Christmas Sparks

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"Merry Christmas, Mother" Percy said, with the faint expression as if someone was holding waste under his nose. Mum, being so enthusiastic to see the son who had disowned his family, rushed over, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. You could cut the tension with a knife, as Fred, George, Bill and Dad all stood, guards raised and glaring at Percy. 

"I am here for official Ministry business, with the Minister himself. He should be arriving shortly." Mum froze mid-hug and backed off, taking her seat back at the table with a deep sadness etched onto her face. Avoiding looking at Percy, I sat staring through the window when I heard a pop, a pop which could only be associated with apparition. The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had just apparated into the garden of the Burrow. 

Knocking on the door brought his arrival to the attention of everyone in the room, who had been staring at Percy as if under a trance but the connection was broken as he rushed over to open the door. It was as if he thought he was home. But he wasn't, not anymore. I know I shouldn't pick favourites but I have to say that Percy was always my least favourite sibling, and that is saying something as I have a lot of brothers. 

It all started when we moved to Grimmauld Place last year. Percy and Dad had a huge row, one that could have only had a sour ending. Basically, Percy thought that Dad should be more ambitious instead of dragging the Weasley name into the dirt. Like Percy knew anything about family, the fact that he had turned up here, on Christmas no less, screamed insensitivity. The fight soon came to a conclusion, though not a happy one and Percy left. Without looking back. 

The reason for this particular visit was in fact about Harry. The Minister apologised for the timing of his visit, which to me was very patronising. In all honesty, couldn't this wait until we were, you know, not in the middle of our Christmas dinner. He took Harry outside, however I wouldn't settle for that. Mumbling excuses I rushed up the stairs and grabbed an extendable ear from a hidden draw in my room. I didn't want Mum to find my secret stash of Wheezes products. 

Sticking it out of my open window, I slowly lowered it to a height where I could hear what was being said below. 

"....all these whispers of a prophecy..... of you being the "Chosen One"...." I could tell even without being able to see clearly, that Scrimgeour was waiting for Harry to respond, however once he realised Harry was in fact not going to, he continued, ".....I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"

Of course, how couldn't I have guessed it? The Minister was sure to be keeping tabs on both Harry and Professor Dumbledore given all that happened at the Ministry of Magic last year, but I know the prophecy got destroyed. I can not say however, that part of me was not interested in what it said, but then again, it's none of my business. Neither was it for that matter, the Ministers. If I was in Harry's situation right now I would not trust the Ministry with one single Sickle. I just hoped that, with the most miniscule chance that Harry did know something, he didn't tell him. 

"Yeah, we've discussed it." 

"Have you, have you......."  said Scrimgeour, I could hear the excitement and anticipation in his voice, the child waiting to be given chocolate. "And what has Dumbledore told you, Harry?"

I held my breath. 

"Sorry, but that's between us," Harry replied. 

"Of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge..... no, no..... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are the chosen one or not?" 

Now they had completely lost me, and it seemed that Harry had too as he hesitated a while before responding. 

"I'm not really sure what you mean, Minister"

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