Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar [Book 6]

25) This Chapter Has a Title

Don't get me wrong; Dumbledore was a very cool guy. He was probably one of my favorite people. He always had candy, he was wise beyond his years (and there were a lot of years), and, overall, I think he was a good guy.

Getting summoned to his office alone was never a good sign, though. Not for the first time, I wished that there were someone else that could fill in the shoes I was constantly made to run in. I was the only son of Poseidon, I was best friend's with Harry Potter (who, because of the stupid prophecy, had no choice regarding his position in the war, either), and I was a pretty decent wizard. There were things I could achieve that couldn't be achieved by anyone else. That didn't mean I wanted to do them.

But I did them anyway, as we all did.

"Acid pops," I told the gargoyle. It seemed to stare at me sadly before jumping aside, and I told myself it was a trick of the lighting.

"Come in!" Dumbledore cheerfully called once I'd knocked upon the door, my concerns alleviating a tad. Maybe he just needed some place graffitied again, I could do that.

When I pushed the door open, I knew that it wasn't vandalism he needed. Dumbledore looked calm, collected, perhaps even happy as he sat behind his desk, twiddling his thumbs together. The problem lied in the person sitting across from him, pointedly facing away from my entrance, hunched slightly over himself with an emotion I couldn't place while their face was hidden from view.

"No," I promptly said. "Whatever this is, no."

"No one's in trouble, Mr. Jackson," Dumbledore said, the happy glow fading from him at once, like it had all been a front and now that the moment was here, it slipped away.

"Not right now, but I think we're gonna be. He can't do anything other than spy for us, his dad'll find out! And he's brought us good information. We almost got Dolohov two weeks ago, didn't we? And we found out that nanny who was babysitting in Order members' houses was actually a Death Eater because of him!"

"Please sit down, Mr. Jackson," Dumbledore sighed.

"No!" I scowled. "I don't need to sit down because this isn't a conversation, I —"

"Percy, please," Draco pleased with me, face pinched and eyes strangely wet. I sat down.

"I am not asking Draco to do anything other than part of what he's been told to do." Dumbledore tapped one long finger against his desk, methodical, rhythmic. It wasn't soothing. It seemed to match the erratic beat of my heart.

"He's been told to spy and he's done it well," I said, hating the anxious look Draco wore.

"He has, and I thank him greatly for it," Dumbledore said. "This meeting tonight isn't about what he's been asked to do by me; it's about what he's been ordered to do by Voldemort."

And that felt so much worse.

I'm sure if Draco had wanted him to, Dumbledore would've told me what was up. But Draco seemed to need to be the one to say it, this weight being his burden to bear. "I've got orders to kill Dumbledore. And you." I flinched, more in shock than in actual concern. "Priorities are Dumbledore. Cut the head off the snake, you know? But once he's dead, I'm supposed to kill you, too." His voice trembled, and he wasn't looking at me again.

I turned to Dumbledore slowly. "You want him to do part of this job? I mean... I'll die for the cause, but not, like, gladly, so if we could find a workaround, that'd be greatly appreciated."

And Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling in a way I wasn't used to. "I'm not asking Draco to kill you, Mr. Jackson. I'm afraid you've got too much life left to live. I do, however, feel that my time is approaching its end."