DISCLAIMER:  I just realized that I actually own all of the characters so far introduced in this story accept Percy and Penelope!  I also own the setting!  Yay!  But I don't own anyone or anything else.  Happy?

            Also, I'm sorry for not explaining anything earlier.  It's one of my weaknesses in writing.  But at least I'm doing it now, so you can't kill me.

It was the same envelope.  But it couldn't be.  Not after exerting all that effort to convince himself it wasn't real.  Percy closed his eyes, summoning the memory.  An envelope hidden in a drawer.  Remarkable only by its utter lack of peculiarity.   Strangely enough, the image of that envelope had imprinted itself upon his mind.  He opened his eyes and stared at the envelope.  Yes, it was the same one. 

            Dormand stood in the doorway, gazing down the street at some unknown object.  Probably Valentine.  "It's getting dark," he said, not wasting a look at Percy.  "It's not very efficient to leave the door open."

            Then why didn't the old fool close it? Percy thought bitterly.  Perhaps he could even leave before closing it.  He smiled somewhat. If only someone had heard those thoughts.  He, Percy, thinking of his boss as an old fool.  "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, getting from his chair. "I'll get it now."

            "How good of you, Mr. Ignatius."  Dormand's hand hovered over the doorknob, then dropped to his side.  "I suppose I should go drum up something from my office.  There has to be something for me to do.  We're living in dark times, Ignatius.  We can't let ourselves slack."  The office door appeared, and he stepped inside.

            And he had the nerve to complain about efficiency!  Percy marched across the room and slammed the door, then stood before it, daring it to object.  Then he returned to his desk and the envelope.

            It may have been the same envelope, but that didn't mean it held the same letters.  He hadn't gotten a proper look at them, anyway.  Biting his lip, he tipped the envelope and let the contents slide to the desktop.  Three sheets of parchment, none intensely read.  His heart sank as he recognized the handwriting and the ink splatters.  The date on one was the same as it had been last week.  Same letters.

            Again, the prefect in him wasn't pleased.  He wasn't supposed to be reading these.  It was an invasion of someone else's business.  And yet, came another tiny voice, Valentine had handed them to him.  She had made it his responsibility.  Yet he hadn't been the least bit curious about the conversation he and Penelope had overheard, so why should he become wrapped up in a few silly letters?  But Penelope had been intrigued by that conversation.  Maybe she'd be happy about these letters.

            That final thought did him in.  He polished his glasses on his robe and picked up the first letter.

            Simple correspondence it seemed at first.  He found himself strangely disappointed by the introduction of "Dear Matthias, How are you?" and a short paragraph on the health of the writer's wife.  After that, however, came something else.  He read feverishly though the letter, then the next, and finally the last.  His hand gripped the page so hard the ink smudged. 

            The prefect again:  This wasn't his business.  The Ministry:  It's probably all lies.

            He cast a fleeting glance at Dormand's wall, then stuffed the parchment back into envelope.  He had to find Valentine.

            He found her in the tavern where they had first met, a tankard of butterbeer sitting untouched before her.  Fresh tears poured down her cheeks, and she only gave Percy a small nod when he sat down across from her.

            He tossed the envelope on the table and found that the excitement he had felt had suddenly vanished.  He was in front of a crying girl.  It made the whole situation very awkward.  But he had to get it out.  He took a deep breath.  "You read these."

            She sniffed and met his eyes with sudden ferocity.  "Yeah, well, they were in my notes!"

            "Does. . . Dormand know?"

            Valentine shrugged indifferently. "How would I know?  And what difference would it make?  Winston handed me my notes back after you had gone over them, and I found the envelope."

            That had been the week before. "When did you find them?"

            "Today, about an hour ago."  The ferocity in her eyes become accusing.  "I don't always get around to things like that.  That's your job.  The dragons are more important."

            "Or were."

            "They still are.  I don't care if this was all crap;  at least I got to work with them!"

            The few other patrons were beginning to look.  Oblivious, Valentine continued to silently rage.  But Percy grimaced and grabbed her arm. "Lower your voice."

            "I wanna know how you're involved, Ignatius," she hissed, shaking him off.

            "I'm not.  I'm just. . ."  He sighed.   "I came out here and heard about a job.  I've been going through some problems—"
            "Haven't we all."

            "—I've been going through some problems and I was offered a job.  That's my involvement."

            She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of butterbeer.  "Anything else?"

            "I may have slipped the letters into your notes." 

            She seemed to notice the other people in the tavern.  Discreetly pulling out her wand, she muttered a spell.  "There.  That little charm should keep people from hearing.  Where did they come from?"

            "I found them in the desk.  They were quite hidden, but I was bored and decided to explore."  He blushed;  the experience sounded ridiculously childish when told.

            Valentine gave a small laugh. "Wow.  Didn't expect that from you."  She cleared her throat. "But you don't know who put them there?"

            Percy frowned. "Besides Dormand?"

            It was her turn to blush. "I mean. . . oh, heck.  Whatever."

            "Did you know?" he pressed.  "You've heard about the Order of the Phoenix, haven't you?"

            "Somewhat.  Believe it or not, some information does make its way out here.  It's just that. . . " All traces of humor faded from her face. "I knew what that Order was doing, and while I knew—thought—Brown was focused on protecting these dragons from becoming Voldemort's soldiers, I figured we were all pretty much on the same side.  But we're just a lur.  Good grief, that's a ridiculous story.  Dragon armies?  Did you laugh when  you first heard about it?"

            "I. . . I really don't remember."  He picked up one of the letters.  "They're from Jason Gunnion.  I saw him last week, talking to Dormand.  Have you heard of him?"

            Valentine shook her head. "That's why I'm so worried.  I mean, I swear that I didn't know anything about this."  Another tear seeped from her eye.  "I grew up in a town about 30 miles east of here.  I heard all these stories about the dragons out this way, and I wanted nothing more than to see them.  About a year ago, Dormand passed through my town, recruiting people for Brown.  He wanted to protect those dragons from this imaginary altered Imperious curse.  I thought it was a dream come true."

            Percy watched her for a few moments.  He recognized the passion.  He had seen it in his brother Charlie.  The familiarity was almost nice.  He suddenly found himself feeling sorry for Valentine.

"You know I'm new here," he said.  "But it seems from these letters that all you've been doing is busy-work.  Something to—"

"Something to attract the Order of the Phoenix," she finished. "I feel so damn stupid.  But that Gunnion guy wrote that we weren't supposed to be attracting that kind of attention yet."

"He seemed worried when I overheard him," Percy said, remembering. "Dormand was trying to assure them that the Order still didn't know about Brown.  And yet that eventually do want to get the Order's attention."

"They have to be plotting something."  Her eyes lit up.  Evidently she was intrigued by the idea of a conspiracy.

"Yes, but what?  You don't know if anyone from the Order has come around here, have you?"

"No, but. . ."  She locked eyes with him again.  "You're not from the Order, are you?  You seem quite excited about this."

"I.. ."  His voice trailed off.  He was being overzealous about this, he realized.  At least, more zealous than he had been about anything for a week of knowing Valentine.  "I guess I can't be neutral forever." 

"Neutral?"  She sighed and tugged at one of her blonde curls.  "That's what attracted a lot of people to Brown.  Some people don't want to be neutral.  There's no glory in it.  At least that's my take on it.  Dormand told everyone his life story.  He once supported Voldemort, back in the first war.  Then, he said, he changed.  Changed for the better."

Percy gave a dark laugh.

"I know.  But that's what he said.  He wanted to make up for what he did.  He said he was obligated to.  In fact, that's where the name of his stupid little organization comes from. He had this weird little metaphor."  She closed her eyes, thinking.  "White symbolizes purity.  Red is the color of sin. But even if you change and are forgiven, you can never go back to being white.  It's too late.  It doesn't mean you're still a horrible person. But you know too much.  You're no longer innocent.  Pink is still corruption.  But brown is the color of redemption."

He let the statement sink in.  "Different."  He wasn't sure what to think of it.  It seemed wrong for someone like Dormand to say.  Dormand was pretending to be good. It was all a façade.  He touched his left wrist.  Now he was being the hypocrite.  But at least he wasn't pretending to be some saint.

"It attracted a lot of people.  Damn propaganda.  I just. . . I just want to know Winston is involved.  He's very close to Dormand."

"Is that why you were calling for him?"

She smiled weakly. "I wanted to kill him.  He's the one who gave me the notes back with those Gunnion-Dormand letters.  You know, you should probably go back now. I don't want Dormand suspecting we know anything."  She reached for the letters, but Percy pulled them back.

"I'll keep them." 
            She blinked. "Oh.  Okay then.  And I hope for you sake that you really aren't in the Order of the Phoenix. I'm worried that if there was some sort of spy around here, and someone found out, they'd be killed."