Chapter 1
The trial had been quite short, to Percy’s relief. There was only so much of his mother’s sobs he could bear. His wasn’t a particularly anticipated one; the public and the Wizengamot had been focused on the large Malfoy trials that had happened a week earlier. As he was led into the room, he tried not to think of Draco Malfoy, a child his little brother’s age, who had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. Merlin knew what they would decide for him, a grown man, well past the newly reached majority of Draco Malfoy.
His hand was shaking as he reached the center of the tribunal. Percy could almost feel his family’s presence to his left, in the front row. He kept his gaze fixated on the floor. When Kingsley spoke, Percy barely even heard him. He did not need to, he realised with a shudder, he had witnessed enough trials from his time as a court scribe that he knew the procedure by heart.
“We are gathered here today, on the fifth of November, for the trial of Percival Igniatus Weasley. The charges against the accused are as follows.” The Minister cleared his throat. “That he, willingly and possessing full knowledge of his actions, provided registers of Muggle-Born witches and wizards to the corrupted former Minister for Magic, Mr Pius Thicknesse and, thus, to Voldemort himself. That he signed documents allowing Death Eaters and Ministry-appointed persons to use the Cruciatus curse on Muggle-Born witches and wizards for whatever reason they should seem fit. That he assisted several of his colleagues in the Ministry of Magic in destroying evidence of their complicity in the crimes committed by the former government in the aftermath of what is commonly known as the Battle of Hogwarts. Mr Weasley, do you deny any of these charges?”
It would’ve been useless to tell them he hadn’t known. At best, they wouldn’t believe him, and, at worst, they would think him an utterly stupid man. They would be right, of course, because how could he not have realised? “No.” He muttered, and he hated how small his voice sounded. He hadn’t felt like this in years, like a child getting yelled at. In the end, he figured, all those years of fake responsibilities and pompous, proud behaviour amounted to nothing, and he was still back in that position.
“Mr Weasley, please speak up.” And Percy might’ve broken down here and there. He swallowed his pride and his bitterness and his self-hatred and spoke again, louder this time. “No, I do not deny them.” Still looking down, he had to physically fight the urge to glance at his mother, whose gasp at her son’s admission had teared his ear apart. “Is it true you casted the Cruciatus curse yourself, onto the late Archibald Sparrew?” Percy’s throat tightened. “Yes.” He squirmed. “Why did you do it, Mr Weasley?”
Kingsley’s voice was stern. He didn’t need to look up to understand the hatred every person in that room had for him. “I…” He cursed under his breath, feeling his sweaty hands starting to shake harder. “Sparrew was in charge of the interrogations.” Percy’s voice quivered. “He believed I had helped a group of Muggle-Borns escape the country, and…” His eyes closed on their own. Percy would’ve given anything not to have to tell this story; all of it was still too fresh, too painful. “He thought I would confess doing so if he brought in someone I knew. Penelope Clearwater.” The bitter, yet beautiful taste of blood came flooding in, and Percy guessed he must’ve bitten his tongue a bit too hard. “He tortured her before my eyes, and…” He trailed off, desperately trying not to let any tears fall.
It all became useless. “May the witness come forward.” Kingsley ordered. Percy caught a glimpse of blonde hair on his right and looked up, gaping in disbelief. There she stood. Penny was wearing a black, muggle suit. She licked her upper lip briefly. “Miss, please state your full name.” Her gaze remained focused on the Minister, not sparing Percy, his family or any member of the Wizengamot a glance. “Penelope Emilia Clearwater.” She announced, not faltering in the slightest. “Do you swear to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, as you are obligated by law before this court?”
“Yes.” “Very well, Miss Clearwater. What happened on August the twentieth, of the year nineteen ninety-seven?” Then, Penny finally eyed Percy. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, and he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He took his head in his hands, rubbing his face. Looking at Penny was too much to bear. Too painful. “I had been arrested by Death Eaters for the crime of being Muggle-Born.” She started her testimony. “After a week of residing in a Ministry detention-cell, I was brought in an interrogation room. I immediately noticed Percy was handcuffed to a chair. He, erm, had numerous bruises on his face. Dried blood under his nose, and such. There was a man…” It took a few moments for Penny to speak again. Percy could empathise with the painfulness of having to recount the events of that day. “Not much of a man, really. He kept asking Percy questions, about helping Muggle-Borns. I could tell he honestly didn’t know a thing. Then…then the man started threatening me. I don’t even know how many, or what spells he casted on me. I only know I have never hurt as much as I did that day.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I thought I was going to die.” “Miss Clearwater, what did Percival Weasley do, while you were being tortured?” Kingsley, whose tone had grown extremely gentle, asked. Penny met Percy’s eye and didn’t look away.
“He begged for him to stop. Told him I didn’t have anything to do with it. Then…he crucio’ed the man. I remember that, despite the pain, I was impressed that he had managed to do it wandless. After that, I was put back into my cell and released a day later. I never learnt the reason why.” She was still looking at Percy. Expectantly, almost as if she wanted him to provide that reason. That turned out to be a wish she shared with Kingsley. “Mr Weasley, what happened afterwards?”
He blinked a couple times at the unpleasant reminder he was the one being judged. “I…Sparrew was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I knew that, from...” He had to stop himself from glancing over at his father and settled on his shoes. “From the early days of the war, when I lived with my family. When Thicknesse…that is, Pius Thicknesse, I’m sorry. When he confronted me about cursing a Ministry official, I told him about Sparrew’s loyalties. He was killed and the whole affair was silenced.” “And why was Miss Clearwater spared? I assume, to silence the affair, no one in the Ministry would’ve hesitated to kill a Muggle-Born witch.” Kingsley’s voice had taken back its harsh edge.
“I did it. I set her free.” At that, whispering spread among the Wizengamot. It was cut short by Percy’s next announcement.
“I only did it because she was my friend.” He didn’t know what had made him say it. It wouldn’t help his case in the slightest; if anything, it would worsen it. Even Penny was flabbergasted, Percy didn’t need to see her to know. He could feel it. He could easily picture her slightly open mouth, her half-shocked, half-disappointed frown, the tinge of sadness in her eyes and the bittersweet joy of being called a friend, after all that had happened. “I think we’ve heard all we needed to know.” Kingsley’s tone was low and held a light anger. “Mr Weasley, do you have anything else you wish to tell the court, another witness to call, before the jury comes to a decision?”
He could’ve apologised. Could have begged for a light sentence, could have argued he went to the Battle of Hogwarts after everything, and that that had to count for something, he could have done a plethora of things. Then again, he could have never betrayed his family in the first place. “No.” Percy softly replied.
For the first time, he looked at his family. As he’d expected, they were all here. Well, all expect Fred, he noted with a tinge of guilt. Even George sat there, his arms crossed, glaring at him, along with Ron. Ginny was looking down, visibly flustered. Charlie met his gaze and offered him a reassuring smile, mouthing ‘It’ll be okay.’ Bill had an arm around his mum, whispering to her. She was the only one that was crying. Percy’s father was the palest he’d ever seen him. The skin below his eyes was a deep red, and he looked as though he’d been through hell and back.
Percy didn’t know how long he had stared at his family. He only knew that what that had finally made him break free from his daze was Kingsley’s harsh voice. “The Wizengamot has deliberated and reached an agreement. It has found Percival Igniatus Weasley guilty of all charges he was accused of, and thus has sentenced him to eleven years of emprisonment in the high-security prison of Azkaban.” He confirmed the news by a hit of the small hammer, but Percy barely heard it. His head was buzzing. Azkaban?
Someone cried out. His mum, perhaps. He didn’t know and, frankly, it was all the same.
Eleven years in Azkaban. He was only twenty-two years old.