A nine year old Caith watches as his father tortures a muggle family, a young girl and her parents. "Dad, stop it!" He knows he's powerless; this fact haunts him night and day. "Please! Don't do this!" Soon, all three muggles will be nothing but mindless shells.
"It's a birthday present. You should enjoy it."
Tears form in his eyes. "Dad, no!"
Voldemort places a fatherly hand on Caith's shoulder. "I want you to land the final blow."
He can't be serious...
"Kill them, now, Caith! Watch their lives slip away!"
Caith's body shakes with fury as he pulls away. "Get off me, you ass hole!" Voldemort's eyes flare up. Caith takes his wand, snaps it in two, throws the pieces in his father's face, then runs. He forces his legs to move as fast as they will take him.
In the next week, Caith paid dearly for his outbreak. It was called a mere time-out, but the week was spent in a small dark room with no windows, not even a light. The only comfort he was allowed was a sink and a small cup to drink from. No food, no bed, not even a blanket. To make matters worse, there was constantly a dementor standing just outside the door, sapping any comforting thought that might enter his head.
He had still more pain, as there was a struggle getting him where he is, now. He had wanted freedom from his father's grasp, so when Crabbe and Goyle were sent to retrieve him, he ran. He broke his right arm ducking under a stunning spell, but was still captured all too easily. After all, a nine year old unarmed boy is certainly no match for two large thugs with wands.
He tried to keep his arm as still as possible, which wasn't too complex, considering he had little reason to move at all. He thought of how easy it would be to mend his arm, if only he hadn't snapped his wand. He could probably escape this room, as well. He took the form of an albino fox only to sleep, still wishing to keep his animagus form a safe secret from his father.
On his seventh night in the darkness, Caith felt the absence of his cold guard. The door was unlocked, so he cautiously left the room, feeling weak and dizzy from lack of nutrition. The light flooded his eyes painfully. What's going on? Where is everybody?
He walked through the halls, wishing he could mend his arm right, the bone seemed to be growing back together oddly. He knew every corner of this building. He walked down a hall to the door of a room that the death eaters talk in. There's a fireplace that's always lit, it's where everyone comes in using floo powder. He put his ear to the door. Two of the death eaters were talking nervously. Caith was able to make out a clear fact: Voldemort was gone.
He sat there for a few seconds, not sure how he felt about this. His father disappeared. He couldn't have disappeared... Caith reached over his left shoulder, to the shoulder blade. He can't reach the mark, but he knows it's not doing anything... he hasn't felt anything from it since last night... He smiles slightly. Maybe this means I can get away from him!
The pop of an apparation is heard from inside the room with the two death eaters. Caith blinks, slightly confused, the death eaters don't apparate here... An auror! He waits until the sounds of struggle subside, knowing these particular death eaters won't be any match for anyone sent here, then goes in. He suddenly realizes the struggle wasn't quite over as a stunning spell misses the auror in front of him and hits him straight in the chest. In between his need for food and the pain in his arm, this new wound is a definite bad thing. He starts to wobble. The death eater who fired the spell stares, horrified. The auror binds him. Caith falls to the ground, unconscious.
Caith wakes lying in bed. He first notices the horribly white cleanliness. It makes him uneasy... it's so unfamiliar to him. Next he notices the absence of pain in his right arm; someone healed it. He sits up, then notices the fact that his left wrist is magically bound to the bed post. The auror took me... As his eyes adjust to the light, he sees that he is in a private room, but there is a woman bustling around.
She turns to him and smiles. "I was beginning to wonder if you would be up in time..." He blinks, confused by her statement. She shakes her head. "No matter, you're up now." She takes out her wand. "I imagine you're rather hungry?" He nods, he hasn't eaten since before his fight with his father, though he doesn't feel as hungry as he should.. They must have filled his stomach using magic. She uses a spell and hands him a bowl of oatmeal. "Here, Caith."
He takes it. "You know my name?"
She nods. "Few don't, deary." Not wanting to stay on this line of conversation, she adds "Now eat up, before it gets cold."
He eats, normally he wouldn't take food from a stranger, but he reasons that she could do just about anything she wanted anyway, and his stomach longed for the food.
She sighs as he finishes the bowl. "I apologize for the binding... it seems so harsh..."
Caith hangs his head... "I imagine I'm not the only one who's injured, here... and I haven't been very... polite... in the past. I understand."
"But you're so young, you couldn't have wanted..."
"I still did all those things..."
She sighs heavily.
"May... may I ask you something...?"
"Yes, of course."
"What's going to happen to me?"
She's silent.
Fear fills his voice. "Please, I wanna know..."
"I'm sorry, dear. I don't know that. No one does, just yet."