Silence slammed down on the kitchen like a physical blow. Molly gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Arthur's face paled with disbelief. Even the younger siblings, who hadn't fully understood the depth of the conversation, froze in stunned silence.
"What did you just say?" Arthur's voice was low, tight with barely restrained anger. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, his eyes blazing.
"I merely stated an observation," Percy said, his voice cold and precise, as though he could distance himself from the words he had just said. "To thrive in a world that values competence and influence, one must seize opportunity. Some here… appear content with complacency."
Molly's face crumpled. Arthur's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The warmth of the kitchen, the laughter, the sense of belonging—all of it evaporated in an instant.
"You've lost perspective, Percy," Arthur said finally, his voice rising with controlled anger. "This isn't ambition. It's cruelty, blind pride, and a failure to see the value of what we have. Love, loyalty, mutual support… things you seem to have forgotten in pursuit of… what? The Ministry's favor?"
Percy's throat tightened, but he maintained the expression of wounded integrity, the mask Dumbledore had demanded. The lie he had to live. "Are you questioning my integrity, my loyalty, and my judgment? I strive to uphold standards far beyond what has become comfortable for this household, and yet you reduce my efforts to petty calculations of family versus ambition?"
Arthur's lips pressed thin. His face was pale, strained. "Percy, this is not about reducing anything. We care about you! We only want you safe, wise, and thoughtful—not blind to consequences."
"Perhaps," Percy said sharply, the words biting in his mouth, "if others displayed even a fraction of ambition, we would not be so… limited, so dependent on chance and the indulgence of others."