Chapter Text
THE ULTIMATE BETRAYAL
Chapter 1: The Ultimate Encounter
Chapter Picspam Created by me: RoxiMalfoy
Friday, May 29, 1998
Ministry of Magic - 6:00 PM
Percy Weasley sat at his desk in the Minister's outer office, his quill poised over a stack of correspondence memos that seemed to replenish themselves with each passing hour. Outside of his door, he could hear the usual chaos. Hurried footsteps, raised voices, and even the occasional crack of Apparition—despite regulations clearly prohibiting it within Ministry walls. People still insisted on doing whatever they wanted, and the rules, it seemed, were inconsequential these days.
He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and returned his attention to the parchment before him. Another request for additional Auror protection. Another family begging for their missing son to be prioritized in the search efforts. Another desperate plea that would likely be filed away, unanswered, because there simply were not enough resources to go around anymore.
Two years... It had been nearly two years now since the Ministry had finally, publicly acknowledged that You-Know-Who had returned. Two years of watching the wizarding world tear itself apart while those in power scrambled for solutions that never seemed to come.
Percy had made his choice early on about where he stood in the war. When his family had pressed him to become more involved with the Order of the Phoenix, to attend their meetings regularly, to commit himself fully to their cause, he had tried. After Dumbledore's death, when the loss had brought the family closer together in shared grief, Percy genuinely tried to bridge the gap that had formed during his years of estrangement.
He attended precisely three Order meetings before he knew that it was not for him. Three meetings where he'd watched his brothers and their friends discuss breaking into the Ministry, circumventing established laws, and operating entirely outside of any legitimate authority. Three meetings in which all his suggestions for working within the system, for pursuing the proper channels, for following the actual procedures had been met with dismissive looks. They had patronized him with their condemning explanations about how "this is war, Percy" and "sometimes rules have to be bent."
Bent... As if what they were doing was merely bending the rules, rather than shattering them entirely. That final meeting had ended in a heated argument with Ron, who had accused Percy of caring more about his “precious regulations” than about actually helping them to fight You-Know-Who. Percy had left after that, and he hadn’t been back, declining every invitation since.
He was still technically a member, he supposed. His mother had insisted on it when she'd inducted him, as though Order membership were some sort of family tradition to be passed down. But he had made it very clear that he would no longer be attending their meetings, would not participate in their vigilante activities, and wouldn’t compromise his position at the Ministry by associating with their organization any longer.
His father still tried, on occasion. But Percy had become quite adept at avoiding Arthur Weasley in the Ministry corridors, timing his movements to ensure that they did not cross paths. The few times they’d happened to speak in the past year had been strained, professional exchanges that had left Percy feeling hollow. But it was necessary, as every conversation with his father inevitably turned into another recruitment attempt, another plea for him to try and see things from the Order's perspective.
Percy could not afford to be swayed. He had chosen his path, and it was the right one. The Ministry, for all its current struggles, represented legitimate authority. Structure. Order. The very foundations of civilized society. Even if that society was currently crumbling down around them.
"Weasley!"
Percy's head snapped up as Minister Scrimgeour's voice bellowed from the inner office. He rose quickly, smoothing his robes and gathering the most urgent files from his desk.
"Yes, Minister?" He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him.
Rufus Scrimgeour stood behind his massive desk, his mane of hair seeming more gray than Percy remembered it to be. The Minister looked exhausted, the lines around his eyes deeper than they had been even a month ago. A map of Britain covered most of the desk, marked with dozens of red pins indicating Death Eater attacks.
"The Carrow report," Scrimgeour said without hesitation. "Has it been verified yet?"
"I sent it over to Magical Law Enforcement this morning, sir. Thicknesse confirmed receipt and said that he would review it personally by the end of the day."
Scrimgeour merely grunted in response, neither approval nor disapproval. "And the Wizengamot session?"
"It had to be postponed again. Three members sent word that they were ill." Percy paused, hesitating for a moment. "Though I suspect at least one of those absences is less about illness and more about their fear of being seen at the Ministry."
"Of course it is." Scrimgeour sank into his chair, suddenly looking older than his years. "Everyone's afraid these days. Can't say I blame them, but it does make governing nearly impossible."
Percy was unsure whether a response was expected of him, so he remained silent. These moments had become more frequent lately; the Minister often thinking out loud, treating Percy less like an assistant and more like an actual confidant. It should have been flattering. It should have made him feel valued. But instead, he felt more like a sponge, being used to absorb the Minister's doubts and frustrations. Only to then be wrung out and dismissed whenever any actual decisions needed to be made.
"That will be all, Weasley," Scrimgeour said, waving a hand in dismissal.
Percy returned to his desk, his jaw tight. He had been at work for over eleven hours already. Filing Ministry reports, answering correspondence, managing schedules, putting out fires. And what did he have to show for it? A title that apparently meant absolutely nothing. Junior Adviser to the Minister of Magic sounded impressive enough. Until you realized that you were little more than a glorified secretary.
Percy had done everything right. Followed every rule. Maintained perfect records. Yet he was still waiting to be seen. He'd worked so hard and followed every single protocol. Had even remained loyal when so many others had fled to safer positions. And he still remained overlooked, always underestimated by his peers.
That Weasley boy who cares more about rules than people, as he’d heard one official mutter in the lift last week.
Which had been almost the exact same thing that Ron had accused him of. Different wording, but the sentiment remained the same nonetheless. And that was, perhaps, what stung Percy the most. The fact that even here—even within the Ministry, where he had staked everything—he was still seen as lesser than. Still being constantly dismissed. Still waiting for someone, anyone, to recognize that his dedication meant something.
"Long day?"
Percy looked up to find Pius Thicknesse standing in his doorway. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement carried himself with a kind of confidence that Percy envied. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and an undeniable air of authority. Whenever Pius Thicknesse spoke, people listened.
"They all are, lately," Percy replied, setting down his quill. "I was just finishing up."
"Excellent timing, then." Pius stepped into the office, glancing back over his shoulder to ensure they were alone before closing the door. "I've been wanting to speak with you about something, Weasley."
Percy's interest piqued at once. For the past several weeks, Pius had been seeking him out more often. At first, it was just over simple things. Exchanging pleasantries, commenting on Percy's thorough reports, or praising his organizational skills. But then actual conversations had started to develop, and he found himself discussing the numerous Ministry inefficiencies with the department head.
They also discussed the war on occasion and what real leadership should look like. And for the first time in what felt like years, someone in a position of actual authority was taking him seriously. Treating Percy like an equal, rather than an errand boy or a disappointment.
"Of course," Percy said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "What's on your mind, sir?"
Pius sat, but there was a tension in his posture that Percy hadn't noticed before. He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "I have been impressed by your work lately. Your dedication to order and proper procedure, especially in these chaotic times... The Ministry needs more people like you."
"Thank you, sir. I do my best to—"
"Which is why I think you might be interested in something I have recently become involved with." Pius paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "A group of like-minded individuals who share our concerns about the current state of affairs. People who understand that what this world needs is not more chaos, but proper structure. Real order."
Percy straightened in his chair. "What kind of group?"
"It's nothing official, you understand. More of an organization dedicated to discussing solutions to our current crisis, as well as strategizing ways to restore stability and efficiency to the Ministry." Pius was watching Percy's reaction very carefully. "We meet regularly to discuss potential solutions, share information, and to better prepare ourselves for what comes next."
"What comes next?" Percy echoed.
"The Ministry cannot continue as it is, Weasley. You know that as well as I do,” said Pius. “Scrimgeour is losing control. The Wizengamot is paralyzed by fear. The Death Eaters operate with impunity while we scramble to respond... Something has to change."
Percy found himself nodding along. Everything Pius was saying was true. As much as he hated to admit it, the Ministry was failing. He saw it more and more every day. The inefficiencies, the chaos, the lack of any coherent strategy. And the Order's approach was no better, running around breaking laws and playing vigilante while calling it heroism.
"This group you mentioned," Percy said slowly. "What exactly do they propose?"
“That’s precisely what we discuss at our meetings. We all share different perspectives and alternate solutions." Pius leaned back in his chair, his expression neutral but his eyes no less intense. "I think you would find it worthwhile, Weasley. And I believe that they would find your input valuable as well. A fresh perspective from someone who works directly with the Minister."
Percy felt a small spark of validation ignite in his chest at Pius’s words of recognition. The possibility that his ideas, his work, might actually matter to someone. Someone of importance, at that.
"When do you meet with them?" he heard himself ask.
Pius smiled. "Tonight, as it so happens. I know you'd be welcome… If you are interested, that is."
Percy glanced at the stack of unfinished paperwork on his desk, then at the closed door to the Minister's office. How many more years would he spend filing reports and managing schedules, hoping that someone might eventually notice his competency? How long until he had any real influence, any real power to make any of the changes the Ministry so desperately needed?
"Where is it at?" Percy asked.
Friday, May 29, 1998
Knockturn Alley - 9:00 PM
Percy was surprised to discover that the address Pius had given him led to Knockturn Alley. He stood at the mouth of the shadowy street, his wand hand instinctively moving to his pocket. He had expected this meeting to be somewhere more reputable. A private room at the Ministry, perhaps, or even a secure location in Diagon Alley.
But Knockturn Alley?
Still, Pius Thicknesse was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. A man of unquestionable credentials and a very clear dedication to order. If he said that this particular location was necessary for discretion, then Percy had to trust his judgment.
He pulled his traveling cloak tighter and made his way down the narrow street, past shops selling all kinds of suspicious artifacts and ingredients that he was quite sure were illegal. The pub Pius had specified was tucked between a shop advertising "Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent" and another whose front window was too grimy to even see through.
Percy checked the address one more time, confirming it was the correct location, then carefully pushed the door open.
The pub's interior was dimly lit, thick with smoke and the smell of stale butterbeer. A handful of patrons sat hunched over their drinks, not even bothering to look up as Percy entered. At the far back of the room, he spotted a group gathered around a large table. And there, standing to welcome him as Percy approached, was Pius Thicknesse.
"Weasley, over here!" Pius greeted him warmly, as though they had run into each other at a Ministry function rather than a questionable pub in Knockturn Alley. "I’m pleased to see you could make it. Come, let me introduce you to some of my colleagues."
Percy moved through the pub, hyper-aware of all the eyes that were now tracking his movement. The group at the table consisted of perhaps a dozen witches and wizards, all dressed in nondescript robes. No one wore any Ministry identification. No one looked particularly familiar, though Percy was sure he might’ve seen one or two faces in passing at the Ministry.
"Gentlemen, this is Percy Weasley, Junior Adviser to the Minister of Magic," Pius announced. "Weasley, these are a few of our other fellow concerned citizens who share in the desire for a more orderly and structured society."
Percy’s introduction was met with several murmured greetings as he took the empty seat next to Pius, his unease growing but his curiosity stronger. What exactly was this group? What did they all stand for? What were they—
The room suddenly fell silent.
Every person at the table rose to their feet as one, startling Percy back out of his seat as he scrambled to follow suit. His heart pounded as he followed their gazes to a hooded figure who had entered from the back room, moving with an eerie grace that made the temperature in the room drop.
Percy's mouth went dry. His hands trembled as the figure reached the head of the table and slowly, deliberately, pulled back his hood. Red eyes. Pale, serpentine features. A face that should not exist, too alien to be fully human...
Lord Voldemort was standing before them.
Percy's vision blurred at the edges. This could not be happening. This could not be real. He had walked into a Death Eater meeting. Pius Thicknesse—Head of Magical Law Enforcement—had led him directly to You-Know-Who himself.
He needed to run. He needed to escape. He needed to—
"You may be seated," Voldemort said, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable command.
Everyone sat. Including Percy, after a moment of frozen panic. His mind was already racing through the possibilities.
Could he flee? No, he would be killed before he ever reached the door. Could he fight? The thought of that was laughable. Could he signal for help? Not hardly. After all, who would he signal to? The Ministry officials gathered around him, who clearly included Death Eater sympathizers? His family in the Order of the Phoenix, whom he hadn’t spoken to properly in nearly a year?
There was nothing he could do but sit there and hope that he survived the next hour.
"Welcome," Voldemort said, his gaze sweeping across the assembled group. Those red eyes lingered on Percy for a heartbeat longer than the others, and Percy had to fight not to look away. "Some of you are here for the first time, I see. How very appropriate, as tonight I wish to speak to you all about beginnings."
Voldemort's voice carried through the pub with an unnatural clarity, as though the very air bent to ensure that his words reached every ear. Percy sat frozen in his chair, hands gripping the edge of the table to keep them from shaking visibly.
"Beginnings…" Voldemort repeated, his serpentine features twisting into something that might have been a smile. "The beginning of a new order. The beginning of true power reclaimed. The beginning of a world governed not by the cowardly, but by those with the vision and strength to truly shape our future."
Percy's breath became shallow. He knew that he shouldn’t be listening to this. He should be looking for an escape route, planning how best to report this location to the Aurors, thinking of anything but the words being spoken. But Voldemort's voice had a strange magnetism to it and, despite every instinct screaming at him to look away, Percy found his attention being drawn inexorably forward.
"Take a look around you," Voldemort continued, gesturing to the assembled group as a whole. "Each of you comes from different backgrounds, different positions within our society. Some of you work within the Ministry, others in private enterprise, and still others in academia. All the various walks of magical life are represented here tonight, yet you all share something fundamental… You have recognized that our world is broken."
Several heads nodded. Percy kept himself still, but even he could not deny the truth of those words. The wizarding world was broken. He saw the evidence of this first-hand every single day.
"The Ministry of Magic..." Percy couldn’t help but pick up on the way that Voldemort spoke the title with such disdain as he continued. "Once a pillar of our society, it is now a crumbling monument to bureaucratic failure. Under Scrimgeour's leadership, if one can call it that, the Ministry jumps from crisis to crisis with no real strategy, no clear vision... And why? Because Rufus Scrimgeour is not a leader. He is a politician who plays at being a warrior, making grand pronouncements while accomplishing nothing of any real significance."
Percy's jaw tightened. He wanted to object, to try and defend the Minister. He knew how hard Rufus had been working to ensure everyone’s safety, and how much of a daily struggle the war truly was. But even still, the words would not come. Because somewhere deep inside himself, Percy knew that Voldemort wasn’t entirely wrong...
After all, how many times had Percy himself witnessed Scrimgeour make promises that he could not keep, or announce initiatives that went nowhere, or even project confidence that fooled no one?
"The Wizengamot cowers in fear," Voldemort went on, and his tone was almost conversational now. "Half of its members refuse to attend sessions, too afraid to even be seen at the Ministry. Those who do attend spend more time covering their own positions than making any actual decisions. It is nothing more than paralysis masquerading as democracy."
That was an uncomfortably accurate assessment. Percy had drafted enough rescheduling memos to know exactly how dysfunctional the Wizengamot had become.
"And then there’s the matter of the Order of the Phoenix." Voldemort's voice hardened. "Albus Dumbledore's group of vigilantes, who believe themselves to be above the law, simply because they’ve decided that their cause is the most righteous. They operate in secret, answerable to no one. They break into the Ministry to steal information. They conduct unauthorized raids. They claim to fight for the greater good, but what they’re truly fighting for is chaos. They would see to the destruction of any legitimate authority that does not bow to their vision."
Percy felt something twist in his chest. This was exactly what he had tried to explain to his family during that final meeting. The Order's methods were dangerous, their disregard for law and procedure fundamentally destabilizing. They undermined the very institutions that held their society together, all while claiming some moral superiority.
"So all we are left with is two failing forces," Voldemort said. "An incompetent Ministry that cannot protect its people, and a vigilante organization that seeks to replace legitimate government with mob rule. And between the two of them, our magical society is tearing itself apart."
The room was utterly silent now, every person sat transfixed, even those who had heard this speech before. Percy’s mind was reeling. He should not be agreeing with any of this. This was You-Know-Who, the darkest wizard of the age, responsible for countless deaths. And yet... Everything he was saying resonated with the exact same objections that Percy had been harboring for years.
"I seek to offer you an alternative," Voldemort continued, and now his voice carried a note of something that sounded almost seductive. "Not destruction, but reconstruction. Not chaos, but order. True order, that is built on a foundation of proficiency, rather than politics. One that is based on merit, rather than connections."
The Dark Lord began to pace slowly along the head of the table, his hands clasped behind his back. He spoke like a professor delivering a lecture. "While it is true that the Ministry of Magic is corrupt, that isn’t because the people within it are inherently corrupt. But rather, it is because the system rewards all the wrong things. They give loyalty to the wrong people and choose family connections over ability. And they consistently choose political maneuvering over any actual efficacy.”
Voldemort paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in. Around the table, Percy saw several heads nodding as the speech landed with varying degrees of impact. A witch to Percy's left shifted forward in her seat, her expression intent. Even Pius, who must have heard all this before, was watching the Dark Lord with unwavering focus. He realized with uncomfortable certainty that everyone in this room had probably felt exactly what Voldemort was describing.
The frustration. The helplessness. The burning resentment of being overlooked despite one’s own competence…
“After all, how many of you have watched less talented wizards be promoted above you, simply because they had the right surname? Or because they knew the right people?” asked Voldemort. “Or perhaps they were more willing to play the political games necessary in order to advance?"
Percy's grip on the table tightened even further as every word that Voldemort spoke hit home with an uncomfortable precision.
"I do not demand blind obedience," Voldemort said, his voice lowering slightly as he turned back to face them. "I am simply asking for intellectual commitment. In my organization, your worth is determined by your abilities, your dedication, and the results you achieve. Here, we have structure and rules in place. Strict rules, with even stricter consequences for those who break them." He paused, letting that sink in. "But within that structure, your effectiveness is rewarded. Loyalty is recognized, and hard work actually matters."
Something in the core of Percy’s being responded to these words with a hungry ache... Recognition. Reward. The possibility of mattering... These were all things that his heart had secretly desired for as long as he could remember.
"Many have labeled me a Dark Lord." Voldemort's tone turned almost amused. "But I prefer the title of Architect, as I am working to build what the Ministry cannot. I wish to create a system that actually works. One that rewards those who deserve it, and does not waste talent or potential because someone's politics are inconvenient or their methods too direct. We do not hide in the shadows plotting destruction, as those in power now would have you believe. Rather, we are planning reconstruction. So when the Ministry inevitably falls, we will be ready to replace it with something better. Something that functions.”
He stopped pacing, his red eyes sweeping across the group once more. “And when that time comes, we will need administrators. Not just warriors, but people who understand how institutions operate. People who value structure and order and can implement both effectively."
Percy caught himself leaning forward slightly, unable to look away despite himself.
"Consider, for a moment, our current crisis," Voldemort continued. "Death Eaters attack, and what does the Ministry do? It reacts... Always reacting, never anticipating. They have no long-term strategy. No definite plan. They’re just scrambling to address each incident as it occurs while the public loses faith in their own government with each passing day."
That was precisely what Percy had been thinking earlier. Precise execution of exactly what frustrated him most about his work.
"And the Order?" Voldemort's lip curled. "They rush in with their noble intentions and their complete disregard for consequences. They break into the Ministry in an attempt to steal prophecies, and thirty-seven people die in the resulting battle. They raid suspected Death Eater locations without proper intelligence, and innocents get caught in the crossfire. Yet they sleep well at night because they all believe their cause to be just."
Percy thought of Ron's face during that final Order meeting he had attended, so certain of his righteousness, so dismissive of Percy's concerns about proper procedure.
"I am not asking you to abandon your morals," Voldemort said softly. "I am asking you to recognize reality. The Ministry cannot win this war. The Order cannot govern. What comes next will be determined by who is prepared to act decisively when the moment arrives."
He leaned forward, hands bracing against the table, his voice dropping to something almost intimate. "Our world stands at a crossroads... Down one path lies this continued chaos and the slow collapse of every institution that gives shape to our society. Down the other lies order and stability. A chance to rebuild something that functions according to rational principles.”
Voldemort straightened, his expression cooling once more into something more distant. “I do not expect you to embrace my vision immediately, however. I expect you to think on it. To make your own observations. And to recognize that what I offer is not darkness, but clarity."
"We will prevail,” Voldemort said, speaking with even greater confidence. “Make no mistake; the Ministry will fall. Be it through conquest or by its own incompetence. The only question is where you would like to be standing when that time inevitably comes... Will you be among the victors, helping us to build something better for the magical world? Or will you stand among the defeated, clinging to a broken system simply because it is familiar?”
He paused, letting the question hang in the air for a moment before continuing.
"I do not require your answer tonight,” he stated with a tone of finality. “You have all heard what I am offering. All I ask is that you consider it. Discuss it among yourselves. And when you are ready, when you understand what is truly at stake in this war, then we will speak again."
Voldemort's gaze settled on Percy for a beat too long before he finally concluded, nodding once more to the group as a whole before sweeping from the room. The tension in the pub did not ease with his departure. If anything, it intensified as everyone sat frozen, processing what they had just heard.
Percy sat motionless, his mind churning as he too tried to process all that had just transpired. Everything Voldemort had spoken about was logical. Reasonable, even. He found it hard to believe that You-Know-Who had not ranted about blood purity or threatened violence, not even once. Instead, he had spoken like a true administrator. A real leader who could identify systemic problems and propose actual solutions for them. He spoke like someone who actually understood exactly what Percy had been thinking about for years.
And yet... There was still a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded a lot like his father, quiet but persistent, reminding him of everything he had grown up believing about this man. About what He-Who-Must-Be-Named truly stood for. His family had been fighting against this very same organization for decades now. Percy had been quick to dismiss his family's involvement with the Order of the Phoenix as reckless and naive, but he had never once doubted that their fear of Voldemort was genuine.
So why, then, did none of that fear seem to be reaching him now? Was it because tonight had genuinely surprised him, or simply because he wanted so badly to be convinced it was all true? Percy could not find a satisfying answer to that, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
"So," Pius said quietly beside him. "What did you think?"
Percy opened his mouth, then closed it again. What could he possibly say? That You-Know-Who had just articulated every frustration Percy had been harboring about both the Ministry and the Order? That the darkest wizard of the age had somehow made more sense than anyone Percy had listened to in months?
"I..." Percy swallowed hard. "I think I need some time to think."
"Of course." Pius nodded, apparently satisfied with that response. "That is exactly what you should do. Think about what you heard tonight. Think about what you have seen in your work at the Ministry. Think about what kind of world you want to help build."
Percy looked around at the others at the table. They were beginning to talk among themselves now, voices low and urgent. Some looked shaken, as Percy felt. Others looked energized, even excited.
Percy had come here expecting to discuss Ministry reform. Instead, he had just sat through a recruitment speech from Lord Voldemort himself. And the most disturbing part was not that he had been terrified. It was that he had been convinced.
Percy barely heard the conversations happening around him. His mind kept replaying Voldemort's words, turning them over and examining them from every angle like a particularly complex piece of legislation.
Your worth is determined by your abilities, your dedication, your results. Competence is rewarded. Loyalty is recognized. Hard work actually matters. Everything that he had been desperate to hear from someone, anyone, for years. And it had come from the mouth of the most dangerous wizard alive.
"I know it is a lot to process," Pius said, his voice cutting through Percy's spiraling thoughts. "Especially the first time. Believe me, I felt much the same when I attended my first meeting."
Percy turned to look at him. "How long have you been..." He could not quite bring himself to finish the sentence. How long have you been a Death Eater? The words felt too large, too final to speak aloud. Especially not to a Department Head like Pius.
"Involved in the organization?" Pius supplied with a knowing look. "I’ve been here for several months now. And before you ask, the answer is no. I have not taken on the Mark just yet." He held up his left forearm as if to prove it, though Percy could see nothing through the fabric of his robes. "The Dark Lord does not demand immediate commitment from any of us. He understands that true loyalty cannot be forced. It must be earned on both sides."
That should not have been reassuring, but somehow it was. The idea that this was not an all-or-nothing proposition, that there was room to think, time to consider, and choose, almost brought Percy some relief.
Except… Was there really a choice in the matter at all? Percy had just sat through a Death Eater meeting. He knew where they gathered; he’d seen Voldemort himself. Would they simply let him walk away with that knowledge and still live?
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Pius leaned closer. "I know what you are thinking, Weasley. You are wondering if you are in danger now, whether you can leave here safely." He paused. "The truth is, the Dark Lord could have Obliviated you the moment you walked through that door. He could have placed you under Imperius and used you as an unknowing puppet. But he did neither of those things. Do you know why?"
Percy shook his head mutely.
"Because he sees potential in you, boy. Real potential. The Weasley name carries weight in the magical community, whether you want it to or not. Your family's reputation, your position at the Ministry, your access to information." Pius's eyes gleamed. "The Dark Lord does not want a mindless servant. He wants an intelligent ally who chooses to join us of his own free will."
"And if I should choose not to do that?" Percy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Pius's expression turned sympathetic. "Then you’ll leave here tonight with your memory intact and no further obligation to continue. You’ll go home and think about what you’ve heard, and you’ll make your decision, one way or the other. No threats. No coercion." He paused for a moment, then added, "Though I would be lying if I said I was not hopeful. You are exactly the kind of person we need, Percy. Someone who understands systems, who values order, who has been overlooked and underestimated despite clear competence."
There was that word again. Competence. As though Pius could see every slight Percy had endured, every time he had been dismissed or ignored, every moment of being treated as less than he was worth.
"I want you to know that I believe you could be great for this organization, though," Pius continued, echoing words he had spoken earlier. "Men with your skills tend to rise very quickly here, and you are a man of great stature, Percy Weasley. You follow regulations and have always respected proper procedure. You understand that rules were not meant to be broken, and that we need order in the world."
Percy found himself nodding before he could stop himself. Everything Pius was saying resonated with his core beliefs, his fundamental understanding of how their society should function.
"I believe the Dark Lord can restore balance to our world," Pius went on, his voice earnest. "I mean, take a good look at everything that’s been happening lately. The magical world is in chaos. But this New Order that he wishes to create will bring us peace and restoration...”
Pius paused, gauging Percy's reaction. When Percy did not immediately object or pull away, he pressed on with renewed confidence. “Think about it,” he continued. “You and I, we can both be on the winning side of this war if we side with him now. Scrimgeour's days in office are numbered; we both know that. Soon enough, the Dark Lord will gain full control over the Ministry. And when that time comes, he will need people like us to run it. People who know the true ways of the Ministry inside and out."
"True..." Percy heard himself say. The word came out before he could think better of it. "Yes, you are right. I suppose he would need..." He trailed off, the implications of what he was agreeing to suddenly hitting him.
"Exactly," Pius said, satisfaction clear in his tone. "Tonight was just an introductory meeting, you know. The majority of the people you see sitting around this table right now are people just like you. New recruits with questions. They came here seeking answers, wanting to know what they could do to be on the winning side of this war. The Dark Lord welcomes them all gladly, for he never turns away anyone offering to serve him. But only a select few will be invited into his inner circle. He only accepts the best of the best for that."
Percy's mind whirled. Inner circle. The best of the best. After years of being treated as mediocre, as merely adequate, the idea of being recognized as exceptional was quite intoxicating. And Percy knew that he was exceptional, after all. He had always known it, even when no one else had bothered to notice. Especially when compared to his other siblings.
Bill had his charm, Charlie had his bravado, and the twins had their endless parade of admirers who laughed at their every word. Ron was best mates with the famous Harry Potter, and Ginny was his parent’s golden girl. None of them had ever sat down and truly worked for anything the way that Percy had done. He had studied, he had sacrificed, and he had climbed further than any of them had ever seen fit to try. Yet somehow, he had always been the one dismissed, the one overlooked, the one considered to be the least remarkable Weasley in the room.
But the inner circle of the most powerful wizard alive was certainly not a place for the unremarkable. And Voldemort, it seemed, understood that far better than his own family ever had.
"I see," Percy said slowly, trying to process everything. Percy had always wanted power and respect from his peers. And if Voldemort really was going to take over the Ministry, as Pius seemed quite certain he would, then maybe it was time to reevaluate where he stood.
Percy himself had chosen to side with the Ministry over the Order, believing it the path of law and order. But if the Ministry was truly on the brink of collapse, if Scrimgeour was as ineffective as he seemed...
"I can see you still need more time to think about all of this," Pius said, stating the obvious. "No one is going to force you into making up your mind right now, Weasley. You should definitely take some time to consider it. You can always come back here next week, once you’ve had more time to think about your options. After all, this is a lifelong commitment. Becoming a Death Eater is not a decision that should ever be taken lightly. I’ve seen some who rushed into it, and they didn’t get very far. Only those who truly desire greatness and want to achieve their maximum potential will ever make it in this organization. You would do well to remember that."
"Well, I certainly do appreciate your input, Pius," Percy said, his voice coming out quieter than he’d intended. He could still feel his unease growing by the minute, but Percy hoped that wasn’t as visible as it felt. "You have given me a lot to think about tonight."
"So no hard feelings about the cover-up then?" Pius asked, holding out his right hand. "I know I may have deceived you about what this meeting would actually be. But I do hope you understand why, Weasley. You needed to hear the Dark Lord speak for yourself, without any prejudgments coloring your interpretation."
Percy hesitated for just a moment before shaking Pius's outstretched hand. "No, I suppose not. Though I admit that this was not at all what I was expecting when you invited me here to discuss Ministry reform."
Pius smiled, seemingly relieved. "So what did you truly think of it then? I have been eager to hear your thoughts."
"Honestly..." Percy bit his lower lip, considering how best to answer. "I hate to admit it, but I guess he did raise some pretty valuable points. I mean, the Ministry in its current state is already corrupt, there is no doubt about that."
"Aye," Pius nodded in agreement. "We have needed a change in the way that things are being run around here for quite some time now."
"Based on what I just heard, I really do believe that this New World Order he wants to create could be beneficial for all parties involved," Percy stated, the words coming more easily now. "You-Know-Who may not exactly be going about getting his viewpoints across in the most civilized of ways. But his methods are certainly effective, I will give him that."
The two of them continued talking, their voices low and urgent as they examined the speech they had just heard. Percy found himself defending positions that he would have found repulsive earlier that morning, justifying perspectives in which he’d been raised to reject. But Pius made it all sound so reasonable, so practical... So right.
They were so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them noticed the stout man approaching until he was directly behind Percy's chair. "Percy Weasley," a voice announced.
Percy's heart skipped a beat as he spun around quickly, fear coursing through him. Was it someone from the Ministry? Someone who would recognize him and report his presence here? But the man standing there wasn't anyone from the Ministry; Percy was certain of that much. Still, there was something about him that made the hair on Percy’s arms stand up.
The man was short in stature and balding, with a weak chin and watery eyes that seemed to blink too rapidly. He had a peculiar way of hunching his shoulders, and his nose moved in a sharp, repetitive twitch. He looked familiar in a nagging way that Percy couldn’t quite place. But still, there was something about him...
"I am sorry," Percy said nervously. "Have we met?"
"Who I am to you is of little importance, honestly," the man said with an oily smile. "All that should matter to you right now is the reason I am here." He paused, clearly waiting for Percy to ask for further clarification.
When the silence stretched uncomfortably, Percy finally obliged. "And that would be because... why, exactly?"
The man's smile widened, revealing teeth that looked far too large for his mouth. "I was sent here to inform you that the Master would like to speak with you. He wishes to have a private word before you go."
The words gripped Percy like ice water... The Master. Voldemort wanted to speak with him. Privately.
Every instinct screamed at him to refuse, to make some excuse, to get out of this pub as quickly as possible and never look back. But he could feel Pius watching him. He could sense the attention of others at nearby tables turning their way. And beneath the terror, beneath the screaming voice of self-preservation, he also felt something else...
Curiosity.
Why would Voldemort single him out, specifically? What could the Dark Lord possibly want to discuss with a junior Ministry adviser?
Percy looked at Pius, hoping for some guidance or reassurance, but Pius merely nodded encouragingly, almost as though this were a perfectly normal occurrence. But then again, Percy supposed that perhaps for him, this was all ordinary.
"Very well," Percy heard himself say. His voice sounded distant, as though it had disconnected from his body. "Please lead the way."
He rose from his chair on unsteady legs. The stout man turned without another word, clearly expecting Percy to follow. Percy shot one last look at Pius, who gave him an encouraging smile and a slight wave. Then Percy followed the stranger deeper into the pub, toward a door at the back that he hadn’t noticed before. Each step felt weighted, as though he were walking through deep water. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he was certain that everyone could hear it.
The man opened the door and gestured for Percy to enter. He stepped through into a small private room, barely larger than a closet. A single candle provided weak illumination, casting dancing shadows on the walls. And there, standing before a grimy window that looked out onto the alley beyond, was Lord Voldemort.
The door clicked shut behind Percy, and he suddenly found himself alone with the Dark Lord. He had no idea whether he would be able to leave this room alive.