How much could he tell her? How could he even make sense of what he had heard? If they had maintained the sort of relationship where it would not have been inappropriate to meet with her in private, in the safety of his flat or hers, Percy felt sure he would have been more candid.
But now...
"I don't for a moment question your intellect," Percy continued haltingly. "Your interpretation of events is sound, but I mean to say," and he lowered his voice, inevitably casting a glance around again as casually as he dared. It was not the lunch hour and the cafe was not heavily patronized. He would not names. His job would not be compromised if he gave no one's names, and then turned out to simply have been a paranoid git.
"I overheard a conversation that I am sure was intended to be a private one." His voice was serious, without the twinge of panic that pressed at his throat for the many degrees of wrong he felt for what he was doing. "Ministry officials, close to the Minister, discussing methods for wand disposal. I thought perhaps at first they meant for prisoners in Azkaban, but Penny," dear Penny, "they meant wands that belonged to Muggleborns."
Percy did not utter the disgusting word they had used, for all it might have seemed less conspicuous.