Chapter: 7. Weasley Through and Through
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/R for dark situations
Summary: AU. Voldemort won the war many years ago, and this year's Summer Games features a traitor from their midst.
Other links: Found at OWL
He waited for the right moment. It was always about the precisely right moment, and when it came to precision, you could count on Percy Weasley to come through. Last minute or not, this would happen.
The flames crept forward without sound and with very little heat. It was barely noticeable at first, in fact; Percy could only find the signs of it because he knew where it was supposed to be. He could see a faint flicker from where his box seat was, but today’s inane companion, the flighty Cynthia Wickham, saw nothing, her entire attention focused on the drama playing itself almost predictably out in the maze below.
Safely behind her, Percy let his lip curl in disgust. Perfect hair and perfect body, but she repelled him. What he wouldn’t give to have that hair replaced with a ragged, dirty cut, the body with one that carried too much worry and too many scars.
If today went to plan, he’d be seeing Hermione again, one way or another.
The roar of the minotaur as it started closing in on its prey was met with a discordant descant of shrieks as the witches and wizards in the stands suddenly started realizing that their seats, the arena, was on fire, and it wasn’t a fire that could be put out with a wand.
Good job, Blaise, he thought as he saw how effectively the exits had been cut off. The variant of Greek Fire that Percy had painstakingly invented was working better than he’d predicted.
Voldemort’s anger pulsed through the mark on Percy’s arm, and he saw others clutch at theirs. Cynthia whirled as she finally realized what was going on, only to run into his chest. “We have to get out of here!” she yelled at him.
Percy only smiled, a chilling expression, especially as the scar that bisected the left side of his face twisted slightly. “After you,” he said, stepping away from the entrance, leaving her to run into the flames already creeping inward.
There were already freedom fighters on the lawn in front of the hedge, casting hexes and curses with almost as little concern as the Death Eaters. He looked out, spotting the contenders in the maze approaching, miraculously, the exit. The minotaur wasn’t far behind, though. There wasn’t much time.
The redhead withdrew a device from his pocket. The oval fit into his hand snugly, and a finger slipped through the pin. He walked to the front of the box, looking out at the chaos and then up to the Dark Lord’s prime seats. Amazingly, Voldemort’s head swung around and red eyes met his, almost succeeding in pinning him in place. Almost.
“Muggle this,” Percy said, knowing it would be inaudible at this distance but also knowing the Dark Lord would understand what he’d said. He tugged and the pin fell away from the grenade, and he launched it directly into the box. He paused just long enough to see it land, see the Dark Lord realize from the top of his mind what it was, before he swung a leg over the side of his box and jumped down onto the healthy green grass to join Hermione in the fight.
A/N: We're creeping up on the end. I hope y'all are still enjoying this!