Yes, I'm alive and the space aliens have freed me. Sorry I haven't written forever. I moved to Washington to work for my uncle for the next few months while I'm off-school, and things are still kind of hectic.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. JK does.
Percy stared hard at the door long after Remus Lupin had left. And there he was, at the entrance of a strange empty room standing next to the shell of a Dementor victim. A bad memory hitting him again. His former boss Mr. Crouch, of course, had never received the terrible kiss, but his son the imposter had. That was a fact no one could deny, not even the Ministry with all their twisted lies. And he, Percy Weasley, was again stuck in one of the more precarious positions of the situation. It was like some damn curse. Insane, he thought. The entire world had flipped upon itself and had gone insane. And now Remus Lupin had to enter the picture.
He swore and gave Dormand's body a swift kick. It was disgusting, the sight of a man he had just seen walking around, utterly normal, lying in the dust like one of those Muggle wax dummies. And everything had been going so well. Penelope that morning. . . now what was she going to think? He smiled in spite of himself. Penny might actually enjoy another small addition to her pet conspiracy.
Penny. He had let that old nickname slip back into his thoughts.
No. He shook his head. Now he was the insane one. There was a soulless man lying on the floor of his office. This was not a time to be thinking of girls! Not even Penelope. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. Think, Percy, he told himself. That's what you're supposed to be good at. You're here, Lupin has left with probably all the evidence, so you need to take complete responsibility. Yes, something had to be done with Dormand before anyone else came.
Or another Dementor, he thought with a shiver.
Unfortunately, he hadn't been taking up such responsibility for a few years. And even so, he only knew of one way to deal with such a mess.
Hide it.
With a final disgusted glare at Dormand, Percy stepped into the main office and slammed the door shut. He breathed deeply and hoped he looked reasonably composed. Then he sat down at this desk, where he found nothing to do. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even some crazed parchment from Valentine. Heart pounding, he searched the desk several times. He needed something to do. That's what one was supposed to do when something wrong was going on: keep busy. That was the only thing that could keep a mind off whatever chaos was ransacking the world. There was a certain safety in order that he had come to expect; how on earth was he supposed to go without it now, what with his conscience screaming accusations of near-murder at him? Feeling like a thousand knives were grinding their ways into his flesh, he leaned over his desk, gazing at the wild patterns in the wood, waiting.
Lupin had to return soon. He couldn't just leave Percy in the dark about the bottle.
Assuming Lupin trusted Percy.
A wave of sickness washed through Percy along with fresh anger. How dare Lupin come here. Lupin wasn't welcome.
Occasionally he glanced at the door, hoping someone would enter and give him something to do. A few people passed by on the street, but no one entered, or ever looked inside the open door. It had never occurred to him exactly how few people he had seen in direct association with Dormand.
Dormand. Good grief, Percy was acting like he had sucked Dormand's soul out.
Finally he sighed, pushed back his chair with one violent motion, and walked to the door. This was a complete waste of time! Dormand was. . . gone, and there was no point in waiting around for Lupin to come back. Percy had done nothing but stumble upon Lupin with Dormand's body. If Dormand were truly opposing the Order of the Phoenix, it was Lupin's problem; the man had already accepted it, leaving Percy utterly in the dark. As furious as Percy was, he couldn't help but admit that Lupin was a good man and would be sure to protect whomever he needed to. Lupin seemed to care enough about the Weasleys to not mention Percy to them. Yet Percy stood in the doorway a long time before slamming the door behind him and heading down the street.
What had become of the gusto of the previous hour?
The tavern appeared before him n what seemed like an instant. He had never before realized just how. . . nice the tavern really was. Penelope was lucky to stay there. As he came closer, he could hear the faint blurred voices of the people inside. Probably having a very active lesson. How much would the Healers appreciate it if he came again to steal Penelope away? Not much, especially after the questionability of last night. Who know what sort of trouble that had thrown Penelope into?
He suddenly realized that he had stopped walking and was now staring only at the tavern. How pathetic, a tiny voice said, to be standing in the street waiting for some girl to appear.
Then he saw a bit of white flutter in an upper window. He squinted. It looked like a sheet of parchment, caught on the window like a tied bird. Then it snapped free, beat against the air for a moment, and swooped down to Percy where it hovered before his face, folded and waiting to be opened. A note—he recognized the short-distance delivery charm. He quickly unfolded it.
Dear Percy,
I really do need to attend my lessons once in awhile if I ever hope to complete my training with honors, but I left this note just in case you came by.
I'm not sure as to what happened this morning, and perhaps it's best I apologize for anything I might have done, for I don't know what your feelings are despite my suspicions. After this morning and the way I've treated you over the past few years (especially this past week) with all I have said, I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again. If that is your wish, I can accept it and even try to honor such a wish. But that is all I can apologize for.
As I have said, I believe everything you say. I don't know what that means to you now, as my actions have not exactly corresponded with that. But I will believe anything you tell me.
Perhaps later we can get together and talk.
Love,
Penelope
Percy read the letter several times, drinking up the words before refolding it and placing it in his pocket. Black marks clung to his hands, fresh ink just from the bottle. He liked the smell of ink, he always had. There was another scent mixed with it, just as familiar. The letter had even smelled like Penelope.
She wanted to talk. Coming from a female, that statement was ambiguous for good or evil. However, this time. . . this had to be good. It just felt right.
He gazed one more time up at the empty window with partial hope Penelope's face might appear. But good for her for sticking to her training. That was something he could approve of.
Now where to go? He could return to the office to stand as guilty when someone finally found Dormand. Lupin hopefully might have done something with the body, if he had returned—Lupin had originally found Dormand and deserved more blame than Percy.
And then there was the possibility that Winston Morsley had stumbled upon the body. He seemed to have unquestioned access to that office. . .
A sickening thought entered Percy's mind. He raced through his impressions of Morsley. He had not seemed to believe what Percy and Valentine had told him, nor did he fit the profile of someone who would work with Dementors. But Percy had dealt with too much falsity. It didn't made sense, but nothing ever did anymore. And Morsley would certainly be in there by now. Percy broke into a run.
He caught up with Morsley at the door. Morsley stopped, hand on the doorknob, as Percy ran up panting.
"Ignatius," he said softly. He didn't look well; his dark hair was limp and unbrushed, face paler than usual, eyes red as if he had not slept. "Why aren't you inside already?"
It was almost a reprimand, and Percy shrank back instinctively.
Morsley shook his head and resumed opening the door. "Never mind. I just wanted to talk to you."
He wasn't about to confess, was he?
"I couldn't find Valentine anywhere, so. . .I came here." His eyes dropped to the ground. "It's just that I thought about what you told me."
"So you admit we were correct?" Percy asked solemnly.
Morsley's face reddened as he nodded. "I'm not completely sure yet, but if Valentine is worried than maybe I should be as well."
No sign of anything involving a Dementor.
"Maybe I should speak to Dormand." He misread the shock on Percy's face. "No, I don't confront him. Just sort of spy. He always seemed so fanatical—a trait I admired," he finished bitterly.
"So it doesn't really surprise you," Percy replied.
"Oh, I'm very surprised. I just wonder if anything else is involved."
"What do you mean?"
Morsley shrugged and stepped inside. "I wish I could say."
"Morsley." Percy quickly side-stepped the other man. "You can't talk to Dormand."
Morsley gave a dry laugh and dodged Percy. "Don't worry."
"No, you don't understand."
"What don't I understand?"
"Understand what?"
Percy and Morsley spun around. Matthias Dormand stood in the doorway of his office, fully alive and aware. His white hair was freshly brushed and his face was brightened with an almost-cheerful expression. He held a ceramic mug in his hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been out all morning, but there has been so much work. . . Mr. Ignatius, are you all right?"
Percy managed a nod, thinking about how his legs were threatening to give way beneath him. Impossible. He had seen. . . what had he seen? Dormand had been absolutely lifeless. Lupin. Perhaps Lupin had done something. But it was still impossible. He shook his head. He couldn't freak out now. "Er. . . Morsley has something to ask you."
Morsley, who had been watching Percy with confused interest, shook his head. "It can wait, sir. I know how you are before you coffee."
Dormand nodded, absolutely placid. "Five minutes. Then enter my office and say whatever you want to say." He turned back to his office door.
But in that quick instant Dormand turned Percy caught something on the man's face. A shift in the skin tone or something, perhaps a play of shadows. For that moment, it wasn't fully Dormand's face. Something was different. But familiar. Another familiar face merged in there.
That was silly. He was upset. Upset people saw things.
"I'll go to my desk now," he muttered, slinking off without another look at Morsley. Not that he had anything to do. He slumped into his chair, mind whirling. In a few minutes, Morsley entered Dormand's office, leaving Percy alone. Percy waited patiently for Morsley return. He finally did, utterly bewildered.
"I really don't know if I can believe you," he said, shaking his head. "He didn't seem suspicious at all."
Percy stared down at the faint scratches on his desk before looking up. "You know what Dementors are, don't you?"
Morsley blinked. "Yes. . ."
"And you know what they do?"
"Suck out one's soul." He shivered as he spoke.
"This morning, Dormand was like that."
Morsley gave a hollow laugh. "What? He's fine now. How could that change?"
Percy sighed. "I wish I knew."
Morsley stared at him, frowning. "I don't know what the matter is with you today, but it's probably best that you leave. I don't have any work for you, and it doesn't look like Dormand does, either. If anyone comes in, Dormand can get them. I'll tell him you're ill."
Percy didn't want to leave. He had always felt sick days were an abandonment of responsibility. And yet what else was he supposed to do? "I'll do that."
