Percival Jasper Swinton had gotten himself in too deep, and he knew it.

Despite popular public opinion, he was not a stupid man. No, not in the slightest. He was short and somewhat emaciated looking; not the sort of person that anyone would be easily intimidated by. And so, when he had learned of an opportunity to gain a little bit of power, he had jumped at the chance.

But then... people had started dying. Now, P.J. Swinton was not the sort of man easily moved by sentimental things. One might even be inclined to think he took candy from babies and kicked puppies. But there was a difference between being mean and horrid, and being responsible for the deaths of children, people he knew from his own long past days at school, acquiantences, all for the sake of a little bit of a foothold in the world. The conscience he didn't even know he had had reared it's ugly, unwelcome head and it wouldn't shut up.

Blast it all.

He might have done a few things that his master wouldn't be too happy with. A bit of a lead for the Aurors here, a "mis-aimed" curse there. Nothing too serious... just enough to quiet the screams that he could still remember. All the same, they weren't that loud to begin with, or so he told himself.

Still, he was in too deep to get out now.

And so he found himself aparating in front of the Hog's Head, his palms sweating as he gripped his wand, hidden in the sleeves of his dark robes. Luckily, his hood was pulled up and his Death Eater mask covered the twitch that ticked over his right eye. He could do this. He'd done it before. Granted, he hadn't ever battled the Hogwarts professors- his old professors- let alone Dumbledore. But they were just wizards like him, and Dumbledore was nothing more than a crazy man with good luck and good back up.

And so with a deep intake of breath, he raised his wand at the door to the tavern and, with one harsh word that made his throat taste horribly and a flick of his wand, the door to the tavern burst open with a horrid bang, the wood charred black from the spell. Another wave and word had a thread of green fire speeding towards the door, as if a string of muggle gunpowder was trailing it along.

And, once the whole of the city knew of the impending doom, once the doorway to the Hog's Head looked like a gateway to Pureblooded Hell, with licks and tongues of green, purifying fire, once he quieted the agitation in his mind and covered the places in his soul that were still tender with a fierce plate of leaden greed, he entered. Granted, this all took only a few moments, and so he entered with his wand up, pointed at the nearest body.

"Expelliarmus!"