the bodies had been found in the farthest reaches of the slytherin dungeons where the passageways tapered off into dripping cold caverns and inky psudo-midnight dispair. they had died there, in that lightless chill, alone and scared and without comfort. their pale corpses rotted away quietly for weeks, so deep in the bowels of the school that it had taken nearly two months for them to be found.
seventeen in all, they had each been a slytherin in the end.
he took them one by one. slowly. it had been a methodical process, calculated in the cruelty of the acts themselves. he spent his time watching, appreciating them from afar, selecting them for their talents, their anger, their pure pure blood. the first few had slipped away from life messily, as he had seized their limp, nearly lifeless limbs in his strong hands, breaking their bones in half so viciously that he could hear the ivory beneath their meat cracking and splintering deliciously. the ones who still had a measure of waking consciousness moaned and gurgled wetly in pain as he did this, and their last whimpers of white life echoed on the cold stones, coming back to his ears as a dog would return to it's master.
he felt little as he slaughtered them, finding that there was no room for cogniscent thought; he was driven by something greater than himself, seduced into his actions by something larger and more grand that simple pleasure, dispite however much he liked it.
this would influence the lines of time itself, and that reason alone was enough to make him do it.
but oh, he did like it. he would marvel in the dark at how wonderful it made him feel to hurt them, as he crouched among their bodies, hiding in the tangle of their twisted arms and legs.
"please," one girl had begged. her nose was running down her lips in thick robes and she slobered pathetically, spitting as she whispered. "please just let me go. i want to see my mother... i'll never see my mother again," she sobbed, trembling.
he smiled as she gurgled a heartbreaking plea, "i just want to see my mum..."
when he crushed her neck with his boots he laughed, stomping one slam after another, driving her head into the stones with ungodly force.
seventeen in all, they had each been a slytherin in the end.
he took them one by one. slowly. it had been a methodical process, calculated in the cruelty of the acts themselves. he spent his time watching, appreciating them from afar, selecting them for their talents, their anger, their pure pure blood. the first few had slipped away from life messily, as he had seized their limp, nearly lifeless limbs in his strong hands, breaking their bones in half so viciously that he could hear the ivory beneath their meat cracking and splintering deliciously. the ones who still had a measure of waking consciousness moaned and gurgled wetly in pain as he did this, and their last whimpers of white life echoed on the cold stones, coming back to his ears as a dog would return to it's master.
he felt little as he slaughtered them, finding that there was no room for cogniscent thought; he was driven by something greater than himself, seduced into his actions by something larger and more grand that simple pleasure, dispite however much he liked it.
this would influence the lines of time itself, and that reason alone was enough to make him do it.
but oh, he did like it. he would marvel in the dark at how wonderful it made him feel to hurt them, as he crouched among their bodies, hiding in the tangle of their twisted arms and legs.
"please," one girl had begged. her nose was running down her lips in thick robes and she slobered pathetically, spitting as she whispered. "please just let me go. i want to see my mother... i'll never see my mother again," she sobbed, trembling.
he smiled as she gurgled a heartbreaking plea, "i just want to see my mum..."
when he crushed her neck with his boots he laughed, stomping one slam after another, driving her head into the stones with ungodly force.