Orion's eyes snapped open vehemently. A cold slither of hatred came to them and their murky brown color. Yes, he was annoyed. How couldn't he be? This had been the closest to sleep that he'd had for a month. His eyes had closed; his body had gone mostly limp. The wand in his hand remained on his palm, not squeezed tightly between fingers but resting there, balanced easily, teetering slightly on the edge from time to time but never falling. Maybe the wand knew that its master needed sleep, and that, if there was a slightest of changes in anything - the slightest of clatters as the wooden wand hit the ground or maybe even just as it fell from his hand and gravity took action - Orion would awaken from what minuscule world of slumber and nonexistence he'd been ushered into.
But that didn't matter now. Orion had been awakened by some other, inexplicable force. His senses heightened, his ears perked, he rose gruntingly from his chair. It was a black chair, almost fitting. The silk had been worn to a thin, ragged slither. It was an easy fix - one that Orion had no time for. He didn't rise from it enough to let Kreecher even take a look at it, and when he did, it was for minutes.
After a long, hunched sit in it nearly every day and every hour, the cushion had sank into a flattened dip. There were a few crumbs lingering on the surface, perhaps waiting to be cleaned but never getting that luxurious end to life. Patches were torn in the armrests from where Orion had dug his fingers in, almost as though he was anticipating something or trying to hold on a bit tighter to wakefulness. Sometimes a few drips of stinking saliva would find their way to the chair when he did get close to beloved and dreaded sleep.
He stood stiffly. There was more work to be done, more things to sort out, more things to finish.
Orion fingers wrapped tightly around his wand, so tightly that, for a moment, his yellowed, cracked fingernails dug into then. He licked his parched lips with his equally dry tongue - stood erect as he watched, waited, and listened.
His eyes widened manically; their murky color had brightened into something almost excited - or perhaps just utterly insane with insomnia.
There it was again!
A thin whisper of noises came from behind the door - chattering and teasing and possibly even having a jolly good time. Orion frowned at this. His grizzled features looked completely animalistic when set in a frown, almost like an angered animal. A wolf, a bear, a jumpy old fox. But he was also intent, hearing things that no one else would have been able to figure out - sounds from years ago that he could peg to anyone that he'd known.
Then a flat word came out of his mouth, almost croaked out: "Regulus."
Orion hunched again, even more than he already was. He slid the door open on its rusty hinges. He cursed the door, thumped it with his wand as consequence for its untactful loudness, and then slowly shuffled forwards, one foot in front of the other in a quiet, barefooted stride.
He wondered how Regulus had gotten in again. The world should have been closed out now. Every day, he shot spell after spell to reinforce the barrier to maximum strength. But then, only his son could get in, because he knew just how to do everything. He probably came right in and reinforced the barrier to make everything safe again. A perfect son.
Orion just needed to catch him in the act.
He licked his parched lips with an equally dry tongue like a dog anticipating fresh meat - potent new blood to lap down in a satisfying gulp. Every intruder got caught. It was Orion's job. Maybe he was Orion the Watch Dog. It seemed almost fitting.
He pushed away such frivolous things and held his wand at ready. The hunt was almost over. He was closing in. He could feel it in his bones. This time, Regulus would be trapped! There would be no escaping Orion's clutches - there never was. This would be the end. This would be the only end that Orion wanted.
And he leaped, his eyes dancing like flaming coals. He was sure that he saw Regulus standing there, waiting, watching. Was he glad to finally be caught? Was he glad that now, he would finally be in his father's clutches? Or would Regulus leave again?
Orion couldn't even think of what he'd have to do then.
"I know you're there!" He turned from one side to the next, shaggy pieces of black and greasy hair slapping into his face as he did. His face contorted into a brutish snarl. "Come out, now. Be a good boy and come out!"
There wasn't even an insignificant rustle as reply. The whole house was silent with steaming, conflicting terror. The kind of terror felt by a person who was around someone who was insane - but that insane person didn't know that they were insane. The kind of terror that the normal person wanted to keep under wraps so that the insane one wouldn't turn on them, furiously denying any semblance of insanity. It was a feeble kind of terror.
Now Orion pounced again, his eyes furiously wide and locked on something beside him. Some noise had alerted him. A small, tiny noise. His mind shrieked jarringly with alerts, anger, fogginess, a dire need for sleep. He ignored it all.
His body fell on something small. He grinned, saw Regulus, knew that everything would be okay as long as he could get through to the boy... He pierced the wand into his son's arm.
Then he embraced Regulus, mumbling incoherent, almost happy things...
There was only the sound of a woman sobbing and a silent house.
A black rat writhing on the tip of a wand and a shower of crimson blood falling to the floor.
A mad old man hugging a rat with wide, glazed eyes as it met a slow, suffocating, torturous death.
