"The letters can be changed a little bit," Valentine mused, absentmindedly tracing an invisible pattern on the floor of the office where she sat with Winston Morsley and Percy. "The ones I forged, I mean. I can make them even more confusing. At least, confusing enough that this Jason Gunnion will stay far, far away from the village." She gave a wane smile and shook her head sadly. "To think they still get to come to some use. I think I'm actually a bit happy about that."
"Hm." Winston shrugged. "They're basically all we have to rely on right now. Confuse Mr. Gunnion enough… he doesn't come here. And we live out the rest of our natural lives hiding…damn, this is a really pathetic plan."
Valentine ripped her hand from the floor in a terrifying moment where she might as well swung her nails at Winston's face. "We are not going into hiding! How can we, what with the Dementors everywhere around here?"
"The Dementors have as much right to be here as we do," Winston replied seriously. "At least they weren't being taken in."
"So now I'm a Dementor, am I? I have to live among them?!"
It was a strange conversation to follow, mostly Valentine and Morsley arguing and Percy drifting his attention in only when it seemed important enough to fully hear. He mostly nodded and gave vague sounds of agreement or disproval, rarely volunteering an opinion. A strange state for him, the one famous for dropping in opinions, mostly unwanted. "We could just leave," he said in a rare speech, voice demonstrating little excitement for his own idea.
The fury left Valentine as she gazed at Percy. "Leave? What do you mean?"
"You're the one who didn't consider staying her hiding," Winston ventured.
"Shut up; I'm talking to Percy. You really want us to leave?"
Was it really such an off-the-wall idea? Percy shrugged, not making eye contact. His hood had been allowed to slip off, and he still felt some embarrassment at his scar. But that wasn't what was bothering him. "If we leave, we were never here. And if we were never hear, we weren't involved."
Valentine snorted her disproval, and Winston even dared laugh. "But we are involved. I think it's a bit late to change that."
"No one has to know that much."
"So you want us to leave the village with whoever will follow us," Valentine began. "And leave the Dementors and whomever the hell is controlling them back here." She angrily shoved a lock of hair from her face. "Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?"
Now that she mentioned it, he did. "I guess we just can't get up and walk away," he admitted.
"Thank-you."
"That would look suspicious."
She sighed. "Percy, I don't know what your problem is. I suspected you had one when you first came here, but I and every other solitary soul were willing to let it go, and now you have to come dragging it out again."
"I'm not dragging anything out." That was true. He had said nothing of what he had done to Morsley or Valentine or anyone else in the village. It wasn't for them to hear. He was simply Percy Weasley, the guy who had once gone under the name of John Ignatius. One of the people had had helped discover that the organization of Brown they had all been so supportive of was nothing more than a cover-up. And Percy didn't want to be involved in anything else wrong again. It only led to disaster. But how could they possible understand that?
"The Healers are leaving," Winston pointed out. "Tomorrow, in fact, if I've heard right."
Percy's head snapped up. "The Healers are leaving tomorrow?"
Winston seemed confused, wondering why someone would get so worked up over something that trivial. "Yes. I suppose someone warned them about what was going on here."
Penny, Percy thought wildly. He hadn't seen her yet, but… she couldn't just leave.
Valentine, at least, was sympathetic. "His girlfriend's one of the trainees, you idiot," she snapped at Winston. "Percy, just. . . just go talk to her. Barge in their if you have to. Who cares if she's mad? She probably still wants to hear an apology—anything—from you."
Percy hadn't seen her in so long…. She couldn't remain mad forever, not after all else he had done. "I know. . . I just. . .I just don't want her to leave."
Valentine smiled and patted his arm. "I know you don't. Just do as I say and go talk to her."
As if on cue, a rap came at the door.
Winston moaned. "That had better not be Marchent again." Ever since Crouch's murder, Marchent had been but an unwelcome presence. He seemed shocked and horrified by what he had done, but it had happened once too many times. Marchent's temper couldn't be trusted. A sad thing, everyone admitted. Marchent really was a good person, but he had suffered too much.
"I'll get it," Percy said, standing up.
It was not Brogan Marchent. It was Pearl, Penelope's friend. She hung some distance from the door, close enough only to knock, as if some presence forced her back. Or she simply didn't want to enter the building.
Percy had rarely spoken to Pearl. She was just "the friend", someone he might see when he saw Penelope. But what was she doing here, by herself, looking so afraid. "Pearl," he managed to stammer.
She nodded, too quickly for either one's comfort. "You're here. I hoped you'd be. I need to talk to you."
Bad news. "Would you. . would you want to come inside and talk there?"
She shook her head, again much too quickly. "No!" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Then she smiled. "I feel so silly. I'm getting all worked up, and I don't even know what over. It's just. . . oh, it's Penelope. I knew you had a fight with her last week. . ."
What was she talking about? Was Pearl the medium for an apology.
"I'm really worried about her," Peal continued.
No. This couldn't be it. Had he really upset her that much? "Pearl, you know as well as I do how I've tried to apology. I'm never allowed to see her. .."
"No, it's not that. It's not that at all. At first, I thought that was what it was, but it can't be. It's just so. . . I don't know how to explain it. Look, Penelope is not herself."
Not herself. The words echoed through his mind, void of any meaning. Something tiny inside of him awoke, panicked, sensing something. But it wasn't strong enough. Or Percy just wouldn't listen. "I don't understand."
Pearl was near tears. "Neither do I. She's not upset or anything, and she still talks to me. But not really about anything. I mean, she still gossips, and I guess if you didn't know her you'd think she was normal, but she seems… I don't know… almost a shadow. She's been like that all week. And she says she doesn't want to leave the village with us or complete her Healer training. And Healer Cortez is just going to let her go like that. Penelope was so excited about her training. . ."
The panic became louder, now struggling to make itself heard. It suspected something, knew something. But Percy couldn't understand. "Where is she?" he demanded. "I have to see her now."
"I don't know," Pearl answered, choking back a sob. "She's. . ." She froze for a moment, then looked up the street. "She's right there. Running errands or something. She's. . .she's normal, too normal. I can't be seen with you. Oh, you have to do something. If you love her, you will." With that, she vanished.
Percy stood in the doorway, watching Penelope has she came closer in view. She looked normal. Perhaps Pearl was upset about the danger of the village and leaving that her imagination was overworking itself. And Penelope. . . she was so beautiful. It amazed him each time how pretty she was. Walking down the street, a cheerful smile, a basket at her arm.
"I'll be back in a minute, " he called to Winston and Valentine before slamming the door behind him.
Penelope didn't seem to notice his approach, not until it was just in front of him. She gave a small scream and dropped her basket, several packets tumbling through the dust that rose. " Percy! You surprised me!"
At least he could frighten her. A smile forced itself over his face as his heart flipped. She had to be okay. "I need to apologize. About the gully. I didn't mean to get upset."
"You're forgiven," she said smoothly, picking up the mess. "It was mean of you, but you're forgiven."
Too calm. He hated the way she avoided his eyes. "Penny, please don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I just panicked because of the whole mess this place is in."
Percy had known enough girls to sense the lies they shielded when they claimed they weren't mad. A tilt of the head, something in the voice. They liked to think they hid their true feelings of anger, but there were ways to tell. But there were none in this occasion. She really was not mad. His breath caught in his throat, swelling painfully at his lungs. "Penny. . ."
"I'm going to stay her a few weeks longer," she said. "Won't that be fun? We'll still have a few weeks together."
She sounded ordinary enough. Expression and emotion even twisted at her voice. "But I haven't seen you in a week."
"I've been busy. And mad at you. But I recently forgave you, so now things are all right."
"But you're supposed to be mad at me!" He didn't sense how his temper flared up until it did. Something was wrong, and he was afraid. He grabbed her hands, squeezing them. "You're always mad at me for one thing or another."
She gasped. "You're hurting me!" She tried to pull away, but he was too strong. "Percy, don't."
"Don't? Don't what?" He had to make her do something. Anything. Anything to ease the fear he felt.
She met his eyes, just for a moment, before dropping them back to his hands. "Just let me go! I have errands to run."
That moment he saw her eyes. . . He released her hands. "I'm sorry," he said tonelessly.
"I'm sorry, too." Her voice cracked. "I need to go." She readjusted the basket at her arm and ran down the street.
"She's gone," came a familiar voice from behind him.
Percy turned to see Brogan Marchent leaning against a building, his face drawn and sullen. "Did you say something."
Marchent solemnly nodded in the direction Penelope had gone. "Penelope Clearwater. It's too late."
Percy's temper flared again. "I don't know what you mean." He refused to know. Refused to even listen to the suspicions building up inside of him. Lies. They couldn't be true.
"You know exactly what I mean." There was no threat in Marchent's voice, only bitter sadness, the kind that came from seeing far too much of what a certain knowledge taught. "The same thing that happened to Dormand."
"No!" He didn't want to hear it. He whirled on Marchent, knowing the other man could easily win a fight if one started.
Marchent held up a hand to keep Percy from getting closer. "You know very well it's true. You saw it when you looked in her eyes. You can always tell that change. Maybe if you didn't know them before, you'd miss it. But if you know someone, you will know that change if it comes."
"You killed Dormand," Percy whispered, his eyes burning into Marchent. "His name is Bartemus Crouch, Jr., and you killed him."
Marchent's face twisted with momentary rage, and Percy was almost afraid he'd be the next victim. But then it calmed. "I know I killed him! Do you think it pleases me? I didn't know him as Crouch, but I knew and trusted the imposter called Matthias Dormand! I thought he was wonderful. I thought he knew what he was doing. Do you have any idea what betrayal I felt when I learned the truth? That I had worked for someone who had fed me so many lies?" He sighed deeply, eyes moist. "And I suppose you feel something similar. Something worse."
"But I don't believe it." He couldn't. Despite all the pain inside, the utter dying of his own soul, he couldn't believe it. Not Penny. She wouldn't do it to him now.
"Yes, you do. I'm very sorry. Penelope was very kind to me when I was under care, and I still feel terrible for attacking her. But it's too late."
Percy braced himself for what he knew was coming next. But even that couldn't help much….
"Somehow, she's been Kissed by a Dementor."
Percy's lungs felt as if they were about to burst. His heart raced, pumping blood faster and faster. He wanted to rip it out.
"She's received that fatal kiss, and her soul is gone. Whoever controlled Dormand is now controlling her. She has no will, and nothing is left of her to fight."
"I don't want to hear it!" Percy shrieked, reaching for his wand. He wanted to kill, kill the idiot who was saying such untruths. But the moment his hand touched the wand, he felt his strength leave him. It was true. He had suspected it from the moment Pearl had spoke to him. He had tried to deny it when he spoke to Penelope herself. But it was true. He had seen her eyes, the ones so like Penelope's but so not. He sunk to the ground, not caring who heard the sobbing coming from his throat. His eyes burned from the tears.
"Do what I did," Marchent said kindly, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry I killed Dormand, but in a way I don't regret it. And you love Penelope. I know you do." He let something clatter to the ground. Percy didn't have to open his eyes to know it was a knife. "If you love her, you wouldn't want her existing this way, an insult to everything she was. It doesn't matter anymore; who she really is, the girl you love, is gone. All that is left is a shell. It's not fair for her body to live that way, controlled. Like a zombie."
Percy barely heard him, didn't notice as he leaved. But he listened to what Marchent told him, and let it spin through his mind behind all the grief he felt. Penny was gone. Not like last time, when even then he had a glimmer of hope, hope that had been fulfilled. She had existed then, a dream in the back of his head always waiting for him. But now she was gone. And he couldn't bring her back.
Shout-outs!
Crystal Lighteing: Scandals are fun. Bwahahaha! And your Patronus had better not scare away the Dementors in my story!
Inu lover: Thanks for reading!
JerseyPike: Yes, I'm updating. Yay, me. I've a new goal to not let anything just… quit.
Mar: Thanks for reading! And I'll probably take you up on the Spanish pieces! I'm getting most of it from my friend who's from Ecuador… and it turns out there are many differences between Latin Spanish and the kind spoken in Spain. As for the Death-Eater thing,, you probably won't believe me about this, but that was a joke I had forgotten about! My friend Andrea (the one helping me) was having a bit of trouble translating that concept for me, so she decided to do a literal word-for-word translation and see if anyone reading knew enough Spanish to catch it! She said something about eating souls. But no one said anything until you and I had completely forgotten about it. Yay you! If I ever go over this story again and the real concept in.
Kemerran: Thanks for reading! You are so gosh darn loyal! *hugs *
Nkittyhawk: Happy Late St. Irishness Day to you! *passes out withering shamrocks * I'm glad you liked Remus. He's actually fun to write. And things are finally wrapping up. I might vamp up this story later on and bring everything thing in tighter. Thank heavens for rewriting power.
