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Percy and Morsley both grabbed for Marchent, but did so even knowing it was much too late. Dormand had not screamed—the body-bind spell took care of that. A thought crossed Percy's mind: was Dormand capable of screaming? Was physical mortality and pain so natural and base that even a shell could react? Perhaps it was best he didn't know. He and Morsley knocked into Marchent, somewhat distracting him from his actions. But Marchent was stronger than either of them. Eyes near flaming, he swung the knife at them, no motion to attack, but a definite suggestion to move back.
"Brogan, you're insane," Morsely said breathily, reaching for the hand that wielded the knife.
Marchent managed to stab Dormand again. Blood spurted from the stiff chest like a hot red fountain, staining the soil. From behind the men came sobs. Valentine.
The wand, moron, Percy thought suddenly. He pulled it from his robes and aimed it at Marchent. "Petrificus totalus!" The same spell he had used on his victim. A control over irony was a good thing.
The bloody knife fell from Marchent's grip as he collapsed, board-like, to the earth. Dormand fell next to him, blood flow not yet ebbing. He lay like a mannequin in a pool of blood. Morsley stepped back, face pale. "Oh, hell. Oh hell," he murmured.
This wasn't supposed to happen, Percy thought wildly. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was the most. . . illegal. . . wrong thing. . . he realized Dormand's blood stained his robes as well. With a barely-functioning arm he tried to push it away.
"Why did he do that?" Valentine's shrill voice cried.
What a thing for her to watch. Percy turned slowly, finding difficulty in tearing his eyes away from the body.
Morsley knelt on the ground next to Valentine, his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Why the hell did he do that?" she repeated.
It didn't feel real. But it was. Prefect instincts, they were supposed to take over soon! With a deep breath, Percy returned to Dormand. The body was limp now, evidently the spell had warn off. Dormand lay doll-like, staring emptily at the sky. So much like the prior morning. Except then he hadn't been. . . Percy knelt over him and felt for the carotid artery. Nothing. No breathing, no sign of life except for the flowing red. Dormand was dead. Crouch was dead. The last one. Even as Percy watched, the features melted and twisted into the fame of Barty Crouch, Jr. The final evidence.
"Who is he?" Morsley asked, voice filled with amazement. "Do you know him?"
"I used to work for his father," came the toneless reply. He had practically led Crouch, Sr. to his death. Now his son? Mind whirling into nothing, he raised his wand and released Marchent from the body-bind. Valentine shrieked and clung tighter to Morsley.
Laughing weakly, Marchent climbed to his feet. His hands and arms were covered in blood. He stood above Crouch, face aglow. "So he was someone else all along. The werewolf was right. And I killed him. He lied to us, and I killed him. I killed him. His face suddenly changed, and his body shook. "I killed him."
"Yes, you did." Percy found himself saying.
Marchent whirled to Percy, horrified realization utterly evident. "I killed him. No, no. I couldn't have. I couldn't have." He stared at his hands, still dripping. "No."
"Well," said Remus matter-of-factly. "He's dead. That much is clear." He wiped his hands, bloody from checking the body, on the grass.
"I'm the doctor here," Penelope said, voice trembling as she tried to remain calm. "I could have told you that."
Percy's next course of action had been to retrieve Penelope. Of course, she had insisted Remus Lupin come along. To do what? He wondered. What interested could the Order possibly have in a dead body?
"Doesn't it please you to know your theory was correct?" Marchent asked venomously.
"In the presence of a dead man?" Remus asked. He shook his head. "The theory holds no emotions for me. It was an idea that happened to be true. What more can I say?"
"The puppet they created is destroyed." Marchent was still stunned over what he had done.
"Just shut up!" Percy shouted, marching over. "I don't think you realize what you've done!"
"Oh, I understand perfectly. You're not the one who held the knife."
"You didn't do this in hospitilization when you realized what Dormand—I mean Crouch had done to you," Penelope said.
Marchent sighed and shook his head. He sat apart, like he had done the prior morning after the attack. "I don't understand. Perhaps I was too weak then. I've always had a temper."
"We've seen it before," Morsley said. "But you've never killed anyone—"
"He betrayed us!" Marchent shouted, jumping to his feet. "He lied to us! No, someone else did! Someone was controlling this… thing!"
"And that's exactly what you've ruined!" Percy exclaimed. "Think about it! Crouch…Dormand was the one protection you had! We all thought he was real! And you and Winston and Valentine have worked with him for ages! For all we know, Jason Gunnion thought him real! And now he's dead. No, not dead. Murdered. Do you think Gunnion or whoever was controlling him will not get suspicious?"
His fear had been voiced out loud. Silence filled the air.
"I don't understand what you're saying," Valentine finally said.
"What I'm saying is that we're now in danger! They know we know!" Percy felt strangely alive, his fury overpowering him. He had always had a temper—nothing like Marchent's, of course—but anger had always been close to him. But he hadn't truly felt it… not like this… in so long….
"Who's they?"
Oh, good grief. If the girl wasn't so upset. . .
Penelope slipped her hand into Percy's. "But it's one more out of the way. Whoever was controlling Crouch might even have to appear."
"What about the Dementors?" Remus asked.
She blinked. "Dementors?"
He gazed pointedly at Marchent. "Brogan, you mentioned something in the woods. Something you were supposed to be keeping us from the other night."
Marchent met Remus' eyes. "I guess I have my own little theory."
"Will you show us?"
"I'm not following that lunatic!" Morsley spat. "Valentine's about ready to crack, so I should take her. . ."
She shook her head. "No, no. I'm fine. I want to see these. And you'll be coming, of course."
Percy looked to Penelope. He wasn't keen on following Marchent, either.
"Percy, this is important," she pleaded. "We'll be safe. I don't think Marchent would attack one of us."
"He did the other night."
"We're with him. He can't be Imperioused with us around."
Percy wasn't so certain.
Marchent started into the trees, the others following at a safe distance behind him. At first the woods were familiar, the same ones Percy had hiked through on his way to the village. Valentine's fear ebbed somewhat and she rambled on about the different trees and how they'd find an old dragon's nest if they had turned back at such a point. It was irritating to Percy. This was serious. Gradually the trees changed, seemed to darken. The earth dipped beneath them into a gully, deep, shady, and full of low-hanging willows.
"Further down stream, of course," Remus murmured to himself.
"Stop!" Penelope suddenly shrieked.
Percy squeezed her hand. "What's wrong?"
"It's. . ." Her feet nearly gave out beneath her, and she fell into Percy's side.
He caught her. "Penny?"
"Dementors," Remus said.
"I don't see any. . ." Morsley began.
"They're gone, of course," Valentine replied. Her voice was strangely still. "It's not very powerful. . ."
As Percy listened, his heart began to race. Not the full-out horror of dementors hung in the gully, but something else. . .whisps of bad memories he couldn't quite bring out.
"They were here shortly ago," Marchent said. "They've… left. But not very long ago."
"Is this what they were plotting?" Morsley asked softly. "There are Dementors around here. And then… us… in Dragon's Tooth."
Valentine laughed weakly. "Forget the dragon army. There's us. Well, at least my dragons are safe. Oh, Winston, we have to do something."
"So that's what they had in store for the Order," Percy realized.
"So Dumbledore sent me out here for a reason," Penelope said softly.
"Dumbledore. . ." Percy echoed. Sudden rage welled up inside of him. "What?!"
Penelope pushed herself away, expression bewildered. "I mean.. . Percy. . ."
"You're in the Order of the Phoenix?" It was too much to believe. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It was a secret."
Valentine, Marchent, and Morsley stood back, Dementors forgotten.
"Percy, we're both in the Order—" Remus started.
Percy couldn't believe it. This was too much on top of everything else… she had kept a secret from him. "So you're in the Order. And you managed to find a wanted man. Did you tell them I was out here?" He whirled on Remus. "Did she tell you I was out here?"
"I had no idea you were here!"
Penelope was now crying. "No one was supposed to know. I couldn't tell you at first, for obvious reasons. And even when I trusted you. . ."
"You still couldn't trust me enough to tell me?" Percy said. "So is that what you've been doing out here? Spying on me?"
She stared at him, lip trembling, as she tried to fight back her tears.
How he hated seeing her cry. "Penny, I. . ."
"I hate you!" With that, she vanished.
"She's in the Order of the Phoenix?" Morsley asked dumbly.
Shaking, Percy turned to Remus. "Did you know? Of course you knew. You're in it with her."
"I didn't know she hadn't told you." Remus sighed. "This is going to ruin you someday."
"Hmph." Percy sat down on the damp grass and let the Dementor-whisps attack his mind.
