I do not own the Harry Potter Franchise. They belong to J.K Rowling and probably some other people.

Happy Independence Day, America! And every other country, happy fourth day of July, I hope it was pleasant.

Here's the second part of the last chapter. More to come soon!

Pain. Loads and loads of pain. Writhing on the forest floor screaming for help, but none will ever come. The dark figure above me laughs cruelly. Then I feel it. Something is in me, no I am something. I feel anger and hate towards everyone and everything. My insides turn black. For a moment I'm still and the pain is gone, but then it's replaced by something new.

Hunger.

Orion jumped out of sleep. He was sweating profusely and could not calm down his heart. Deep breath. He breathed deeply three times in a row, got up from his bed, and headed into the kitchen of the Black house.

This was an absolute disaster. As if a missing sister wasn't bad enough, Orion had started having these dreams. A part of him knew that it was the rest of his missing memory and he should go immediately to Dumbledore, but then the other part of him wanted to keep the dreams to himself. He told himself that he wanted to focus on finding Nyx before focusing on some nightmares, but deep down he knew the truth was that he did not want to face the implications of the memory.

Alcohol. Orion grinned as he pulled the scotch from the kitchen shelf. At least Sirius keeps a decent stock of this stuff. Maybe self-medication runs in our blood. As he poured the liquid he noticed his hands shaking. Cigarette. He reached his hand above the shelf and grasped a small pack. Good. They had survived Molly's most recent sweep. He sat down, lit up, and enjoyed his two favorite vices hoping it would clear his head. Or at least make him care a little less about what was in his head.

Truthfully, he was empty without Nyx. They were not joined at the hip, but they always knew where the other one was. Not knowing where she was was like missing a body part. He could function no better without Nyx than he could without an arm or leg.

Nyx. He took another puff of his cigarette and laid his head down on the table. Where the hell are you?