Percy's hands clenched tighter around the armrests of the chair, his knuckles turning white. The corridors of the Ministry, the scrutiny of officials, the fine line between ambition and subterfuge—he imagined it all, overwhelming but also strangely clear. Every time he would have to look Fudge in the eye, every time he would have to swallow his moral compass and nod in agreement with policies he didn't believe in—it made his skin crawl.
Could he do this? Could he be the kind of person who hid secrets, betrayed his colleagues, and still maintained the same façade of being a loyal servant? Would he even be able to live with himself afterward?
"I… I understand, sir," he said, his voice trembling but firm, as though he were trying to convince himself as much as Dumbledore. "I accept. "
Dumbledore's expression softened then, a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes, But before Percy could relax, the Professor spoke again, his voice low, measured, like he was delivering one last piece of advice, something crucial.
"There is one condition, Percy," Dumbledore said quietly. "A very important one."
Percy's stomach tightened again, the fear rising in his throat. He had expected danger, but not this. "Condition?" he asked, his voice almost hoarse. What more could there possibly be? He was already agreeing to become a double agent, a spy, a betrayer of everything he'd worked for. What other price could there be?
Dumbledore met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. "You must sever all ties with your family," he said softly. "To protect them—and to protect the mission—you cannot be seen as still close to your family. You must cut them off entirely."
Percy's heart seemed to stop. Sever all ties with his family? His stomach turned over, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. The warmth of the Burrow, the noise of his siblings bickering, his mother's soft hands making tea, the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen—all those little moments that made him feel like he had a place in the world, like he belonged somewhere—suddenly, they felt so far away. Gone.
He could almost hear his mother's voice in his head, scolding him about forgetting to write, asking him how he was doing, telling him to come home for a visit, and now, all of that was being ripped away. To keep them safe, to keep them out of harm's way, he would have to turn his back on them.
Percy swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He was doing this for them, to protect them. He had to remind himself of that, but the pain of cutting himself off from his family—the family that had always been there for him, even when they didn't understand him—was unbearable.
"How— how will I avoid my dad?" Percy asked. "He works at the ministry too."