Disclaimer: This story is highly derivative, with ideas and names taken from both the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling and the Mage: The Ascension role-playing game published by White Wolf studios. This is obviously not meant to infringe on anyone's copyright or ownership of anything, it's just a work of fan fun. Please leave a review, especially constructive criticism.
Prologue: Something's Rotten in the State of New York
Erasmus Dorian was a very happy man.
He was sitting in a hole-in-the-wall Italian place in the East Village, surrounded by his classmates decked out in flimsy black robes and caps, ordering expensive bottles of wine. Today was the day to celebrate. No longer were they Mr. Ricardi and Ms. Jameson and so forth; they now carried the title of "Doctor".
Erasmus was popular among his classmates. He lived by himself in a studio apartment in Brooklyn somewhere and cleaned a Pentex laboratory to cover his tuition. Though he wasn't the top student in the class, he was bright and often stayed after class to help his struggling classmates. He was relatively handsome, with dark brown hair and soft blue eyes. He enjoyed Impressionism, classical music, and Sherlock Holmes novels. His British accent drove the local girls wild. He was voted by his classmates the "Class Mensch", a Yiddish word which, in New York-lish, means "a good man."
A smiling waitress with a nametag that read "Susanne" scampered about the crowd, taking orders and now and again winking at Erasmus. Her hair was dark brown and permed in the latest style, her nails manicured a soft pink. She seemed to hold her hand out more than usual to show off a sparkling engagement ring she had received just a half hour before. Everyone was smiling and laughing and clapping, though a loud thump came from the direction of the closest window. Erasmus paid no attention to it, his attention fixated on Susanne, though the rhythmic banging began to register to him. 'This isn't supposed to happen…' he thought.
There was a crash and a flutter of brown wings as an owl glided through, settling itself on Erasmus' chest and pecking lightly at his face. He bolted up, sending the owl flapping to the dresser. A letter slid onto his lap. The room was dark, his pajamas sticky with sweat and the king bed empty beside him. Erasmus' eyes widened as he shakily opened the envelope. His dark-circled eyes met his reflection's in the large mirror facing the bed. His salt-and-pepper hair was thinning on top. He grabbed a pair of reading glasses waiting on top of A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. He clapped twice, the lights flickering on due to an ingenious device Susanne received from her mother one Christmas. He blinked as his eyes adjusted, settling on the small, harsh script in the center of the paper.
Your father is dead. You are next.