A/N: This is in response to my own challenge. You might like to read Skye Night if you're planning to read this, otherwise you'll hae no idea who the hell Lycan Malum is. This is kinda dark, though.
Warning: Self-mutilation.
For Jacques.
Lycan's Prologue.
The boy had been staying with Sirius Black and Storm Night for a while now. To him they were the parents he never had. Yes, he had had Merope, but she was not a mother. She was a tyrant, wishing nothing more for his death, so she could become more powerful. So she could become a dictator, or was it a dictatress? In reality it didn't matter, she did as she wanted with no thought of how it would affect others.
Sometimes he wished he'd never been born; then he wouldn't have this burning pain in him. He hated his name, hated who he was. Hated that he'd almost killed Skye; that he'd almost given her away to Voldemort… Hated that he felt the way he did. Guilt-ridden, useless… Proven over and over again. He was of no use to his mother, who'd planned his death… a mere pawn… and as for Skye, what could he do? He wasn't strong, he had no voice, he was exceptionally skilled… except at pointing out the obvious, as it were – as he'd been reminded of countlessly. His name tasted bitter on his own tongue.
He was so mad. Just so inexplicably mad… at himself, at his mother… at those that dared care for a monster – such as him. He knew he was a monster, even if others told him he wasn't. He'd almost killed his sister… Skye was… Skye. Indescribable, arrogant and stubborn, but she knew no false modesty. She knew exactly what she could do. She was also brutally honest – even if it hurt the receiver.
But it was needed. Especially in the raging war that was about to befall them.
Life. Has it a meaning? Is it a question that can be answered? Or is the answer simply death? Did they come to die? He felt no purpose… would it be truly that bad if he died?
That's when he used the weapon he hid under his mattress. The razor he'd nicked from the bathroom in Riddle Manor long ago, wrapped in a bloodied cloth.
He brought the razor down on his wrist, finding it surprisingly sharp for its rust covered blade. He'd watch the scarlet drip down slowly… drop by drop… onto the cloth… The pain nothing compared to what it was in the beginning…
Until Sirius found him one day, before he who was Lycan Malum had thought off Sirius as a brother or father figure, back when he hated everything and everyone. Except for Skye. Her he wanted to protect. With his life if he could. For reasons unknown to him.
He'd been lying on the floor; a small pool of blood had formed around his wrist. His face pale against the dark floor.
"Lycan?" Sirius had been looking for him. "Oh my goodness, Lycan!"
Sirius had tapped the wrist and cleaned up the blood. Lycan refused to explain himself, he couldn't. He had no voice.
He'd been lifted into the air and cradled to the older man's chest. As a child. He was laid on the bed, with instructions to sleep and the blade wrenched from him.
The next morning Sirius was beside his bed when he woke up.
"You have a visitor." Sirius said coolly before standing up and opening his bedroom door. Laud stood there, looking thin. His skin clung tightly to his bones…
"Good morning, Lycan." Laud said, nodding towards him. Lycan returned his nod.
"I'll leave you two." Sirius said from the doorway. "But you and I have to talk later on."
Lycan groaned, but no sound came from him. Couldn't he just be left alone? Goodness only knew he needed some peace and quiet.
Laud entered the room and sat on the chair next to his bed.
"Sirius told me about what happened." No hint of even an accusation in that hauntingly soft voice. "I don't blame you, Lycan, but you need to exercise caution." Laud protruded a card from his inner robes and flung it skillfully at Lycan. "Your destiny awaits."
Lycan looked at the card. It looked exactly like him, except he looked… dark… He looked at Laud, questioningly.
"We each have a destiny – that happens to be yours."
Lycan looked at the card again, and he flinched at the sight of his mother in the background.
No.
He mouthed the word.
"Am I to understand you refuse this destiny?" Laud asked. Lycan nodded vigorously. "Then look at the card again."
He did. He'd changed. Now, instead of a brooding man with a too large sword, he looked like a sort of angel. In his arms stood the girl he thought of as a sister, his arms protecting her.
"Silent Guardian." Laud pointed to the Galician inscription at the bottom of the card. "You've changed the entire fate, Lycan."
Lycan didn't know what to make of his friend's tone. Was it… impressed? Or something else? Pride? Loathing?
"'Tis a good thing." Laud reassured him. "I'm just saddened that what was supposed to happen much later, will now come… within two years."
What are you talking about? Lycan quickly mouthed the words. Laud simply smiled before standing up and leaving.
Lycan stared at him and stashed the card quickly under his pillow as Sirius reentered.
"Well?" The animagus demanded. "What the hell was last night all about?"
Lycan stared at him. The man knew he couldn't speak, so why ask questions? Sirius smirked, as if having heard the thoughts. He raised his wand and pointed it at Lycan.
"Legilimens."
His mother… brainwashing him… wanting to deliver Skye to Voldemort… torturing Skye, ready to speak the fatal incantation… unloved… guilty… useless… his name…
Sirius pulled out.
"Lycan…" He reached out and gripped the just-adult's arm. "You are not useless. Nor are you unloved. Skye loves you, Storm loves you… and I love you."
Lycan's eyes were brimming with tears.
"You've made it up to her tenfold, do you realize that? Simply by being there?"
Lycan hadn't known that, as a matter of fact.
"I see you hate your name."
Just the Malum part. Lycan thought. It meant evil.
"How would you like to become a Black?"
Lycan stared at Sirius.
What? He mouthed.
"I'm serious about this, Lycan."
Lycan smiled and nodded.
He would give anything to be a Black son.
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A/N: short, I know, but took me a few weeks. Please review…