The sound of cursebreaking was often one of metal on metal, as a coin falling on a metal counter, or a key just missing the lock and stabbing at the doorknob instead. It was to a barrage of faint "tink"s that Percy woke, much as he'd fallen asleep, five or so meters from the impenetrable wall of dust. Hundreds of witches and wizards jetted light from their wands toward the dark cloud; all they knew was that somewhere underneath this thick grimy shield was the school most had called home. It was painful to see the Hogwarts grounds now, covered in ash, being choked of life. Ten meters away his father, looking frail and exhausted, battered his wand against the dust cloud, chipping away at the curse that surrounded his youngest children. The light had long since gone out of his eyes.

* * *

Percy'd been at the Ministry when the news came in, preparing yet another report for the Department for International Magical Cooperation -- this one on the regulation of Cushioning Charms for racing brooms. Some of the more unscrupulous manufacturers had been given to using shoddy charms, causing the brooms' riders no end of chafed thighs, dizziness, and slippage, and Percy was determined to see that British brooms, and those imported by Britain, were of the highest quality. He turned his attention to the paragraph where he had left off the previous afternoon:

"In light of the serious and potentially harmful effects of charms of misapplied nature or shoddy workmanship, the British Department for International Magical Cooperation (hereinafter DIMC) will seek recompense for all affected British wizards. The DIMC is empowered to require certification of imported brooms, and will do so in the event standards are not met within" here he'd stopped, waiting for word from on high as to how long the deadline should be. It was a good paragraph, though. He especially liked "hereinafter". It sounded very correct to his ears.

"Percy, Percy, it's Hogwarts..." his assistant, Terrence, burst through the door, startling Percy and causing him to lose his train of thought.

"What is it? Hogwarts? What's going on?" Percy snapped off the three questions in rapid succession, but Terrence was unable to answer them, he merely tugged at Percy's arm as if to lead him from the room.

Percy rose and followed him, walking quickly, through the door and into the common area, where he saw dozens of witches and wizards clustered around the fireplace. From the green flames in the center came a wizard's head. He was speaking. "...haven't any idea where it came from, but we're going to make damn sure whatever it is goes away. And now... wait, I'm getting... ah, the official word from the Ministry of Magic is this: 'We believe some outside force has attacked Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It remains to be seen the extent of the damage to the castle, though observers believe the towers to have toppled, and a great cloud of dust has risen in the area. The first Aurors on the scene have died due to lingering effects of whatever curse was used, and any who approach the are are advised to use extreme caution, as...'" Percy didn't wait to hear any more, but grabbed his cloak from the stand and apparated.

* * *

Whatever he'd been prepared for, it wasn't this. The dust, even down here in Hogsmeade, was so thick it felt like breathing through cotton, and he quickly reached a hand up to cover his mouth and nose. Through the swirling ash he could not see the castle at all, but he quickly ducked into the Three Broomsticks to see where the wizards had gone. He stepped into utter pandemonium. Witches and wizards of every description packed the place, many coughing, covering their mouths, muttering small spells under their breath... it was chaos. As Percy looked around, stunned, a wizard made his way through the crowd and to the doorway next to him. "Another Weasley?"

"Is... is my father here? Arthur Weasley, is he here?"

"Yes, yes, he's on the far side of the school. You can't get closer magically; you'll have to walk. Here, take these," and he handed Percy a pair of goggles and a breathing mask. "You'll need them to get any closer. It's like snow out there, only deadlier." His voice was grim.

Percy stammered his thanks and put on the proffered items as he turned to the door and exited the tavern. The wizard had been right; it was like snow, impeding his vision and laying thickly on the ground. He hadn't seen his father in eight months, except for the Department Head meetings, where Percy had been taking Mr. Crouch's place due to his employer's illness. As he slogged through the ash and up the hill toward the castle, he was unsure of how his father would react. But he knew it didn't matter. At times like this, there were only a few things he knew you could count on, and the most important of those was family.