poi·son
'poizən'
noun
a substance that, when introduced into or absorbed by a living organism, causes death or injury, esp. one that kills by rapid action even in a small quantity.
Poison was deadly.
It crept into your veins like a liquid burglar, smoking your blood with a thick black substance and brutally killing off your organs, one by one. You were filled with such unmatchable pain as your liver shut itself down, then your lungs, and after you stopped breathing, you began to see black and swirling dots and dashes in a code you could not understand. The poison snaked through your brain and forced you in your in-oxidized state to try and fix everything, to try and send out cells to neutralize the threat, but by then, it was far too late, as the deadly parasite found its way deep into your heart. That last faithful part of your body was turned off, your heart beat slowing until it completely stopped in a climatic pump.
And then you were no more.
You were a slowly freezing corpse lying on the ground, blood turned black in your veins as the poison stopped flowing once the blood stopped pumping. Your pale face was lined with cold sweat, and you lacked your previous vivaciousness. Your soul was disappearing into the clouds far above as you were sent to heaven or hell prematurely.
Meanwhile, a glass of red wine was lying on its side across the cherry table, the glass cracked slightly and the red drink slowly draining onto the floor in heavy drops. The only noise in the dark room was the echoing drip of the wine spilling into a puddle on the floor, near your fallen cadaver.
It was like a symbol of something to come.
The man lying on the ground was the king, his glass his throne. The darkness in the room retreated to the corners as moonlight shone through the hastily closed curtains, and onto the 'King's light hair, illuminating the blank face. A puddle of glossy scarlet liquor slowly inched itself closer and closer to the man, before pooling around the nearly white hair in a sorrowful imitation of a halo.
(You were floating above your body slumped on the floor, you had no solid form and no colour to you, and when you tried to scream, the only thing to come out was an unearthly wail. You couldn't make any sense of it. But then you were flying, up, up, and away, and you knew no more.)
The man's body was frozen in time; the key to bring him back was lost. His poisoned wine was filled with glass shards, and the echoing 'CLINK' the glass had made when the man desperately swiped at in with his paling hand was just disappearing as the moon rose higher and higher, ignorant of the dead man's trouble.
And then nothing moved. There were no sounds, no crashes, and no drops of wine falling melodiously off the table to form a blood red barrier around the man.
The man was the King, his glass was his throne. But then what was the liquid?
(What is this riddle's answer?)
The unknown male's death was a quiet affair. Not many people noticed his passing, and those who did were more joyous then wrecked, the fools were nearly bouncing in anticipation on who would receive the money and fine house in the dead blond's will. He wasn't loved, he wasn't missed; he was just a simple soul that died that night, with no wife or children to pass on his legacy.
"He died by a heart attack," Officials were saying. His death wasn't reported until two days after, when neighbors noticed his lights were on for forty eight hours straight. The pale man was found, crumpled on the floor of his study, a shattered wine glass on the dark wooden desk, and old slightly dried wine encircling the man's upper body and staining his clothes. His eyes were wide and glassy, mouth slightly propped open with dried drool on the corner of his mouth, and his chest was not moving, forever staying still.
A few weeks passed as the distant cousin that received the house came and went, throwing out the man's things carelessly as he measured the doorways and rooms to see how his furniture would fit. The bank gleefully took over the dead man's bank account, adding more money to their steadily growing collection.
Neighbours gradually forgot about the man, the people constantly moving to and from, or dying themselves, or sometimes, because they just did not care.
The man was like a picture, treasured by the few who held him dear, and for others, he meant nothing. He was a photograph, like all the rest of the creatures on Earth, and when it was time for him to disappear, the camera deleted his picture, and 'POOF!', he was gone, gradually forgotten as his photo was lost in time.
His death was noted; it was not investigated. He was dismissed, and the poisoned wine in the underground cellar was passed on to the cousin, who resealed the bottle and gave it to a newly wedded couple.
They were now the King and Queen, the bottle was their throne. But what was the poison inside the bottle?
Unlike the man before, this couple was well loved by all who knew them. They were kind and welcoming to nearly all, and were considered 'good citizens' of their society. The wife was seven months pregnant, with a temperament rivaling that of a dragon, and the husband a black haired man with a passion for law and order. They lived in a large manor in the tiny village of Godric's Hollow.
They spent most of their time decorating the home, eagerly looking around the town for baby toys and clothes, and reading stories to the little child in its mother's stomach. They were always cheerful, the young parents, and even when the husband had to spend many hours slaving at his job in the Ministry, nothing could damper their mood.
They had a healthy boy three months later, and spoiled him greatly. He had a large room with white and blue furniture, just like he wanted. He got all the toys he had ever dreamed of, and then some, and he could do nothing wrong in his parents eyes.
Eighteen years later, the once happy little family had grown to five people, three kids and their parents, and the oldest son was relaxing in the house with three of his friends while the son's parents were out at a school reunion.
"Hey, do your folks have any liquor?" one of them asked, a tall lanky black haired boy with light freckles sprinkled all over his face.
"Yeah, but they told me I'm not allowed to drink any when they're not here." The son told his friend, staring at him with dark brown eyes from his living room's couch.
"Well, they aren't here to tell you that you can't do it, right?" The dark haired male smiled as he tried to get the other boys to agree with him. "A little sip of it won't hurt, and they'll never tell, now will they?"
It was true, the parents of the teen rarely drank and usually only had it out at parties, and if they only had a little his parents would not notice…
"…Fine," The black haired teen relented, getting up from the couch to grab the wine that his parents hid in the cupboard. "But if we get in trouble I'm blaming you!"
"They'll never tell! Now let's have some of the finest!"
"I don't know about this…"
"Don't worry, everything will be fine!"
Police sirens echoed in the night as loud sobs and screams were heard from the large house in the small town. Four fallen figures were found on the ground or on the couch, eyes wide and devoid of all life. One of the eighteen year old's arms was clutching his chest, directly over his heart, two were lying on the floor with glass shards stuck into their arms where their wine glasses had fallen and smashed into them, and the last one was sitting on a chair near the kitchen table, his head resting on the piece of furniture in front of him with noodle arms covering his ears.
"Ma'am, please, control yourself. This is a crime scene and we need to make sure the evidence remains the way it was at the time of death." The police officer tried to tell the frantic mother.
"No! That's my baby!" tears streamed down her red face as the woman tried desperately to make her way into the house. "That's my son in there! What happened to him!? Why is he on the floor and not moving!?"
"Madame, I think you should calm down-"
The woman let out wail as she sank to her knees, and sobbed into her arms as more police officers arrived to examine the bodies.
"The teenagers," officials finally said. "had alcohol poisoning. They drank far too much and died from overdose."
As soon as they could, once the funeral was done, the now family of four packed up their bags and were getting ready to sell their house, moving in with the mother's sister on the other side of the country after making sure that the house was spotless and not a trace of their bad memories were left. Meanwhile, only minutes after the mournful family had left in their over packed Toyota, a police officer dropped off the inspected bottle of wine the teenagers were drinking, it's lid reattached with a simple note on the top saying, 'We wish you the best'.
The real estate agent, who was showing around a family looking at the house, peered at the wine bottle curiously, misunderstanding the message and believing the bottle came from the previous family wishing the ones to buy their house the best.
When the house finally sold a week later, the real estate handed the bottle to the elderly couple and said simply, "The owners wish you the best."
The boys fell into the trap, and instead of the King and Queen, the poison caught the Jacks and Jokers.
Now the deadly substance was held by the couple, but they were not the King and Queen, no.
And so the bottle waited, like a tiger ready to pounce on its victim, for the next Royal to fall.
"Dorea, stop worrying. It's just a small Ministry party. I'll be fine on my own." Cassiopeia told her sister as the younger one tried to persuade her sister to go home with her. "Besides, I still need to talk to the Minister for Father, and now is the perfect time to do it." Dorea still looked unconvinced.
"But-"
"No buts, Dorea. I'll be fine, and if it makes you feel better, I'll be back at home within the hour."
Dorea's face lightened at Cassiopeia's proposal. "Promise?"
The black haired woman laughed, a light and airy sound, as she nodded at her sibling. "I promise. Now, get out of here, Mother looks about ready to leave without you."
Dorea let out a small shriek as she watched her mother stalk over to the fireplace, and she quickly fast walked over to their mother. "Thank you, Sister. Remember your promise!"
Cassiopeia smiled until her sister was out of sight, before sighing deeply as she made her way out from the busy ballroom and into the chilly spring air on the balcony. She ignored the goose bumps that rose on her bare pale arms, and instead reached into her handbag to pull out one of the handy muggle-made items- a cigarette.
The Black witch lit the small stick with a light 'incendio' and smiled when she puffed the grey smoke into the dark night sky. She looked up at the stars shining brightly, a comet or two flying straight over her head and disappearing into the supernova of planets and suns.
"Excuse me, Miss?"
Cassiopeia was startled from her trance when a young waiter appeared next to her, holding out a glass of wine nervously. "Would you enjoy a glass of our finest wine? It's the last of it, and it will help keep you warm…"
The grey eyed woman blinked twice, before smiling charmingly and accepting the glass. "Ah, that sounds nice. Thank you."
The man bowed gracefully before stalking back inside, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
Cassiopeia took her cigarette out of her mouth and crushed the butt of it on the marble railing, before tossing it into the dark green foliage below.
She looked at the scarlet drink, before raising the wine glass to her lips as taking a long sip. A bit of the wine slipped out and onto the white tile beneath her feet, but Cassiopeia paid no attention as drained the cup dry and delicately wiped her lips on the napkin that was provided with the drink.
Her world slowly got hazier and hazier as her sinuses were drowned out. Cassiopeia panicked- she could hold much more liquor then that, but why was it feeling like she was being burned from the inside?- and cast 'Anapneo' trying to get rid of the feeling of her throat constricting. She wondered if she had been caught in a 'Crucio', as her stomach started dissolving, and her heart started to beat irregularly beating.
The beautiful woman fell onto the balcony's white tiled floor, her wine glass shattering on impact and impaling her face, making shallow cuts that slowly bled into the drops of wine that had fallen when she was drinking. But Cassiopeia could not feel the cuts, the pain of falling to the floor, or the feeling of her brain shutting itself down.
Cassiopeia Black was dead, and she would never keep her promise to Dorea.
The next Royal has fallen, an Empress this time. The last of the poison was drained in her system.
"A mysterious death," Aurors were saying, for the poison was undetected in the drink.
What is the answer to the riddle, do you know?
What was the liquid?
(Poison.)
Quidditch League: Using prompts: draining, camera, supernova, and using 'poison' as the first word and the last word.
For the Hogwarts Competition run by the always fabulous Uni:
Astronomy:
Write about a character that has a name of a star or constellation
Riddle, balcony, handbag.
Charms:
Write about three spells
Parasite, comet, white.
I don't own Harry Potter.
I'm really happy with this story, I wrote it all today and it's actually okay by my standards and within the time limit and everything so yay.
Also, poison.
A riddle.
What was the liquid, do you know?
The people who poisoned the first man were his distant family, they wanted his house and some of his money, but the bank took control before they could, so they were just left with the house.
The man who got the house didn't know that the bottle of wine was poisoned, he thought it was just the wine glass, so he sealed it up again (it was good, old wine, you had to save it) and then a little while after, he gave it as a wedding gift to the couple.
Also, congratulations Jostanos for getting the poison right! :D