." She took a deep breath. "Maybe people do die, pointlessly and stupidly, but that doesn't mean we ought to pretend it doesn't matter! That doesn't mean we ought to sit around and talk about the greater good and act as though they never existed at all!"
Percy gaped at her. There was, obviously, more going on with his family than he was aware of.
"But you told me," he said slowly, "that everyone was all right, didn't you?"
Ginny looked up. "What? Oh, yes. Just ignore me. I just- There are things you don't know, Percy, and maybe it's better that you don't."
Another day he would have pressed the issue, but not just then. "Then we're agreed," he said instead, getting up and tucking his wand through his belt. "I'll go and check things out, and if I find anything-"
"If you find anything, owl for help right away," Ginny said. "Don't be a hero."
"I promise to take Hermes with me," he said. "I'll be very careful, and owl you when I find anything." He paused. "I've come this far, I might as well see the thing through to the end."
*
The trail led, rather predictably, to an abandoned warehouse in a bad part of town.
Kingsley, he'd discovered through the field reports, had been tracking the vampire they'd run into that first night in the alley. Apparently, there was a lot of suspicious vampire movement all over Europe, and more vampire sightings reported in England than there had been in around sixty years.
He would never have said so to Ginny, but he didn't think it very likely that Kingsley was still alive. Whether he found Kingsley or not, he wanted to find out what the vampires were up to. He felt very personally about this, though he wasn't sure if it was just because of Kingsley or also the fact that a vampire had very recently tried to eat him.
This was the last place Kingsley had gone before he disappeared. Percy didn't really expect to find anything, he hadn't found anything at the string of seedy bars and pawnshops he'd been to earlier. Yes, they remembered Kingsley (a fact which most of the patrons would only divulge after Percy bought a round of drinks or handed over a Galleon or two) but they didn't have much to offer beyond that. Percy didn't expect this place to be much different. But as long as there was a chance, Percy would keep looking.
He scribbled a note quickly and handed it over to the owl on his shoulder. He'd promised Ginny, after all. Not that there was much to tell her. This place looked completely deserted.
Hermes hooted worriedly, kneading Percy's wrist a shade too roughly with his talons.
"It' all right, Hermes," he said softly, stroking the bird's feathers. "I'll be all right. You just take this to Ginny. Go now."
The owl took flight and Percy pushed the door quietly open. He would just have a look around first, see if the vampires had left any clues behind. Perhaps there would be some sign of Kingsley as well, something that might indicate whether he was still alive or not.
All of which would have been a very good plan if the vampires hadn't still been there. One reached out and grabbed Percy by the throat. He squawked helplessly as it lifted him effortlessly off the ground.
"What have we here?" it said.
"A pureblood, by the smell of it," said a second vampire, leaning in and deftly taking away Percy's wand.
Percy couldn't see them very well. The warehouse was dimly lit and the lack of oxygen getting to his brain had begun to affect his vision.
"Don't kill it," the second vampire said. "It needs to breathe, after all."
The pressure on his throat eased, and the vampires dragged him deeper into the warehouse. He had the sense of other creatures around him, but they were nothing more than shadows in the gloom. They made little noise, milling around the edges of his vision in a silent crowd.
Percy had seen a Dementor once and thought it was the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced. This was far worse.
The crowd parted for them, and they made their way to the front of a large room.
"What do you have for us tonight?" a low voice asked. "A child?"
"Its blood is pure," the first vampire said. "Untainted by mixing."
"Ah. Good," said yet another vampire, apparently the leader. "We will keep it. Put it with the other."
And they dragged him off again before he could even ask the leader to explain his master plan, since they were going to kill him anyway.
Well, all right, Percy thought. Plan B, then.
"Ah, excuse me," he said to the vampire that had hold of the back of his neck. "Why exactly are you going to kill me again?"
"We serve the Dark Lord," the vampire said.
"And you do that how, exactly? Does the Dark Lord have any big plans for you? Any special death and destruction coming up in the next few days?"
"We serve the Dark Lord," it said again, sounding a bit put out.
"That's, well... Good for you," Percy said. "Yay Dark Lord! Way to eat death! Um, sig heil? Ow."
One of the vampires cuffed him across the face. Another tied rough cords tightly around his wrists and ankles, then flung him through the door into a small, dark room.
"Ow," Percy said again.
"Tell me about it," Kingsley Shacklebolt said from the far corner.
As Percy's eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out Kingsley leaning against the opposite wall. He looked far worse for wear, but very definitely alive.
"You're alive!" Percy said unnecessarily.
"For the moment." Kingsley grinned a bit too widely. "Our friends out there decided I'd make a better henchman than an appetizer. From the looks of it, they decided the same about you."
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
"They're going to turn us." A pause. "Into vampires, like them."
"Absolutely not," Percy said, after a moment. "I categorically refuse. I've no desire to be a vampire."
"I don't think they were planning on giving us much choice in the matter, kid."
Kingsley took a deep breath. It seemed to hurt him to do so. Percy scooted over as close to him as he could get.
"Are you all right?"
"I took a few hits, but I've seen worse." He focused on Percy. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Ginny was worried. So I found out what case you'd been working on and followed up on your leads."
"You decided to search for me? Why didn't you just go to someone at the Ministry?"
"There was some... concern... about that, apparently. I was afraid of compromising whatever it is you've been working on.
"And so you decided to just waltz in here, all by yourself?" Kingsley asked, looking appalled. "What a brilliant plan!"
"I wasn't expecting to actually find you here!" Percy exclaimed defensively. "I was looking for clues!"
"Oh, clues," Kingsley said. "Well, nice going, Sam Spade."
"I hardly think there's any reason to get shirty with me," Percy said, sitting up as straight as he could without falling over. "I was only trying to help, after all."
Kingsley sighed. "I know you were, kid."
There was a long silence.
Then, Percy said, "They're really going to turn us into vampires?"
"That seems to be what they're after." Kingsley shook his head. "Just wish I knew why."
"I did try to get some answers out of them before they put me in here-"
"Not a talkative bunch, are they?"
"Not particularly." Percy's muscles were beginning to spasm. He tried to stretch out his legs to no avail. "I didn't get the impression that they were particularly, well, bright vampires, either."
"You think Voldemort could get the smart ones to follow him?" Kingsley laughed dryly. "Fat chance."
"What does he plan to do with them then?" A pause. "What does he plan to do with us?"
"Foot soldiers, I think. They seem real concerned about only turning purebloods. My guess is that's to swell the ranks."
"Expendable soldiers," Percy said, shaking his head.
"But only ones with a pedigree."
Percy was silent again for another long moment, slumping against the wall and staring blankly into the darkness.
"What is it?" Kingsley finally asked.
"I think I've just begun to panic."
"Don't worry. I have a plan," Kingsley said.
"Oh, thank God! I thought we were done for. What's your plan?"
"When they come to get us, we jump them, dust them and then run like hell."
"Not," Percy began carefully, "to criticize your plan, but there are certain logistic difficulties with it..."
"Like?"
"Like how we're going to get untied, for one thing." He sat up a little straighter. "And what exactly we're going to kill them with. I don't suppose they left your wand?"
Kingsley shook his head.
"Mine either," Percy said. "And there's nothing made of wood in here, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Well, I didn't say it was a good plan," Kingsley grumbled. "I haven't actually had any food or water for two days. Plus, there're the repeated blows to the head. I may not be thinking too clearly."
"Possibly not," Percy replied dryly.
"You got something better?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that today?" Percy snapped. "We'll think of something. We have to. Have you been able to discover anything about their plans?"
"They've got some big ceremony planned. Just before sunrise from what I could make out. A blood feast or a black mass, typical melodramatic vampire stuff." He smiled grimly. "Guess we're the main course, though."
"I've never been much for gallows humor," Percy said crisply.
"Why, oh why, am I not surprised?" Kingsley settled back against the wall. "Well, kid, we've got till dawn to come up with something to save our skins. So get thinking."
*
Just before dawn, however, the building caught fire.
"We are either the most spectacularly lucky bastards in the history of luck," Kingsley said, "or somebody's found us."
"I fail to see how being burned to death while bound hand and foot in a locked cupboard is lucky," said Percy, blinking hard against the smoky air.
"Would you rather burn to death or become a vampire?"
"Do you want my honest answer?"
Kingsley opened his mouth to retort, but just then the door blew open, showering the pair of them with metal shavings.
"It's clear!" a voice said from the doorway.
"It's Shacklebolt!" said another. "You lucky bastard."
Two men came forward and loosed the ropes binding them. Percy rubbed his wrists and tried to stand.
"Come on. We've got to get you out of here."
They hurried out of the storage room and into the corridor. It was utter chaos. Aurors ran along the hallway, shouting instructions to one another. Several piles of dust marked the cement floor where vampires had been. Percy's eyes were swimming with tears from the smoke and every breath burned his throat.
"Through here!" someone said.
"You keeping up, kid?" Kingsley turned back to look at Percy over his shoulder.
Percy just nodded and continued toward the double doors that led to the main warehouse. He made it, but in the confusion he lost sight of Kingsley and fumbled his way through the doorway alone.
The main room of the warehouse was full of smoke and bodies, some fighting, some running, more than a few turning to dust under the spells of the twenty or so Aurors who had just kicked the doors in and swarmed over the place.
A red flame streaked past Percy, narrowly missing his cheek, and slammed into a vampire that had been sneaking up on him from behind. It fell to its knees, then turned to ash.
Percy stepped hastily back… and nearly collided with a pair of large, angry vampires, one of whom appeared to have his and Kingsley's wands tucked in his belt.
"Hey!" Percy said, running after the pair without thinking. The only thought in his head was getting his wand back and getting the hell out of there.
They stopped, turning toward him in surprise.
Remembering what he'd seen Kingsley do against that first vampire, he ran up to the one with their wands at his belt and socked it in the face. Luckily, he had surprise on his side. The vampire stepped back, shocked, and Percy grabbed both wands. When it recovered and lunged at him, Percy skewered it neatly through the heart.
It collapsed into dust at his feet, and Percy stood there for a moment in disbelief.
"Nice work, kid!" Kingsley called from a few feet away, snapping Percy back to reality. "Now don't get cocky."
Percy barely had time to duck as the second vampire swung a large, meaty fist at him. He tripped and fell flat, knocking into a half-dozen cans stacked neatly against the wall. When he opened his eyes, he was at eye-level with the labels: blue paint, white paint, paint thinner. Percy reached out and grabbed for the can of paint thinner with his free hand, still holding his wand in the other.
The vampire hauled him to his feet.
"Incendio!" Percy cried, pointing his wand rather feebly at the huge vampire. The tiniest of orange flames took hold of the lapel of its impressively ugly jacket.
"You think that will do anything to me?" the vampire laughed, brushing lightly at the flame as though it were a minor annoyance.
"Perhaps not," Percy said. "But this might." He flung the contents of the canister of paint thinner at the vampire with all his might.
It let out a somewhat surprised 'oof,' popped, sizzled and disappeared.
"Everybody out!" someone called from behind Percy. "This place is going up!"
The flames had reached the ceiling by then, but luckily the main entrance remained clear. Kingsley jogged over, ash on his clothes and a fresh laceration across his chin, caught Percy by the arm and lugged him outside.
*
The warehouse went spectacularly up in flames, collapsing in on itself, sending burning ash into the pre-dawn sky.
Kingsley Shacklebolt felt like hell.
"I'm getting too old for this, Andy," he said, turning to one of his Auror colleagues.
"Bullshit," Andy said. "You're two years younger than I am."
"It's not the years, it's the mileage," they said at the same time, laughing at the old joke.
The mileage was starting to catch up with Kingsley these days. Three days in the tender, loving hands of a pureblood vampire cult aside, he was bone tired.
"Glad to see you're all right," Andy said. "Assuming, of course, that you don't burst into flames when the sun comes up."
"Oh, very funny." They'd tested both he and Percy with garlic, crosses and holy water before bothering to patch them up. If that didn't convince the Aurors they were still among the living, Kingsley didn't know what would.
"How did you find us, anyway?" he asked, stretching his sore shoulders. The vampires' ropes had burned red welts into his wrists.
"Got a tip," Andy said, checking his notes. "From a Miss A. Nonymous."
"Really," Kingsley said, making a mental note to have a chat with Ms. Nonymous just as soon as he got back to Grimmauld Place.
Speaking of which... Kingsley ambled (all right, he admitted to himself, hobbled) over to where Percy was being seen to by an emergency healer.
"How're you doing?" he asked.
The kid looked up; a bruise was blossoming vividly across his left cheek. "Every time we go somewhere, I end up bleeding."
"Sorry about that. It comes with the territory." Kingsley reached out and helped Percy to his feet. "You got a couple vampires in there, you know, and got 'em good."
"I did, didn't I?" Percy said, looking faintly amazed.
"How does it feel?"
"I feel like hell."
"Come on, Percy," Kingsley said, slapping the kid on the shoulder. "I'll buy you a drink."
Continued in Episode 3, Kings for July
Next time on Percy Weasley: Rogue Demon Hunter...
"Her name was Lola; she was a showgirl..."
It was very hot and bright under the lights; Percy began to sweat. The microphone felt slick in his hand. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't drop it. Not for the first time, he reflected that this had probably been a very bad idea. But, then, so was starving to death. He looked down at the nearest corner booth where the club manager was sitting with the demon talent agent.
The demon was frowning.
"Whoa, whoa." It- He held up a hand. "Hold on there, my little English crumpet."
Percy stuttered to a halt.
"I'm sorry?"
"There's a time and a place for Manilow... But, sweetie, it's just not you. Your aura is all over the place." At Percy's look, he said, "Trust me on this one. What you're feeling right now? I get it." He took a sip from his drink. "You're feeling lost, uncertain, far away from home -- and, believe me, I understand that last one. You've lost your direction; you need to find your path."
The demon smiled at him. Percy just nodded numbly.
"Try something a little closer to home. You know what I mean. Sing from the heart. You won't regret it."
Percy closed his eyes, willed himself not to think, and started to sing the very first thing that came to mind.
* A quick story note: Regarding Percy's wand... The laurel is traditionally associated with achievement or heroism, and in Victorian 'flower language' stood for ambition -- specifically 'heroic ambition'. A safat is a mythical bird that cannot stop flying and is never allowed to come to rest. And, yes, Kingsley's "Don't get cocky, kid!" line is a paraphrase of Han Solo. And "It's not the years, it's the mileage..." is quoted from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Kingsley strikes me as a closet movie buff.