Prologue
He was pacing. People in the park who walked by probably thought he was crazy, because he had been pacing all night. But why wouldn't he? Tonight wasn't a normal night. He had a lot on his mind.
It was the second of November. Two days ago, he read the news. Not in the paper, like everyone else. He was sent a notification. He was in charge of two different cases at that time, and was told one was to be called off immediately.
Lord Voldemort was dead.
He had smiled at that message. The Dark Lord had been destroyed. The rest of the note disturbed him, however. He had been killed at the Potter's house. Even he had no idea where the house was – Fidelius Charm, he had been informed. But Voldemort had found his way in. And, apparently, had killed James and Lily Potter. That had saddened him deeply. James was a great man, and an even better Auror. His only match was Black.
He sighed at the thought. He continued pacing. Black. He would have been the Secret Keeper for Potter. And Black sold him out. Sirius did not seem like that kind of man. In fact, if anyone hated The Dark Lord, it was Sirius. But, desperate times, he supposed. If threatened, why would he not betray his friends? It was the unwarranted attack on Pettigrew and those Muggles that made no sense to him. Why would he snap like that? In public, nonetheless. He sighed again. He didn't need to think about Black. Not now. He was in Azkaban. It was done.
Then, there was the boy. James Potter's son – Harry, he recalled – had not only survived an attack from Voldemort. He had survived the Killing Curse, and supposedly, if Dumbledore was to be trusted, was instrumental in You-Know-Who's death. And really, who didn't trust Dumbledore?
He was glad to call off that case. The Aurors were in high hopes when the news of the Dark Lord's demise had spread. But, apparently, even though Voldemort was gone, and the Death Eaters were lining up for questioning, another evil would not sleep. And that was why he was here.
He was working on his second case.
He felt it, in the shadows. He was here.
"I need you to stop," he said, as calmly as he could.
He could almost feel the smirk in the man's voice. "And why would I do that?"
He kept pacing, not stopping his movement. "You owe me, that's why."
"Oh, right. That." The man in the shadows had not moved since his arrival. "Consider that debt paid."
"How do you suppose that?" He was angrier now. That was his trump card gone – a Life Debt. It had been a long time since he saved this man's life. He had spent many nights wondering if it was a mistake. Oh well, too late for that now. The question was, how was it paid?
"How did I repay you for saving my life?" That silky smooth voice seemed so calm, so nice – but he knew better. "I didn't kill you when you're time came."
That stopped his pacing. "Excuse me?"
"I said, I didn't kill you. Are you getting deaf from all the stress?" the shadow replied.
"Are you saying you would have killed me? That I was a target?"
The pale, thin man stepped from the shadows. "Of course. There is no family in my line of work."
"Work? You call this work? You're a hitman! My brother! My own flesh and blood! And you'd kill me?" He was staring at his almost unrecognizable brother. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Listen, Roland. Do I love you? Yes. But," he sighed, showing an emotion other than amused for the first time. "But, I'm not a hitman. Just a man who kills to help our world. I'm not a bad guy," he smiled sadly, "I'm just… A necessary evil."
"Oh, okay. Fair enough. Charges are cleared, then! Oh, people don't pay you, you just kill because you feel you need to? What the hell does that mean, Kris?"
He was livid. The Manor family have always believed in one thing – the law. Every male member of the family became Aurors when they were old enough. A family tradition, passed down from generation to generation. His father, Desmond, was always reminding them of the duty they had to follow. It was a tradition that Roland Manor was proud to continue.
And a tradition that Kris Manor broke.
His father was not happy with Kris. He seemed to have no job, no means of living. But he had a house he owned – or so he told them, they were never told where it was – and was fine on money. How he was, Roland never found out.
"I mean, brother," Kris interrupted his inner thoughts, reigniting his rage, "that I'll only ever kill those whose time is up. I never take the life of a mother who is raising a son. I never attack children. I'm no Dark Lord, Roland. I'm just a purger."
"Purger?! A purger, Kris?! You killed an Auror last month! You took out Jane Umbridge last night! You have no pattern, no reason. And I have to protect you! I don't tell anyone that it's you. And I knew it was you, from day one!"
Kris had left his mark on the first victim – Kristen Prewitt, bless her soul. She was ninety-three at the time, and was getting even more ill by the day. Roland had the pleasure of meeting her on more than one occasion. Her grandsons, Gideon and Fabian were in his group of Aurors, and was invited around for a cup of tea at least three times. She was a sweet lady, with only pleasant thoughts in her mind.
He remembered seeing her dead body, eyes wide open in shock, pale skin seemingly reflecting the moonlight through the window. He remembered the Prewett twins, crying over there murdered grandmother. And he had seen it.
A raven, carved into the floorboards. Perfectly drawn with a cutting charm, the raven was the symbol of one man, it could only be one man.
His brother, Kris.
"Ah yes, my symbol." A small laugh escaped Roland's brother's mouth. "The old woman was so easy to take out, I needed a challenge. So I left a clue. I did not expect you to be the one to see it. Of course you'd find it, brother. It was no challenge when you found it. The Raven and the Hawk, eh?"
He flinched. "No. Not anymore."
His brother smiled. "Oh? Shocking. You gave up." He gave a few tuts, shaking his head. "No wonder I'm much more successful than you."
"What? More successful? You're a killer! She was ninety-three, damn it! She was a sweet lady! She wasn't a threat to anyone! Why did you… Why her?"
A sad smile crept across Kris' face. "Her time was up."
"Don't be cryptic! Tell me the truth! Was Voldemort ordering you?"
A true laugh escaped his brother's thin lips. "Believe me, brother. The Dark lord feared me just as everyone else did. Tom Riddle feared the Raven. Because the Raven doesn't discriminate. Good, bad, light, dark. None of that matters. Only time."
A sigh and a smile crept onto Roland's face. "You've always loved riddles." He was reminiscing. The time was up, it was over. Tomorrow, he would tell his superiors – probably Moody – that his brother was the killer, that he knew the Raven.
"Indeed, I did. Tell me," he asked calmly, "do you think that the Aurors will believe you?"
"Why wouldn't they?" he asked with a huff.
"Two days since the Dark Lord has fallen, and all of a sudden you know who the Raven is?" He tilted his head. "Sounds like nothing more than an attempt to raise spirits, no? Especially since no one knows where I live. A wild goose chase, and using your brother as a scapegoat. Perhaps," he smirked, "you are the Raven?"
"Don't be dumb, Kris. Moody would –"
Kris interrupted, "Be paranoid. Trust me, Roland. You'd never convince him. And the others would follow suit."
Roland tried to rationalize his thought process in his head. But he was right. Moody would not trust him.
He sighed. "Then what should I do."
"That's easy," his brother smiled. "Let me do what is necessary."
"What? Let you keep killing harmless people?"
"Oh? Tristan Carrow was harmless? And Hadrian Lestrange?"
"You know what I mean, Kris!"
"And you misinterpreted me, brother. I didn't mean allow me to keep killing," he said, brandishing his wand. "I meant, the time has come."
"What are you –" he started, whipping his wand out.
"Expelliarmus!" his brother cried. "Your time has come. I'm so sorry. I saved you from me once. I had to, out of honour. Out of the Life Debt. But now… I do apologize, brother."
"Don't! Kris, I swear if you try to - "
"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light flew towards him, then it was all blank.
A/N: Thanks for reading this far! I appreciate it! And again, thanks for watching! Don't forget to review!
The main idea I had going into this was to completely randomize the Sorting. The only person who I chose the House of, was Harry. Everyone else was randomly placed in houses, based on an online randomizing system. After the Sorting, I'll post all the people and their houses.