A/N: A crossover of "The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst and "The Cask of Amontillado" by Edgar Allan Poe. Originally written for an English assignment, but I really liked it and it was fun to write (I'm such a nerd). I'm not sure if there's a better-fitting category for this, but I didn't see any short story categories. So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story... :(

William Armstrong did not linger at all once his damaged soul escaped the crippled form that he loathed so. He roamed, venturing to lands he'd only heard about, and to ones he hadn't. He passed towns full of families- brothers- that loved each other. His anguish only flourished, thriving on the hatred for his own brother that boiled his blood with every compassionate scene he gazed upon. Usually, his entering of houses wasn't customary, only when the weather was pitiful.
But this house, he thought, is so… glum, yet it has such grandeur.
He could not have expressed it any better, with its stone exterior, turrets, and wrought-iron gate. Surrounded by the half-leaved trees of the transition from summer to autumn and a background of a twilit sky, it had an almost foreboding aura. A breeze picked up a handful of leaves shed from the trees and seemed to be a warning in the presence of this imposing edifice, although the warmth of the wind seemed to urge him onward. After deliberating for several moments and concluding that no harm could come- it looked like a lonely place-, he glided up the path to the door.
Upon hearing a shifting of air through the doorway to the foyer, Montresor- who resided in this aforementioned mansion- realized it must have been some other-worldly presence. When the translucent apparition drifted through the doorway, Montresor kept his face impassive, masking his shock, and asked in a calm voice, "Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?"
When the two were done with introductions, the specter of a boy told Montresor his story. Now, Montresor felt bad for the little boy, and, being the vengeful man he is, decided to help him out. Montresor proposed revenge.
The ghostly being acquiesced, and thought, Of course, why did I not think of that?
The two set out to the younger's mortal home.
His older brother was scared out of his wits when he saw the face in the mirror behind him the next morning. Doodle! He thought, but when he turned around, there was nothing. It went on like this for some days, Brother thinking he was going mad all the while. Montresor persuaded him to take it to the next level to make his brother pay.
His brother was in their old room. He crept up behind him and plunged a hand through his shoulder. Feeling an uncomfortably icy feeling in the top of his arm, Brother spun and yelled in a hoarse whisper, "Doodle!" Doodle noticed he was weeping. Peering about his brother, he saw a picture of their family on his bed and heard him whispering, "I'm sorry, Doodle, I'm so sorry…" over and over, his voice thick with tears. All previous chagrin washed away as his brother's tears trickled down, replaced with repentance.
"Brother…." He spoke in an apologetic voice. His brother looked up, face aghast. "I'm sorry. I've tormented you these past days. I was so mad, but I'm sorry."
"Oh, Doodle! Doodle. I'm sorry, it was my fault, and I should not have pushed you. I was ashamed of having you as a brother, and now I'm ashamed of myself."
"It's okay, I forgive you, Brother."
"As I do you."
Doodle began to fade, and his brother hugged him one last time, ignoring the icy coldness that of jumping into a frozen lake.
Montresor, thinking the boy had gotten scared and fled, left for home. The brothers' meeting stayed forever clandestine.

PS- Did any HP fans catch the quote I used from OotP (which I also do not own)? Virtual cookies to anyone who did! R&R!