Percy tugged at his collar, a nervous habit that did not result in a loosening of his tie, which was what he really wanted to do in this heat.
"I wish I knew for sure," he murmured, wetting his lips with a drink from his glass. "I've... overheard some conversations. Propaganda and nonsense, I'm almost certain, but all the same, they gave me pause. I wanted you to know that things... might get worse."
He hooked a finger under his collar once more.
"I'm not saying necessarily that they will, only that they might. I don't indulge in gossip."
Only when such gossip originated from the lips of Dolores Umbridge was Percy inclined to lend some measure of truth to the woman's words.