Parts (57-61)
IV
Chapter 10
A Very Merry Christmas
Part 1: At Hogwarts
Atticus Ashain jolted awake with a start, not sure what he'd been dreaming about. He was at his desk in the classroom, he'd moved there from his office to give him more warning if either of his kids came to him while he was reading through things he didn't want them to see. He must've fallen asleep there because sunlight was streaming through the windows, bathing him in dawn light devoid of warmth. His head was throbbing with a dull resounding ache, his eyes burning from fatigue as if he hadn't slept at all. He had only been expecting a much earlier and much ruder awakening, his children had apparently decided to have a lie in on the one day you expected them to be up early for. Not that it really mattered, Christmas was their day and they could sleep in if they wanted too.
He'd expected to have gone to sleep in his bed too but it didn't surprise him he'd fallen asleep, it was a good thing he'd gotten their presents wrapped beforehand. He was completely exhausted recently, he thought he was coming down with something. His body ached constantly and he had no strength, he'd nearly fainted a couple of times and just had to sit or lie in wait until he felt he could move without a blanket of blackness being thrown over his vision. He didn't feel right and his head constantly throbbed, incessant pain that ranged from niggling to agonizing. It might be a good thing he was so exhausted because he didn't think he could sleep with it otherwise, you'd think a break from classes and marking homework would actually be better for his health. But no. Nothing helped with any of his symptoms, in fact Marigold claimed he was in perfect physical health and it must all be in his head. Atticus knew better though, he wasn't imagining being ill. Just because he looked bizarrely fine and less like himself all the time, it didn't mean he actually was fine. Unless he was going mad. Going mad also wasn't fine.
"Merry Christmas," a familiar voice offered cheerfully and he glanced up to see Calderon coming over to him with three presents and a card.
"Merry Christmas," Atticus muttered back tiredly, Calderon's expression immediately turned to one of concern and for one hopeful second, Atticus thought maybe he looked ill to have a witness it wasn't all in his head, "What?"
"Do you hate me now too?" Calderon asked him seriously, sounding very much like a child who'd had his feelings hurt as his lights flashed around him.
"Why would I suddenly hate you?" Atticus wondered incredulously, mad Calderon may be but he'd developed a lot of respect for the assistant.
"It happens," Calderon told him sadly.
"I don't hate you, Calderon. I'm just really tired," Atticus assured him, knowing Calderon could be sensitive, "Even if I don't look it."
"You really don't," Calderon confirmed as he tilted his head to one side to look at him curiously, "At least maybe with Christmas over after today you can get some rest before the term starts."
"Here's to hoping."
"I just came by to give you these, for you and the kids. If you aren't going to refuse them."
"Why would I suddenly refuse gifts?" Atticus wondered again while Calderon put the three neatly wrapped bundles on the desk.
"It happens," Calderon repeated, still sadly.
"Well thank you. I already gave you your present."
"Yes," Calderon nodded as his lights swirled with renewed confidence as he turned to leave, "I'll get to opening things after I give Ruby his present. Hopefully, I should still have time."
"See you at breakfast," Atticus waved a hand in farewell but the assistant stopped to look at him, his lights dimming.
"You won't. I have to get back to the Ministry for the next potion testing, I'll see you whenever I get back," Calderon told him, waving a hand and continuing on before Atticus could reply.
Atticus frowned after him, thinking it rather unfair that he should have to be experimented on at Christmas. And odd. As an Auror, he'd always worked on Christmas because he'd rather work than face spending the holiday alone and miserable because he had no one at the time. The Ministry had always been skeletal on those days, only the bare minimum of people necessary worked on holidays. He thought it was probably because of the war, that always increased productivity. He shook his head of it in sympathy for Calderon and looked back to his desk, he hadn't even finished looking through yesterday's mail as he'd been doing last night. He might as well if his children still weren't up.
He sighed unhappily and decided to go through the cards instead of... the other thing, mostly from other professors - Grant not amongst them - or a few from students - such as Scorpius - but one caught his eye. He hadn't noticed the handwriting, he hadn't paid any attention to the other mail he'd received after seeing the other thing. It was his father's handwriting and naturally on expensive paper, sealed with the Ashain family crest. Atticus ran his hands over it, feeling the unmistakable card it held through the paper as opposed to folded over paper from a letter. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before tossing the card into the air, withdrawing his wand in an instant and incinerating it.
Magic sapped his strength and he dropped his wand onto the desk, clutching at his head as it felt like it was burning too. It was worth it though, he had no interest in mending fences with his father. He didn't care how crazy Aurelius was, you couldn't disown someone then more than twenty years later decide to make amends just because it was revealed that Brutus wasn't dead after all. You needed to repair bridges when they were burning, not long after it had burned away completely and the pathway abandoned. It was too late, far too late. The relationship with his father was dead and gone, there was nothing to say as he'd told Aurelius just a few months ago.
"Daddy, I-" Antonius started to say but stopped, Atticus looked up sleepily and wondered if he'd actually fallen asleep. Until he noticed why Antonius had stopped, he was looking at the other thing. Atticus tried to hide it but it was far too late, Antonius flicked a gaze devoid of emotion to him, "Mum wants a divorce?"
"I erm... yes," Atticus offered, realizing it was pointless to lie when Antonius had just seen the divorce papers with the note stuck to it saying 'if you really love me, please sign these.' In the papers, she willingly gave him full custody of the children without any interest in visitation rights and no alimony. Antonius nodded slowly in understanding.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Atticus insisted, both because it was the truth and he didn't want Antonius to feel guilty. He could only blame himself, he should have told her about magic long before they had children, before they even got married. She might have had a better time accepting it when the Wizarding world wasn't in the midst of a war or not, in which case he'd probably have died already and the kids wouldn't exist so none of them would have to worry about it. Antonius just shrugged and he opened his mouth to speak again, he hadn't meant for him to find out on Christmas like that because he hadn't even processed it yet but he was interrupted.
"Daddy! Daddy! It's Christmas! Daddy! Tony! Dog!" Cassia called excitedly as she bounded over to them, Antonius silently hid the papers before his sister could see them as she hugged them each, even the dog who was beside Antonius.
"It's Antonius and 'the dog' has a name," Antonius corrected her stiffly but it didn't stifle Cassia's grin.
"I knows it. There is presents!"
"Really?" Atticus wondered in mock surprise and she nodded enthusiastically, "Well come on then, let's get them open because if you wait past next year they become next year's gifts."
"Really?" Cassia gasped in surprise and amazement as they headed back to the living quarters, standing made his head spin and he could barely nod as he tried to focus until he could sit down on the couch with a view of the tree and presents, "That's amazaling. I didn'ter know that."
"Well know you know the secret," Atticus told her and she giggled at being in on something before going over to get her presents, he forced his stinging eyes to stay open and focus. What was wrong with him? The dog lazily climbed up beside him and Antonius surprisingly hugged him tightly, he dropped his voice to a whisper, "Try not to worry about it, eh?"
"Okay," Antonius whispered and nodded against his shoulder, Atticus felt a wave of relief and hugged his son tighter, "Merry Christmas, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you too," Atticus promised and kissed his son's head lightly, "Merry Christmas."
"He doesn't count as a person."
"Loser."
"Freak."
"Freak! Freak! You're a freak!"
He was lying on the ground in pain, scared and confused by what had happened. He'd stopped crying because no one was coming to help him, everywhere the potion or heat had touched him burned in pain which was mostly on the left side of his body and back. Even aside from that, bits of hard metallic cauldron had struck him - some were still stabbing him - as well as the force of being thrown back. Now that he wasn't crying, he could hear something. A rasping, rattling breathe that made him think of a scary monster lying in wait. Where was his Mummy? He swallow his tears fearfully and lifted his head, the room was a ruin of things all tossed aside or eaten away where the potion had touched them in the explosion. And he was wrong, it was his mother who was breathing strangely, lying a few feet away.
"Mummy, I'm hurted. Please help me," he whimpered.
"It's your fault, you know?" a sickly sweet voice echoed, "It's in our records. A selfish bratty child couldn't leave his mother alone to let her work, you distracted her and she died because of it."
"Freak! Freak! You're a freak!"
"Ugly."
"Disgusting."
"I'd rather peel of my own skin and eat it then look at him."
He was sitting at home now, sitting on a chair where his little legs didn't reach the floor and the string to a big red balloon in his hands. He sat beside a circular table with a big chocolate cake decorated with seven candles, other balloons were blown up around the room and tied down to things. There was a big birthday banner, streamers and a small pile of presents resting on the counter. All for him. He wasn't looking at that though, he was looking at the door waiting for someone to come just as he had for the past few hours. It was quiet. Silent. He could hear the clock on the wall, each tick audibly over the lack of nose. Each tick an echoing reminder that another second had gone by without anyone coming. It was getting dark now, he could see the dusk stretching out the shadows in the room.
"No one's coming," his father said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and a lone tear started to roll down his pockmarked cheek, "Give it up."
"Friends?" the woman's laughter broke the silence of the room, "Please, that requires affection for one other. Why would anyone want to be friends with you? You have no friends."
"Freak! Freak! You're a freak!"
"Worthless."
"Hideous."
"You suck, Latimer."
His mother said nothing, just kept breathing shakily. He tried to get up but cried out in pain, he couldn't. His knees had been snapped in the wrong angle in the explosion, he lay there trying to think of what to do. It could've been minutes or hours before he thought of a solution, he reached out a trembling hand ahead of him and slowly managed to drag himself closer to his precious mother. He moaned in pain and bit his quivering lip against the tears but he had to go to her, his progress was very slow but eventually he managed to make it to her through the pain. He gagged when he saw her, holes in her clothes revealed horrific patches of scabby, charred flesh and she too had pieces of cauldron stabbing her. She had a particular large jagged piece in her stomach, watery red blood was pooling from it. Some of her limbs were twisted in the wrong angle, something sharp and white was jutting out of her elbow. But worst of all was her face, the side not touching the blood was so badly burned he could see teeth through her jaw and her eye lid had been melted away, a gooey pool where her eye should be.
He couldn't speak, he was too horrified. He threw up onto the carpet.
"Healers say she would've been in agony, excruciating agony," the woman's voice told him seriously, "It took her hours to die, hours. What kind of sick depraved child puts their mother through that?"
"Freak! Freak! You're a freak!"
"Gross."
"Grotesque."
"Everyone hates you! Go to hell and die."
He was standing in a field, they were doing gym class in school. His father refused to let him stay home again from pretending to be ill, sick of his lying to avoid the cruel kids who made his days a living hell. He wasn't lying this time though. He felt like he was on fire and not even the icy wind helped, his shorts and t shirt were glued to his flesh from his own sweat. He couldn't focus, his head felt like a lump of rock that was difficult to keep up, his eyelids drooping a little more every second. Someone kicked the ball to him, teacher's orders because he'd been standing doing nothing all lesson. He tried to kick it back, the effort proved too much for his flimsy limbs and the ball barely rolled a foot. He heard the students' laughter at his pathetic attempt, the teacher scolding him but things were going dark all of a sudden. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the grass. Such a comfortable place to sleep, he caught sight of the fresh raised bumps along his hand but failed to care as he let his tired eyes close.
"Toby, are you alright?" his teacher's voice came from somewhere, "Toby? Someone go inside and get the nurse, right now."
"You must be a very weak person," the woman stated, "Everyone else who has the same strain of Dragon pox as you doesn't have it resurface half as often as you."
"Freak! Freak! You're a Freak!"
"Hideous."
"Revolting."
"I'd rather date a fucking tree than you, you're that ugly."
He was back with his mother. He didn't know what to do. His mother was hurt and so was he but she was unconsciousness, he'd tried shaking her gently a few times to wake her but she was unresponsive. He should get help but how? No one else was home. He didn't know how to get a hold of anyone, except by owl or Floo but he couldn't even stand to Floo and they didn't have their own owl. He was in so much pain and he didn't feel well, he didn't like this, he didn't want to leave his Mum's side. He was five. He didn't know what to do. His mother was still breathing shakily beside him, he crawled as close as he could and cuddled against her broken body. He lay his head down on her arm, feeling her breath on his hair. He put his hand on hers and intertwined his little fingers around her ones, hoping she'd wake up soon. When she woke up then everything would be okay, she'd know what to do.
"I love you, Mummy," he whispered, "It'll be okay soon."
"Do you know how long it took her to die?" the woman asked him, her sweet tone sickening him, "Do you know she could've been saved if she'd gotten help in time? Did you really not think to get help like any decent human being would've? Did you even try?"
"Freak! Freak! You're a freak!"
"Beastly."
"So bad-looking."
"You're going to die alone. And a virgin. No one will ever like you."
He was drifting in and out of consciousness, thirst and hunger setting in, feeling of malaise only increasing. The rasping, gasping breaths grew more unstable and more infrequent until finally they stopped completely. He kept waiting for it to come back. He was sure his mother would start breathing again. His mother couldn't stop breathing.
"She died because of you," the woman reiterated, "How does that make you feel? Do you even feel anything?"
"Freak! Freak! You're a freak!"
"Repugnant."
"Frightful."
"Do the world a favor and kill yourself."
Rescue was blurring images of witches taking him away but it could've been a dream. Months of hospitalization and isolation followed, white walls and beds, pain and illness, white robed Healers all geared up to prevent infection because he was very sick. And again when he was nine. And again when he was thirteen. They gave him the nickname 'Lat' since last names were written first on his notes and they thought it was friendlier than using his whole last name. No one would ever tell him he was a beautiful child ever again.
"Tell me, does your unsightly, vile appearance bother you?" the woman asked, sounding falsely curious before she giggled, "What am I saying? Only girls mind these things. I'm sure you're fine with being repulsive."
"Freak! Freak! You're a Freak!"
"She died," his father whispered hoarsely to answer his question, sitting on a spindly chair by his bedside as silent tears strolled down his cheeks, "Your mother died."
"You have no right to complain, it's your own fault," the woman told him, "What kind of psychopath cuts off his own foot after blowing someone's brains out? What is wrong with you? You're sick."
"I wish you'd died!" his father screamed in drunken anger, his father would forget the next morning but they were unforgettable to him, "I wish you'd died instead of her!"
Tobias Latimer finally managed to break free of his nightmare, jumping up like a fish jumping up for air as he sat there breathing heavily. He was glad his dormitory was deserted as the others had all gone home for Christmas, he'd never hear the end of it if they knew he'd had a bad dream. He fell back onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut to try block out the jumbled assortment of images he didn't want to see and the words he didn't want to hear.
"Merry Christmas," he muttered to himself and rubbed his eyes.
He wanted very much to just go back to sleep but his concern over falling back into the nightmare stopped him, he sighed as he sat up and let his eyes ignore the prefect badge on his bedside table. He didn't deserve it. Surprised to find presents at the end of his bed considering how bad things were with his dad. He'd refused to go back for the holidays, he really couldn't be bothered to go all the way home for no reason again especially since no one would be at Hogwarts to keep an eye on Ashylos/Ashain. It was a good thing he had since he knew Ashain had been complaining of feeling tired and unwell, he didn't think this was a good sign. He'd try talk to Ashylos but he didn't have that wonderful map to know when - and if - he was in that entrance to the Chamber of Secrets room.
Naturally, his dad didn't know that and had alternated between pleading and angry letters to try get him to come home. All pleading that the Shadows had apparently tried to murder him and the Aurors didn't believe him, that he was going to be murdered which Latimer wasn't sure he believed. All anger that he was ungrateful, selfish, uncaring and even a traitor for refusing. Not once - not even as a desperate lie - did he say 'please come home because I miss you, son.' He didn't care, he hadn't cared since the day Latimer had gotten his Hogwarts letter, too bitter about his expulsion to give even half a damn anymore. What was the point in going back to a dad who hated you really? Hogwarts wasn't so bad when there was hardly anyone left in it. He couldn't win, home and Hogwarts both pretty much sucked, either a dad who despised him or constant bullying like regular school. He'd been looking forward to coming of age, inheriting money and getting away. He'd planned and hoped for years now, he could leave his dad and leave Hogwarts because he'd be of legal age. But his hope was dying fast, money couldn't buy you happiness and really what would he do then? He'd still be completely alone.
He shook his head and reached for the presents, he also had a bunch of cards now which was also surprising and he smiled before he recalled Chastity's words. They were only being nice to him because he had value, probably - in this case - because he was keeping an eye on Ashain/Ashylos for them. When he outlived his uselessness, they'd hate him too. It was a soul destroying thought. Kind of like his dad and how Freddie had randomly started being a jerk to him for practicing with Caitlin exactly like they'd done for a few years now, one of the cards was from Freddie and Caitlin. Louis and Rufus from the Quidditch team also sent him cards, as did Albus, Abby, Mirra, Maurice, Orous and Vern. It was officially the most cards he'd ever gotten for Christmas. Molly, Michael and Scorpius had been the ones to get him gifts, naturally his dad would get him nothing in the midst of an argument.
He'd gotten a new paint set from Molly, new Quidditch gloves from Michael, a new sketchbook with the staple box of QuidChocs and a bloody broomstick from Scorpius. A broomstick. A good one too. He'd given Scorpius a crappy book of his worthless paintings and Scorpius turned around and got him a Fireblot Mark IV? Latimer felt oddly guilty, they shouldn't be wasting precious money on him. He couldn't afford to spend that much on them. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wishing he wasn't so useless. He retrieved the picture of him and his mother from under his pillow, he didn't have to be so careful with it when the others weren't around to steal or screw with his stuff for fun. Or at the very least mock him for missing his mother, it wouldn't be the first time. He gazed down at her beautiful smiling face with his innocent superior self and felt his heart wrench with wistful sorrow, wondering what she would say if she was alive or even just there randomly to see him. She'd probably hate him too, feel crushingly disappointed with how he'd turned out. He was an unlikable ugly, talentless loser with one foot after all, what mother wanted that for a son? Despite that painfully sad thought, he missed her. Christmas was a time for family so her absence was even more noticeable and painful than usual, as was his bad relationship with his dad. He replaced the picture solemnly.
He decided to test out his gifts, taking the new sketchbook to draw out scenes from his nightmare of fragmented memories. Sometimes it helped to drew them, it was like it got them out of his head at least for a while. Which he wanted, both because he hated nightmares and he liked sleep. He enjoyed the blissful blackness of not having to think and not having to feel, there was so much negativity on his mind recently and he didn't want to have to endure it. Soul-sucking depression was really awful, he didn't want to feel like that, his thoughts were so dark it scared him sometimes. Not that he'd ever admit it. He also felt more relaxed in bed because he didn't wear his prosthetic foot, he was much more comfortable without the ill-fitting thing despite how 'gross' it apparently looked. He got the new paints out when he was doing drawing it to paint it in, he hadn't done as much painting as he did drawing but sometimes a little color was nice. Molly always encouraged him, she thought his lousy attempt at art was decent and had saved several of his paintings from the flames. She even claimed to have put some of the landscapes on her wall, he seriously doubted that.
He finished it faster than he'd thought but still quite a while, painting out the scenes for Scorpius with a Christmas deadline had helped him improve his speed without realizing it. It was passable, the paints were good and the paper high quality, his own terrible skill was the only bad thing. He thought he'd give it life - turn it into a magical moving painting - as he was actually pretty decent at it, his dad's knowledge with wandless magic he had to use had really helped him with nonverbal magic and he found it much easier than most. Art related spells had actually been what had given him the idea to slow down the speed on the map to see the name, he supposed it was a good think he enjoyed drawing. It took his mind off things. He'd also try out his other presents, take his broom for a spin with those new gloves too. It was still horrendously cold but a quick spin couldn't hurt, he'd never gotten to ride such a fast broom.
But first he had to go eat, or rather have a bath if he wanted the time to have one before dinner. He took out his crutches just to use to move him quickly into the bathroom to go fill it up, it wasn't as nice as the prefect's bathroom but it was closer. He didn't need to worry about people barging in because no one else from his year had stayed - thankfully - for Christmas. He filled up the bath and stripped before leaving his crutches to climb into the soothing hot water, the bubbles hiding his hideous body that. Yes, he knew he was ugly but there was fuck all he could do about it. He leaned back in relative contentment and felt his muscles relaxing, baths were also something he was fond of lately. It was somewhere else he didn't have to wear his prosthetic and more than that, his stump frequently hurt from being chafed by the ill-fitting prosthetic and the water was great for easing the pain or erasing it entirely.
It was probably an odd way to spend Christmas, all alone and taking small pleasures from simple things. It was the best he could ever hope for though, he'd much rather spend it with people too but it wasn't possible. Some things not even magic could do. You just had to enjoy the small things when you could. Sometimes you didn't even have that, in his recent fog of depression he found it hard to enjoy that. For today, he'd do his best to relish the small things and hope he'd have the courage to face the days when the bullies got back. And preferably for the nightmares to stay away.
Part 2: Unhappy Christmas
James was in a foul mood when he woke up on Christmas morning, he had been since the wedding when his own brother had turned on him. Albus was becoming far too corrupted by the likes of the psychos he hung out with, Lily too had told him outright she didn't gave a damn if he disapproved of her friends in Slytherin but she was still going to have them. He thought of trying to scare their friends off but his encounters with the likes of Malfoy or Maurice hadn't gone swimmingly successfully in the past, Lorcan was still too close to the family and he couldn't go after Lily's friend Viola either. Carver had a strange protective affinity when it came to her.
He even tried look out for bloody Vern since his parents insisted on trying to treat him right, better than a Dursley deserved after how they'd treated his father. But what did he get for it? For trying to stop Vern from being seduced by a Nott of all people? Grounded for the holiday because it was suddenly wrong to cut off a Slytherin's hair. It just went to show that Vern was as bad as the rest of his evil family, being interested in someone that was too despicable to count as a person. Why was he punished when he was the only one with proper morals?
It wasn't fair. It made him so angry, where was that damn Slytherin First Year when you needed him? James forgot what he'd originally done to piss him off but he was sure it was something bad that deserved becoming a target for his rage. He didn't even Carver to talk to, he hoped that at least Carver was having a good time in the Bahamas with his father. It was more time than he'd spent with his dad so far this holiday, his dad had barely made a cameo appearance on his birthday and had spent most of the wedding talking to Dragon-breath of all people. He wondered what Carver was doing right now, opening presents with his father? Or maybe taking advantage of the nice weather, sunbathing on the beach with the light dancing off his glistening muscles...
James violently shook his head. Damn Albus was twisting his thoughts into thinking he was attracted to guys, outrageous. Not him. Not the eldest son of Harry Potter. He had things to live up to. There was nothing wrong with admiring muscles on men, it was perfectly normal to like it but only because he aspired to be like that. He'd just turned sixteen so any day now he'd hit puberty properly, start liking girls just like he should then who would be the gay one. He'd had a girlfriend unlike Albus, it wasn't his fault that she had been completely unattractive, unlikable and too terrible a kisser for it to be good. And hopefully he'd get another growth spurt because he was too short, his height was a concern for him. He was Harry Potter's son, height was expected of heroes and their offspring. He got up and headed downstairs unhappily, he missed the Christmases when his dad was around and Vern wasn't.
"Merry Christmas," a familiar voice offered and James spun in shock to see his father sitting, smiling at him from the table.
"Dad, what are you doing here?" James wondered in surprise as he approached his tired-looking dad.
"I live here," his dad pointed out and James went to elaborate what he'd meant but his dad continued, "I miss seeing my kids open their Christmas presents."
"Happy Christmas, Dad," James said happily and rushed over as his dad stood, hugging him and grinning from ear to ear as his dad hugged him tight.
James was ecstatic to have his dad home for Christmas, to have his dad home at all. He talked to him, his good mood resounding and his fears of inadequacy expelled as he told his dad about his classes, his friends, how things were in Hogwarts. Until the others came down and they got to open their presents, with his dad still there! Although James started to get concerned after this when Albus, Lily and Vern began to talk to his dad too and his dad talking back with them.
James felt his insides twist uncomfortably, was he not good enough? Did his prefer talking to the three of them over him? What was he doing wrong? He stood by his family's more than they did, surely he was more deserving of his father's time. Vern wasn't even in their family, Lily was friends with Slytherins and Albus was useless. He'd had his dad's interest fine before they came down. That must be it, Albus had Vern were spreading his lies. They were deliberately turning his dad against him. James felt his foul mood returning as his anger was reignited, dammit where was that Slytherin. He was so going to get it when he got back to Hogwarts.
After that, it was the traditional heading over to the Burrow for Christmas dinner. It felt like there was less people there every year, Aunt Audrey - although James didn't miss her, he'd never liked the bitch - and Aunt Fleur, Uncle Charlie were all dead now. Uncle George, Aunt Angelina, Freddie and Roxy had made the decision to spend Christmas with Caitlin's parents to get to know her and her family better before the baby would be born. Stupid slut. Dom also presumably wouldn't be there since she'd run off with Aurelius. Sure enough, Dom wasn't there but Uncle Bill was talking about her.
"Can you really not do anything?" Uncle Bill was demanding of Cel when James stepped out of the fireplace, "Can't you arrest him for something? He cradle-robbed my little girl!"
"He hasn't broken any laws," Cel insisted before the two men noticed them and he smiled his perfect smile, James felt his knees go a little weak, "Hey, James, Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Cel, Uncle Bill," James greeted them both.
Uncle Bill stopped his feud for a moment to hug him in greeting and wish him a happy Christmas too, he moved onto Lily who'd came after him and James hugged Cel instead. Why shouldn't he? They were basically family. He wished Cel was shirtless again, he'd love to feel those firm abs beneath his fingers and Cel could lean down and press his perfect lips against James'... He mentally slapped himself as Cel broke off the hug, fucking Albus! It was just for... testing purposes to know what his muscles were supposed to be like. He wasn't gay. He wasn't.
Gabrielle was so lucky though, Cel was amazing in every possible way. He found her easily, he just had to listen for the crying baby. He went through the process of being hugged by pretty much everyone in the Burrow in greeting, except for Gabrielle because she was busy with the baby, Percy's girlfriend Penelope because he barely knew her and Rose because she wasn't there. James thought it was a shame, he'd been hoping they could just mock Latimer for fun she also disliked the ugly freak. James still needed to get back at him somehow, it required thought because Latimer was pretty decent at defending himself from spells. Although not good enough to stop a werewolf slicing up his face or foot apparently. He'd think of something, he wanted Latimer to feel completely humiliated.
"Hey Dad," James came back over to his father, who was listening to Vern gushing over his ugly, bald girlfriend, "What-"
"James, hang on a minute. I'm listening to Vern," his Dad brushed him off and James felt a jab of hurt. He'd rather listen to the son of people who mistreated and abused him than his own flesh and blood child? Those buggers had been telling lies about him.
"Rose!" Gabrielle shrieked suddenly and James turned in surprise, seeing his cousin coming in to say hello. Rose wasn't looking well, her skin looked practically green - actually green - and she shuffled in sickly. Gabrielle handed off Vale and started fussing over Rose, "We need to get you to St Mungo's. You've got Dragon pox."
"No!" Rose yelped in panic, her face paling as she started to sob, "I can't have Dragon pox! I broke up with my boyfriend as soon as I found out he had it, I can't have it! I don't want to be ugly!"
Lorcan lay on his bed, on his side facing the window with his back to the door. He was fully dressed already and had his trusty wand clutched in his hands, just staring with gritty eyes at the blank stretch of wall beneath the window. He was tired but he was always tired, he despised sleep because it meant letting your guard down and he hated that. It was Christmas, he knew it was but he failed to feel excited or happy. Gifts were just objects, they didn't matter really. The thought behind it mattered more, he supposed, the fact that someone cared enough to buy him something. He kind of wished they wouldn't, his lack of interest tended to hurt people's feelings or else he'd have to pretend for their sake. He didn't want to pretend, why should they get to see a happy him when he didn't?
He'd rather be back in Hogwarts, he would've stayed if not for the wedding. There he was allowed to practice magic, practice defending himself. He felt safest then, it was the closest he felt to happiness. He wondered what Varanian was doing right now, he hoped Varanian was alive, he didn't think he could cope if his hero died. He didn't understand why Harry - or anyone - could think Varanian was a Shadow, did it really not register that Varanian had saved his life? And not just from inevitable death, from suffering, from being a captive. If that wasn't enough, he'd also turned around and given him a wand, given him the power to defend himself. That was the greatest gift he'd ever received or ever would, nothing could top that. He doubted Varanian had ever given it a second thought but it mattered so incredibly to Lorcan, no one seemed to grasp how much it meant to him. Did they just not care Varanian had saved him? Where had his parents been? What about his 'Uncle' Harry and the rest of the Aurors? The Ministry that was supposed to protect the people? Too busy hunting the man who'd saved him and given him a life back.
It just made Varanian even more heroic in his eyes. Instead of focusing on saving himself, Varanian focused on stopping the Shadows. He saved the life of a random stranger when he had absolutely no obligation to do so, just because he was a good person. It disgusted him to hear people insult Varanian, sickened him that the Ministry still refused to believe the blatant truth. He'd never be able to repay the overwhelming gratitude he felt, he hadn't even really gotten to say thank you with everything that happened. He wished he could see him again, thank him even though Varanian wouldn't care. It mattered to Lorcan. He lived in fear of reading of Varanian's death, he wanted very much for his name to be cleared and the Shadows to be gone. Varanian had saved Lysander too, saved his twin. Something else he was grateful for, even if Lysander didn't remember or care for the gift of freedom that Varanian had given.
Lorcan wanted to fight the Shadows until either they were gone or he was, it was the right thing to do. He e couldn't move on with them still there anyway, a lurking threat that could take him or his brother back to the pain in an instant. How did Scorpius and Orous cope? He was on edge all the time. He didn't get picked on, people were too afraid of his accidental outlashes of magic. He heard their whispers though, he saw the way they looked at him. The freak. Even his friends didn't like to be around him sometimes, his brother, his parents. He couldn't help it, if he knew how to stop then he would. Unlike them though, he didn't have the option of getting away from himself. Holding his wand made him feel safe, it was his sword and his shield, given to him by Varanian. He'd been so relieved when Mr Ollivander had told his parents he'd bonded strongly to his wand, that it was a perfectly decent wand - created by Varanian himself - and that he didn't need to buy one. His wand was that much more special to him because of it, it had sentimental value to be crafted and given to him by his hero rather than a cheap, common store bought one.
"Mum! Dad! Wake up! It's Christmas! It's Christmas! Santa's brought us presents! Mum! Dad!" Lysander's happy voice came excitedly from outside his room, Lorcan groaned inwardly as it meant his hiding from the holiday would be ruined. He felt hammering on his door a minute later, "Lorc! Get up! Mum and Dad say come down so we can open our presents! We got presents!"
"Presents on Christmas, how surprising," Lorcan muttered bitterly to himself.
He obediently got up and headed down the spiral flight of stairs, which was decorated with random seashells. Not stickers or carvings, actual seashells stuck onto the bannister. He respected his parents' imagination but their complete lack of pragmatism bothered him, real life wasn't all crazy creatures and sunshine. Reality was much darker, bad things happened. People could be cruel and sick, they could hurt you in more ways than you could possibly have imagined. Rainbows, unicorns and sprinkles of fairy dust did not change that and it did not help. His parents were so naive, it was annoying and made him feel even more isolated. His mother said he could talk to her about anything if he needed to, she'd be 'there' but it was a lie. How was he supposed to talk to her - or his father - about anything serious when both of them had their heads in the clouds? They didn't know what it felt like to be tortured, to be hurt. Lorcan wasn't even sure they knew such things existed and had happened to him.
"Merry Christmas, Lys," his father offered brightly as he hugged a happy Lysander.
"Merry Christmas, Dad," Lysander told him cheerfully before backing up to share an 'eskimo kiss' and moved over to do the same to his mother.
"Merry Christmas, Lorc," his father said as he noticed him standing awkwardly in the doorway, feeling very much like he was watching someone else's family. Lorcan turned to him and instinctively tightened the grip on his wand for comfort as he always did when someone walked towards him, his father wore a big smile and had his arms outstretched as if expecting a hug.
"Merry Christmas, Father," Lorcan greeted him politely but made no move to hug, he didn't want to be touched. His father's smile wavered slightly.
"C'mon, Lorc, how about a hug for your old man on Christmas?"
"No. I don't want to be touched."
"It's a hug!" his father protested in exasperation as he lowered his arms, a scowl on his face now, "I'm your father."
"No," Lorcan reaffirmed, not caring who or why. He didn't want to be touched.
"It's been over a year, Lorcan! Over a year. You have got to get over this already!"
"I can't help it," Lorcan muttered guilty and stared at his feet as he shuffled them.
"Yes you can!" his father yelled angrily, "You don't even try! You just hold that damn wand and push everyone away from you. I'm your Dad! Is it too much to ask for one hug on Christmas?! Don't you want to get better?! Don't you want to be normal?!"
"I don't want to be touched."
"You have to at least try," his father insisted.
He pulled him into a hug before Lorcan could stop it. Alarm bells went off in his mind and panic engulfed him, terror sparking through him as memories of Linden's hands snaking into his mind...
"NO!" Lorcan screeched shrilly.
He jammed his eyes shut and grabbed at his head as if it would stop the memories, digging his nails into his scalp painfully and willing them away with every fiber of his frightened body. He heard a scream, someone was screaming. He flicked his amber eyes open and saw it was his father, lying on his back and howling in agony because of his hands. They were on fire, vicious and violent bright blue flames burned with a degree of luminosity that sought to highlight the lines of pain on his father's face, his hands looked like balls of fire. His mother frantically waving her wand to try put it out, Lorcan backed up in horror at what he knew he was causing. The flames died, leaving the sickening stench of burned flesh in the air and two bony hands with the skin all shriveled up and black. His father lay gasping in pain while his mother knelt to tend to him, he'd need to go to St Mungo's.
"You freak!" Lysander cried, jabbing a finger accusingly at him and Lorcan saw watery tears escaping his eyes, "What is wrong with you?! You psychotic freak, he's our Dad! Why did you do that?! He was just giving you a hug!"
"I didn't mean too, I didn't," Lorcan whimpered as he backed away further, fighting back tears himself as he fled upstairs. He knew he should've stayed in Hogwarts, he didn't belong here.
Lorcan threw himself onto his bed and sobbed.
Roman hated Christmas. Alzay's birthday being on Christmas Eve had ruined whatever potential liking he had for holiday about family that he frequently spent alone. Varanian also disliked as it was the anniversary of his family's death but he wasn't as vocal and was indifferent to Wyatt's view on it. Wyatt actually liked Christmas and Roman was forever having to snap at him to stop singing those stupid Christmas songs, it just made him do it more. Sometimes it was almost as if Wyatt did it just to annoy him, he also had to frequently shoot down Wyatt's attempts to put some Christmas decoration up. Roman had cleaned the place up, Roman kept it clean, Roman spend more time there than either of them so Roman thought it was perfectly fair that he had his say over the decoration or lack thereof. Except Wyatt's own room, Roman would give him that.
He treated the day like any other, he was actually pleasantly surprised to not have had a nightmare about Alzay. He sat up and shifted around to sit on the edge of his bed, glancing up at his perfectly neat bedroom. Everything in place still made him feel safe, not that anyone understood that. The things that mattered most to him were closest by on his bedside table. The first were the two photographs he had. The one of his family to remind of his lost loved ones, his dead parents, dead sister, his brother was as good as dead to him and the happy-child-Roman was definitely dead too. The other one of himself with the Snitch after that game he'd won, to remind himself of what it felt like to have fun and be victorious. The second was his pocket watch, a gift from his Audrey and Percy for coming of age but he'd also attached an artifact to the chain. An Ancient Egyptian healing ankh, a little silver cross with a loop in place of the top segment, a loop with the palest of blue crystals.
They were extremely rare because they could only be used once, they could supposedly cure any ailment - even those that weren't usually curable even by magic - but for the one time only. No one was completely sure if they worked or not, they weren't used but rather studied to try figure out to recreate such an incredible feat of magic since it been lost. Roman didn't know how to recreate it - no one had figured it out - but he had a decent idea on how to use it, he'd been saving it in case he was ever dying from an incurable illness or unhealable wound - which seemed more likely with the Shadows - and needed it. Of course it wouldn't stop a Killing Curse or a Specter destroying his soul or if he was too far gone to be able to use it, but still. And the final thing was the glass paperweight with the Coliseum that Maurice had given him a few years ago, despite the fact it had been given as a Christmas present. It reminded him of his son without his resemblance to Alzay tainting it, it also reminded him that maybe there was still hope for him to not be completely like her. He had nothing to remind him of his other son, he wished he did.
The silence echoed around him, amplifying the emptiness of his 'home' and his life. Roman sighed, he couldn't win, he was scared around people but lonely when he was alone. He wished he had the Stone of Resurrection, why had the one time in his life that he'd been strong the one time he wished he wasn't? Maybe dying from stone obsession wouldn't be so bad, at least he'd have family. Ironically, it was simpler to see the dead than the living. He got up and went to get dressed, his eyes lingering on the still present scars Alzay had given him. Pitted pale burn scars, random grooves and lumps, the assortment of slashes were everywhere. None visible if he wore his clothes right though, he wished they weren't visible to his eyes at all. Not because he was vain, just because seeing them reminded him of her and he hated anything that reminded him of her. Damn Alzay. He got up, showered, dressed and made breakfast. Fried eggs on French toast, his favorite to try cheer up him up. He wondered how his sons' Christmas was going, with Orous' perfect muggle stepfather, whether they'd liked his - and Scorpius' technically - gifts.
"Well I hope they have a good day at least, they deserve to be happy," Roman sighed to himself and glanced at the door as he heard the soft pitter-patter of Wyatt's lizard form on the ceiling, "Morning Wyatt."
"Morning Rome," Wyatt greeted him as he dropped transformed from a lizard back to a human, a grin on his face as he strolled over and grabbed a slice of Roman's breakfast.
"Roman," Roman corrected irritably as Wyatt took a big bite out of the toast, "And that's my breakfast, I didn't say you could have some."
"If I'd asked then you'd just say no."
"Exactly."
"You'd let Varanian."
"Varanian saved my life. What have you done for me lately?"
"Well I would've got you a Christmas present but you repeatedly insisted I didn't," Wyatt announced while continuing to munch on the toast before offering the half eaten slice to him, "Do you want this back?"
"Not now you've eaten half of it," Roman complained, finding it incredulous that Wyatt would think he wanted something half-eaten back, "Is Varanian in or out?"
"Left while you were in the shower."
"Are you going too?"
"Not with Varanian, he didn't say where he was going anyway. Not much to do today really, even the people we're tracking are hanging out with their families. I was going to check in on my sister. Although depending on whether she's spending Christmas with Dad or her boyfriend, I may or might not stay. Can't stand my father but the werewolf guy's okay."
"Don't they think you're dead?"
"I meant as a lizard," Wyatt elaborated as he finished off his breakfast, "I like watching over her and making sure she's okay, I checked in on her regularly before finding Varanian. I worry about her becoming a target for the Shadows because she is a journalist, if they don't like something she writes. So far so good right now though. What about you?"
"Nothing. It's just a regular day like any other."
"You want my advice?"
"No," Roman told him firmly but naturally, Wyatt continued anyway.
"You should do what I'm doing."
"What? Stalk your family."
"Haha, good one. And no, go see your sons. Cast a Disillusionment Charm and peek in at them through the window, it's a muggle home so there won't be any enchantments to stop it anyway," Wyatt offered, "Trust me, it'll make you feel better to just see them, see that they're okay."
"I don't think so, I don't want to die," Roman insisted and Wyatt tilted his head to one side to look at him curiously for a minute before shrugging.
"Suit yourself, Roman, it's your Christmas after all," Wyatt said as he headed towards the door, pausing in the doorway to look back, "But it really does help, you could at least try it. Just because you can't let them know you're there, it doesn't mean you can't be there. Happy Christmas."
On that note, Wyatt left. Roman turned irritably back to his food and tried to focus on not thinking of doing that. It was a stupid. Suicidal and stupid to be out in the open like that. Absolutely. Ridiculous. He was not going to do it. He was not doing that. It was creepy and stalkerish. But maybe he could at least try, he still had some Polyjuice Potion and then if he used the Disillusionment Charm then he'd be more secure. He'd get to see them. He wanted to see them.
"You're an absolute idiot. You're going to die. Stupid, stupid, stupid," Roman told himself angrily as he downed a mouthful of the bland-tasting liquid, hating the sensation of his body changing shape, "And damn you, Wyatt. I hate you, you evil bastard for getting this idea in my head."
He wondered if Varanian felt like that every time he changed his appearance or if it felt completely different because he was a metamormphmagus not someone using Polyjuice Potion. He drank some Calming Draught to ease his anxiety and took out his wand, twirling his wand around himself and thinking of the spell. He felt an uncomfortable sensation of a raw egg being cracked on his head, flowing down him and cloaking him with semi-invisibility. He saw his body now sharing the texture of the wall like a chameleon, it changed with the scenery as he headed out. He knew his heart wanted to hammer his chest in terror but the draught helped, making it feel like nothing more than a strumming of one of those string instruments. It was snowing gently but the wind remained fierce, he walked far enough away to be out of the range of the anti-apparation wards before disapparating to the street the muggle Knox lived on.
It wasn't snowing here but there was still snow on the ground, less than the field he'd been wading through. He magically wiped his footprints as he searched for number twenty-one, finding it and headed towards it. It looked no different to the other snow-covered houses in the street, it had a neat white lawn unlike the others which mostly had hedges or small stone walls or fences or flowers or taller white grass. Snow was everywhere. There was one of those metal box things muggles used, cars he thought they were called but it was also coated in snow. Roman wandered over to a random window and was surprised to immediately find his sons in plain view, well if he stood on the far left of the window anyway since they were to the right in what appeared to be the sitting room.
Maurice was leaning back against the arm rest of the couch, his knees up to his chest and a book in his hands but his eyes were drifting to whatever the others were looking at and the others themselves. He looked so much like her that it still terrified him, he bet it was a book on something bad. The muggle - presumably with the last name Knox - was on the other end of the couch, a tall scary looking bald man. Orous was in the middle, cuddled up to the bald man and an assortment of dogs. They both seemed to be watching something with interest and eating from a bowl of popped corn between them, their lips were moving as if they were talking. Knox smiled as he said something, Orous laughed. Roman couldn't hear it but his son looked happy. Knox signed - signed - to Maurice to ask if he wanted some and offered the bowl, Maurice took a handful and seemed to thank him.
Roman felt his eyes watering as he watched them, his heart twisting painfully. He had so many regrets in fatherhood, aside from being a father against his will in the first place or their respective conditions but that wasn't his sons' fault, it was Alzay's. He wished he'd never left Orous, he wished he'd coped with Maurice's deafness better, he wished he'd never sent Maurice away to that school, he even wished he had the courage to get help with Alzay so she'd have gone to Azkaban and he wouldn't have been cut off from Orous. Unforgivable Curses were just that, if nothing else she'd done to him was a crime then using those still was. He wondered if Orous knew he'd written every single week - until Orous went missing obviously - to beg Alzay to let him see his son after he'd seen her when Maurice was diagnosed deaf, he wondered if Orous would care. He wondered if Orous knew he'd sent him a birthday present every year after the first - again until he'd gone missing obviously - or if he'd ever got them, he wondered if Orous would care. Did it matter really? Trying wasn't succeeding.
He'd tried to do his best for Maurice too, he'd sent him to that 'school' because he thought it was the best option at the time. He hadn't known what they'd do or that they'd not let him see him for so long, he'd wrote letters begging them for Maurice and demanding they return him too. He'd only sent Maurice back because he wanted to go and he wanted Maurice to be happy, he hadn't known their cruel methods and as soon as he had, he'd taken him out. And gotten possessed, forced to work for the Shadows instead and to make Maurice use the blood quill instead. He'd hoped being so cold to him and hard on him would make Maurice hate him, make him go to the authorities. It was hardly his fault if Maurice did that, he'd hoped the Shadows would be forced to let him go and that Maurice would be safe. Everything always backfired on him, it didn't matter that he'd tried. It mattered that he'd failed. And now he was finally free of the Specter, Orous was no longer under Alzay's lock and key, but he couldn't do anything.
Scorpius thought it was too late to make things right with them, be a real father to them. Roman had rejected the thought because he didn't want it to be true, he wanted to finally get to be a good dad. But looking at them now, for the first time he really thought about whether it was too late. They'd be fourteen next year. Orous considered Knox his dad, he seemed happy with him and the muggle had clearly done a good job. Better than Roman. Why wouldn't he? Knox didn't have to deal with all the things he did, Knox didn't find people so difficult to talk to. Roman couldn't compete with that. Roman never got what he wanted anyway, did it really matter if he got to be a good father if his sons were happy? Maurice might even do well in a muggle environment, away from war and fighting. Their happiness mattered the most. Maybe it wasn't even a matter of whether it was too late or not, maybe it was just that they were better off without him. He and Alzay should never have been parents, it really shouldn't surprise him they'd do better away from them both. But it did. And it hurt to feel that useless. Roman was crying as he walked away from his children, disapparating back to the hideout and trudging back through the snow. His sobs were lost in the wind. He couldn't win.
Abby was not having a good Christmas. Her elder sister, Heather, had decided to leave as soon as the wedding was over because she wanted to spend Christmas with her boyfriend. Abby hadn't even known she'd had a boyfriend. Nick wasn't there either, of course, it was the first Christmas without him. Her mum was trying to put a brave face on things, putting up the decorations and tree but the smiles didn't quite reach her eyes and Abby had heard her crying last night. Christmas was a time for family and they were missing most of theirs. It was empty day, everyone seemed to just be going through the motions and trying to smile for each other.
Except her dad. He didn't even try to smile, he watched them open their presents with disinterested eyes and was unenthusiastic with his own gifts. He was doing better, except with his family. Abby didn't notice it so much in class but at home, she understood why August was concerned. He no longer talk to her unless she tried to make conversation, even then she was given short answers if he couldn't think of something to suddenly need to do to get away from her. He was the same with August although treated their mother no differently, except for being less cheerful as he had been becoming more melancholy the closer they got to Christmas. The gloom hung in the air like an invisible cloud.
Abby finished putting away her presents, grateful to have such generous friends and hoped they'd like her gifts too. She returned into the sitting room, catching the delightful scent of the Christmas dinner that her mother was cooking wandering in. It was oddly silent though, Nick and Heather were the louder ones but they weren't there. Her dad was sitting on the couch, an uncharacteristic glass of wine in his hand and a photograph of Nick in his prosthetic. August was walking over to him, somewhere between nervous and smiling as he offered out a poorly wrapped misshapen gift.
"Here, Dad, I got you a present too," August told him, smiling weakly while their dad just looked at it, "Happy Christmas, hope you like it."
"I don't want it," their Dad whispered, his face serious and his eyes cold.
"It's Christmas, just-"
"I said no, August," their Dad snapped in interruption.
August slowly retracted the gift as his expression became crestfallen, their father's expression held firm. August turned away with tears in his eyes that their dad had to notice, he hung his head and his shoulders started to shake as he walked away. She reached out to comfort him as he passed by her but he brushed her hands aside, heading on to his room alone. Abby looked back to her dad, he'd already gone back to sipping his wine and gazing sadly at the picture of Nick. It was still quiet.
Part 3: Change of Place
Dom woke up on Christmas morning in surprise, still not yet used to Aurelius' bedroom. The four poster bed alone was larger than any double bed that she'd ever seen but actually managed to feel too small in the massive room and this was just the bedroom. He had an entrance room off from the corridor which he used as a sitting room which led to his bedroom, a study, a bathroom and a room he used for storing things. Even more than that, leading off from the bedroom itself was an even larger bathroom and a 'closet' that was bigger than her bedroom back in Shell Cottage. That was just Aurelius' quarters. The mansion itself had a very evident feeling of grandeur but it also felt cold and dark despite the lighting, the black marble columns lining the walls didn't help. She could understand immediately why Aurelius craved color so much, even his rooms had the same gray marble walls with black marble pillars in all corners. All the furniture was made of dark ash wood in the same style old expensive style.
Not that he hadn't tried to put his mark on things, photographs covered the walls in ornate golden frames and were scattered across surfaces. Most of were of his family, his brother before he'd died and his sons when they were younger, more recent ones were of the two of them together and he'd put up some pictures of her own family to make her feel more at home. Aurelius was sweet like that. The bed was so soft it was like sleeping on a cloud, she was cozy and warm too. There was one thing missing though, Aurelius himself. She'd been enjoying waking up cuddled against her husband in the mornings, he wasn't there now though. He was probably in the bathroom or doing his ritual morning flight of the mansion, he'd be back. She stretched out on the big, empty bed and found her eyes drawn back to the photographs. Aurelius, his brother and sons were the only ones who appeared in his photographs. Aurelius was easily recognizable - he hadn't changed a lot in looks over the years - and she could also recognize her former professor, Brutus was also obvious due to his deformity despite Dom never having met him. Aurelius' brother Romulus was spotted through process of elimination, his features were crisp and sharp. He had the same extremely dark auburn hair but it was cropped, his dark chestnut eyes radiated intelligence and he smirked as if he knew something the others did not.
There were no pictures of Aurelius' parents, she knew his mother was dead but she had yet to meet, see or so much as hear his father despite being there for a few days already. She had pictures of her parents though, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and even some of friends. It was the first Christmas without her mother, the first Christmas she'd spend without any of them. She'd clung to the hope but kind of accept it wouldn't be a possibility after marrying Aurelius, at least not this year. She'd known her dad would react badly, she'd be surprised if he wasn't raging and hounding the Aurors of the family to do something right now. She understood his position, in terms of numbers it didn't look right but they were people not numbers and he needed to understand hers. She and Aurelius were in love and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, she was an adult and she'd made her choice for better or worse. If her dad really loved her then he'd accept that. Dom sighed as she watched the picture of her parents smiling at her with their arms around each other, wondering what her mother would say if she was still alive. She'd only missed her daughters' weddings by a few months.
"Ah you're awake," Aurelius greeted her happily and she glanced back to the door to see her husband entering with a tray with food and a drink, she returned his smile as he came over and laid the tray on her lap. Oddly shaped splodgey and incredibly thick pancakes, smothered in whipped cream and fresh blueberries - which was her favorite - along with a goblet of pumpkin juice. He kissed her on the cheek as he kicked off his bright pink slippers and climbed back into bed beside her, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas with pancakes?" Dom wondered in amusement.
"Why not?" Aurelius shrugged and she smiled as his strangeness as she started cutting into her breakfast, "You have to eat something before we do presents."
"Well thank you, I've never had non-circular shaped pancakes before."
"I never understood the circles, the funnest part of making them is seeing what strange shapes you can make," Aurelius told her as she tried the surprisingly tasty pancakes, "That's the best part of it. I don't even like pancakes but I'll stomach them just because I'll get to make them, my sons loved them though so it worked out pretty well. Well sort of, sometimes I think it's a miracle they survived me being their father and a single father to boot."
"I'm sure they were well fed," Dom assured him and Aurelius gave a nervous laugh.
"Do you know how I got Brutus? Not long after midnight on New Year's, I received an owl from Mary Hawker - Brutus' mother - asking that I meet her outside the front gate. I was here for the winter break - naturally - and I was delighted, she'd broken up with me at the start of the summer because she was graduating Hogwarts but I was just finishing my Fourth Year and she said she didn't want to date someone still in school, didn't think it and the age gap would work. I was pretty... well absolutely devastated at the time so when I got the owl I was happy to think maybe she had changed her mind about dumping me. Instead of Mary though, there was just a basket with baby bundled up inside with another note saying 'here's your son. Take good care of him - Mary'. Literally, that's all she wrote. And that's how I got Brutus, I thought he was most adorable thing I'd ever seen. Well he was the first baby I'd ever seen up close."
"Wasn't he deformed?"
"Oh yes, of course he was. I still thought he was cute, he was so tiny. Well, actually he was pretty big as far as babies go but he was comparatively tiny. I never thought he was ugly, he was my little boy - Ashain eyes and hair are pretty distinctive - and I loved him as soon as I first laid eyes on him. I named him Hephaestus after the Greek God because he was deformed too but he was still a God, still powerful and Brutus could be too, I never wanted him to feel like he was any less because he was deformed. And Brutus as a first name because I thought it sounded strong, I wanted him to feel strong. My parents hated him though, they suggested I take him to a river and drown him. The sad thing is, they were serious. I wouldn't do that though so they told me I had to take care of him myself, no help from the house elves. Bear in mind, I knew nothing about babies. I'd taken Care of Magical Creatures and quite a lot of them are born more developed than human babies. So I erm... What was my point again?" Aurelius trailed off thoughtfully for a moment, Dom was trying to finish her current mouthful to tell him before he remembered, "Oh wait, I remember. So I didn't know anything. I kept trying to sit Brutus up - which babies can't do by themselves properly for a few months - and I made him cocoa and some dinner, I didn't understand why he was letting it go cold."
"You didn't," Dom laughed through a mouthful of blueberry and Aurelius blushed furiously.
"I did. I was about to try to feed him too because it occurred to me that he might not know how to eat yet, I nearly fed my newborn son a forkful of beef and vegetables! A choking hazard. Thankfully I noticed he didn't have teeth before I could make that grievous error. It's kind of amazing Brutus survived the night, I was running around like a clueless lunatic while he started crying at the inadequacy of his parenting. I tried helping him drink water from a glass before I eventually figured out he needed milk from a bottle and he needed more to keep him warm then just that blanket he'd been left in, poor thing was probably frozen because it was a cold night too. When it was actually day, I started reading my way through books on babies and bought a load of baby stuff because I wanted to raise him right. Caring for Brutus was completely exhausting but utterly worth it."
"You did the best you could, you learned," Dom offered consolingly and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, "You loved him, that's the important thing. My Dad grew up poor but he grew up loved, he'd rather have that than money."
"Money doesn't buy happiness," Aurelius confirmed as he leaned back and she shifted closer to him, cuddling up against him as much as possible while keeping her tray stable. He put an arm around her gently and she went back to eating her food, he was always so gentle, "Have you spoken to your family?"
"Not beyond sending off their presents and cards. I told you I wouldn't, not yet."
"I know, I just don't want you to be estranged from your family like I am from mine. Especially not because of me."
"They just need some time to get used to the idea, they'll come around."
"What if they don't?" Aurelius wondered worriedly.
"Then they're not the family I thought they were," Dom admitted reluctantly and shrugged, "I'm sure it won't come to that though."
"I never thought I'd become estranged from my sons so completely either but it happened, it's my own fault. Mere moments can have a momentous effect on the outcome of your life without realizing it."
"You shouldn't blame yourself."
"How can I not? Brutus became a Death Eater to save my life, I'd rather he hadn't but he still did it to protect me so it's all my fault that he was in that situation," Aurelius told her and she leaned further against him to remind him he wasn't alone, knowing full well it was still a sore topic for him. She'd seen the scars the Death Eaters had left, both physical and mental, "And I always encouraged Atty to pursue whatever career he wanted as you do, especially with him. When I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up at age seven, he told me he wanted to be dead so anything not that was pretty good even something as dangerous as that. Otherwise he might not have been an Auror and never have dueled Brutus. Then ultimately, I'm the one who disowned him for killing Brutus. How are you supposed to react in that situation? When one child kills the other? I don't know. I just couldn't cope, I couldn't even look at him without thinking of him killing Brutus so I disowned him. And now I deeply regret it."
"You can't be so hard on yourself, you were a nervous wreck and you made a mistake. You had no control over what they did to put them in that situation."
"I still feel bad," Aurelius sighed, "I don't blame Atticus for hating me and I have no idea how Brutus feels, he either hates me too or stays away for his own safety. Whatever it is, I hope he stays away because I don't want him to die or go to prison. I know that's probably not right legally speaking, he's a criminal but he's still my son and I know he's not wholly bad even if he has done wrong, I don't want anything bad to happen to him. To either of them. Or to you. And that's why I just don't want you to wake up one day and realize what little you have and how much you've lost, to regret things so badly."
"I don't regret any of it," Dom told him seriously, "Whatever happens, I'm glad I married you because even if things go horrifically wrong and we both wind up dead and miserable or whatever. I'd regret so much more if things had gone horrifically wrong without ever taking the chance of being with the man I love. Whatever happens, I'm glad my family know because I don't like keeping things from them and if we are ever going to have a future together then they need to know, I'd rather they find out sooner or later. You're a part of my life now and if my father wants me in his life then he needs to accept me as I am with who I want, not live my life feeding him lies and letting him live in ignorance. What's the point of that?"
"I see your point, I just want you to be happy is all," Aurelius admitted and paused thoughtfully for a moment, "And speaking of fathers, mine wants to meet you. He's invited us to have Christmas dinner with him if you'd like."
"Absolutely. I should meet my father-in-law."
"I've mentioned he's evil, right?"
"Repeatedly. But still, we're living together and I should at least recognize him on sight," Dom pointed out and Aurelius chuckled.
"Fair point. But just to forewarn you, he is not kind. He will not like you, no matter what you do, he will insult you, be mean to you, mock you. Me too but I'm used to it. Don't except him to like you, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. You're perfect just how you are, really. He's just heartless. That is not an exaggeration."
"I know, you've mentioned it once or twice," Dom assured him and Aurelius nodded in understanding, she paused a moment before deciding she may as well ask, "What was your mother like?"
"Also heartless. But not quite the same as Father, she was more unstable and unhappy. She was bad sober but worse drunk, she was drunk a lot. I was terrified of her as a child..." Aurelius explained hesitantly, he rarely mentioned her, "It's not all bad. Romulus found a room to hide from her that he showed me, a secret room that she couldn't get into but I could. I figured out years later it's a spell, it only lets those with Ashain blood pass. It's a strange dead end room, I think you need a password to go lower into the basement levels. The guy who built this place made it a labyrinth of mystery."
"You'll have to show me when you give me a tour."
"I can give you one today if you'd like."
"Really?" Dom smiled at the thought of a proper look around, he glanced at her and his smile returned.
"Of course, this is your day. We can do whatever you'd like, Dom, my darling."
"Christmas can be your day too."
"It kind of lost its allure when it became the day Dumbledore came to tell me my son tried to kill himself," Aurelius said solemnly before seeming to think of something, "I know I mention my sons a lot this morning, Christmas just makes me think of them."
"Your rambling gives me something to listen to while I'm eating," Dom shrugged it off quite truthfully, she liked his random trains of thoughts.
"We haven't talked about it before, do you want children of your own someday?"
"Do you?" Dom countered curiously, "Want more children with me, I mean?"
"Aren't I too old?" Aurelius joked although Dom thought that was very much not the case, older men than him had fathered children and he was quite capable of doing things younger men could do. He still didn't look his age anyway, he could easy pass for his son's brother and still had a refined attractiveness to him that those her own age lacked. She thought he was much more handsome than her former professor, he still had a full head of thick extremely dark auburn locks.
"You're not that old, your Father's older and he's still kicking."
"Father always says I have a weak heart though, same as my brother had and he doubts I'll outlive him. It's a problem for Ashains of late, we used to have long life spans even by wizard standards and this place is so big because it used to accommodate multiple generations at a time. And also the way the family funds work how they do, the trust fund is designed to last because odds were you wouldn't get to control the whole family fortune to the longevity. Unfortunately just after my Father came of age, there was a sickness that swept through the mansion and killed everyone but him, he inherited everything to himself. It was the same thing that killed Romulus apparently."
"Really?" Dom wondered, almost choking on her food. Aurelius nodded in confirmation and she was struck by how unsettling and unlikely it was that everyone would suddenly die, just when Corvinus was coming of age to inherit everything. It seemed awfully suspect.
"I don't know. I wanted more children when I was younger, if I met the right woman. I thought it would be nice to raise a child when I actually knew what I was doing for once, do it all right without screwing up. And with a woman I loved, not alone. I also thought it'd be nice to have a daughter for a change. Even if I'm not too old, I think I'd probably just screw up again. It depends on what you want, I'm open to it if you want to. And if you do want children then I highly recommend waiting until the war is over in case we die first, plus if you still wanted to be an Auror."
"I don't still want to be an Auror. What's the point? I want to fight the Shadows not hunt Varanian, who I know is innocent," Dom shrugged it off, not wanting to get into right now. It was Christmas, her first Christmas as an Ashain and she did not want to be thinking about avenging her mother's murder or the Shadow War. She smiled at Aurelius and met his dark chestnut eyes, "But I'm open to kids as long as they're with you, when it's peaceful and when I'm ready, when you're ready. Especially if she has her father's eyes."
"If she has her father's eyes then she has to have her mother's hair," Aurelius told her, returning the smile and running his fingers through her hair. Dom pressed her lips against his gently, relishing the closeness. Aurelius giggled when he pulled away, "Your lips taste like blueberries."
"I-" Dom started to laugh and form a response but stopped as the room briefly flashed white, several times in a row before stopping. She looked at Aurelius in confusion, "What was that?"
"An enchantment I set up to alert me when people are entering the mansion, Father's entertaining guests again this morning. He did warn me when he invited us to dinner," Aurelius sighed, "I do dislike those creevil people. They shouldn't bother us though, try not to worry."
Maurice really didn't understand Cade. He had absolutely no obligation to care for his wife's - was she even still his wife since she'd left him two or three years ago now? - son, let alone his wife's other son that he'd never even met. Cade clearly also had no idea how to be a father, he was so nice all the time. What did Cade possibly have to gain from that behavior? He'd even gone through the trouble of learning sign language, despite Maurice having his translator necklace. Contrary to everyone's belief, Maurice actually had no issue with being deaf beyond disliking people's reactions to it.
And then there was Christmas. Maurice was against the idea, it was a stupid pointless celebration as material possessions were meaningless. All that really mattered was the knowledge inside your head and the wand in your hand. He'd been curious about Christmas last year but that was before, before he knew his father was a traitor, before he knew his mother was a Shadow, before he knew his life was a lie, before he'd been a killer. He'd started to become too lax in his training but that had been rectified now. The muggle world was still strange to him anyway, being with the Knoxes for Christmas only sought to remind him how different he was and it had nothing to do with being deaf. Putting up decorations and a tree was an alien concept to him, even the brightly colored wrapping paper was a far cry from the bland papers he chose. He'd much rather be back in Hogwarts. Maurice had spent so much time in magic schools growing up - much more than his actual home - that he actually considered them more his real home than his actual home was, whether with Roman or Cade.
He woke up early as he always did, a habit long since carried over from the Shadow school and dressed because it was the proper thing to do. The pain often woke him anyway, from the writhing skeletal snake symbol on his chest or a similar sensation on his back. And it did move. It disturbed him, damn that Alzay. Cade and Orous were also early risers, waking up around the same time he was. Orous grinned as he wished Cade a merry Christmas and hugged him, then he turned around and did the same to Maurice himself. Maurice wasn't used to being hugged, he wasn't sure whether it was wrong to like it or not. He supposed it didn't matter, he wasn't used to this kind of life and he never would be. He accepted that. He settled down on his spot on the couch while Cade started sorting out the presents beneath the tree, Maurice had used magic to make the star sparkle like in Beauxbatons.
Maurice had come to realize recently that he wasn't like the others, the more he saw them with their families and listened to them obsessing over dating the more he understood. They could never see his perspective, they thought he was outright crazy because they hadn't been brought up that way. Everyone was a soldier now, but not everyone was just a soldier. They could be soldiers but they weren't going to lose the other parts of them, Maurice shouldn't expect it of them to focus solely on the soldier aspect. Maurice was just a soldier though, his life revolved around it and despite the Shadows having taught him, it was all he knew. Michael was right, he wasn't evil but he had an edge they didn't have because they hadn't been trained solely for that purpose.
And he was going to use it. The Shadows had wanted him to fight, he would, he would fight them. He would do everything in his power to destroy them, have the courage to do things his friends would not because all wasn't good or fair in war. Unlike his friends though, Maurice knew he would die in the process. A soldier was all he was, there would be no place for him in the peaceful aftermath. Besides, he'd used Dark Magic, he'd used every single Unforgivable Curse successfully now. He'd broken the law repeatedly and unashamedly. There would be no place for him when the war was over, assuming they didn't lose but they'd either win or he'd die trying so his friends and his brother could have the peaceful lives they craved and deserved. Whatever it takes. Even if his friends didn't agree with it.
'For you,' Cade signed and abruptly dragged Maurice from his line of thought, gesturing to one of three piles of presents.
"I get presents?" Maurice wondered in confusion, he'd expected from his friends and brother but there were the bright muggle paper wrappings in his pile as well from Cade, "Why would you get me presents?"
'It's Christmas.'
"But you don't know me like Orous, I'm not your son."
'You're in my care, why wouldn't I get you Christmas presents?'
Cade was so strange, Maurice really didn't understand him. Maurice didn't understand why Albus had gotten him a gift either, had he not made it clear to Albus that he hated him for attacking him? Was he not speaking loudly or clearly enough for him to understand? Had he missed something about Christmas suddenly being to get random people who you didn't know and people you hated presents instead of just those you cared about? Actually, Albus had gotten him a pretty decent present. A book entitled Secrets of the Soul that he'd seen and wanted, he'd left it because he wasn't sure he could afford it on top of Christmas gifts and they came first. He'd been trying to scour the Library and bookshops for information on magical binding, Orous and Scorpius may not like the idea but he thought using the Shadow Master's connection against him was good. It was either use it against him or let him use it against you, not being quite sure how they'd done it made it difficult to find information but the book had looked promising. He also hadn't expected a present from Rose but had gotten one, he missed the challenge of debating with her of late and kept expecting an out lash from her because of his scars. She may not know of them on the rest of his body but he had stopped wearing the gloves to cover the blood quill scars on his hands, Maurice thought it looked worse than Latimer and she always moaned at him. Maurice thought she might've just gone mad.
He spent most of the day being asked if he wanted to do something or what he wanted to do, as if Cade was trying to make him feel included. Maurice thought this pointless, he clearly knew nothing about a real Christmas so what was the point in asking him? He would much rather read any of the new books he'd gotten anyway, he got comfortable on the couch to read while they played those 'videogames' before putting on a 'movies' thing. Maurice occasionally looked up to keep an eye on them and see the brightly colored game thing they played, the movie interested him slightly more. Cade had put on words so he could follow the plot if he desired but that wasn't what drew his attention, one part had a woman in her underwear briefly. It was natural to be curious, not being a woman and all. That... That was it, the curves of her body were quite different. Cade offered him some popcorn and in the spirit of fitting in, he tried it and was surprised at how nice it actually tasted. He ended up sharing the bowl with the two of them - and occasionally one of the dogs - and watching the movie, he was sorely disappointed that the woman never stripped down to her underwear again. Maurice was just going to pretend that thought hadn't crossed his mind. Stupid curiosity.
Cade left to start making dinner after that, Orous took it upon himself to try teach Maurice how to play some 'Mario' game that he'd been playing with Cade before. Maurice had no interest in those videogames but he feigned interest for Orous' sake, Orous was his twin brother and he should pay attention to the things he liked even outside the magical world. As long as it wasn't about dating, he was fine. Even if he had to play the confusing game, you hit the control thing to move the person on the screen thing which was just a bizarre way to do it. After that, Maurice had his first real Christmas dinner in a home, minus gravy because Maurice hated the taste of the stuff. Turkey and ham, mashed potatoes, vegetables, just like he'd read in books. It maybe wasn't to the same standards as Hogwarts say but Cade's cooking was decent, there was something to be said for a smaller gathering with just people you cared about than a random assortment of extra people there as well. It was nice.
Part 4: Thornes and Things
Michael was ecstatic to see Annie there waiting for him on the platform, all his doubts and concerns were obliterated in an instant. He was so happy that he almost cried as he hugged her, to see her again after so long. Honestly he'd been half-sure he'd die before he got to see her again until that moment, especially considering everything. He held on to her, still resisting the urge to cry and blurt out how much he'd missed her. And he had missed her, five years was far too long to go without seeing someone you loved. He found himself at an utter loss for words though when they finally pulled apart, her eyes were bagged with tiredness but she seemed otherwise alright.
"Long time no see, huh?" Annie commented and ran a hand through her hair just as he did the same.
He noticed Scorpius before he could agree with her and got sucked into Scorpius' attempt to leave with Varanian, he was surprised, concerned - and oddly impressed - that she'd pegged Varanian. Michael had only noticed because of the voice being Varanian's and not Mr Malfoy's, he hadn't even noticed Varanian before. Naturally, Scorpius and Varanian would just leave him without giving Annie any kind of explanation or even saying goodbye, he had no idea what he was allowed to tell her. She very much wanted to know as they got to the rental car she was using to head to the apartment. He wasn't going to lie to her but he also didn't want to break Scorpius and Varanian's trust even if he was annoyed with them, he decided to try be as truthful without giving away too much as much as possible.
He wasn't quite sure how to classify Scorpius and Varanian's relationship so he told her it was a friend and teacher, teaching him some extra magic which his Dad didn't approve of. It was essentially true, Mr Malfoy would probably have more problem with Varanian being a fugitive but he also was against Scorpius fighting the Shadows and learning extra magic for it fell into that. He admitted there was more to it than that but it was the general gist, Annie thought this was acceptable. Instead she asked about the fact he had friends, which he wouldn't actually have if not for her advice and he started telling her about them. He actually had a strangely high number of friends. They made it back to Jack's apartment, where Jack was hopping around in circles on one leg until he spotted them and abruptly stopped.
"Mikey!" Jack greeted him happily and rushed over to hug him, Michael was too busy scowling to hug him back. Especially considering how he'd left things.
"Were you just hopping around on one foot?" Michael wondered as Jack pulled away, his smiled wavering.
"No."
"I'm pretty sure you were," Annie agreed and Jack scowled at her darkly.
"I wasn't."
"Where were you anyway?"
"I had stuff to do, I told you!" Jack snapped at her, "What is with all the questions!? I have to go again now, see you shortly."
"Bye, I guess," Annie shrugged uncertainly as Jack abruptly left, Michael frowned after him.
"What's up with Jack?" Michael asked worriedly.
"No clue. He's been like this since I got out of jail, does weird things sometimes and bites your head off if you say anything to deny it. He also frequently leaves but never says where he goes and manages to move places really quietly sometimes. Want to see his color wall?"
"Color wall?" Michael wondered and Annie led him through to Jack's room where there was a wall with random pictures of colors stuck to it, "Why-"
"I have no idea. He just likes colors all of a sudden, that's the only explanation he'll give."
"Well that's... weird," Michael admitted with concern and Annie could only nod in agreement.
Annie was pretty spot on with her description of his behavior. Jack was in and out like a yo-yo, he never said where he was going and he didn't always take his motorcycle with him. More than once, Michael heard him talking to himself and was snapped at in fierce denial if he said anything. He also sometimes walked in on him doing strange things like the hopping on one foot but he was also denied. Aside from that, Jack seemed to decide to just not mention how he'd ran away before. Jack also seemed to eat and drink more than usual, Michael - nor Annie - had any idea what was going on with him though. Jack did try to spend more time with him when he was around though but it was too little, too late. Michael had meant what he said to him before, there was no hope for them.
He also discovered Crystal was still in hospital when Annie took him to visit her, she was suffering from severe pneumonia and was too sick for the operation. He couldn't believe Jack hadn't told him how badly she was doing, did he not know how serious pneumonia could be? Especially in someone with a pre-existing medical condition like Crystal, it was putting more strain on her already weak defected heart. Jack should know how bad she was, complications had caused her organs to fail and she was now in intensive care with just a fifty percent chance of surviving. She had a machine to help her breathe so even when she was conscious, she couldn't speak, mostly Michael just sat by her side and held her clammy hand. When she was awake, she would squeeze back. Sometimes she seemed to try to smile, other times silent tears rolled down her cheeks. He talked to her when she was awake to try keep her spirits up, smiling a fake smile and trying to give her hope he didn't have.
"Do you think she'll be okay?" Michael asked worriedly when they got back, sitting on the couch while Annie was coming back from the bathroom. She was a paramedic after all, or had been, "Crystal, I mean."
"I know who you mean," Annie confirmed and took a deep breath as she sat beside him, "You know the odds, I've seen people die from this and seen people pull through. She survived the worst of it so that's always a positive, she's a fighter like you so she could make it."
"What if... What if she's tired of fighting?" Michael wondered and heard his voice choking up, he tried to fight it. He didn't want to cry in front of her, he didn't want to cry at all. He was just so shocked how bad Crystal was doing and Jack hadn't told him, he probably didn't even care. Michael didn't think he could cope with that right now.
"We're all tired of fighting, it doesn't mean we don't still do it."
"I don't want her to die," Michael whispered stupidly, he buried his face in his hands to hide his shameful tears but felt his shoulders starting to shake regardless. He felt a hesitant arm go around comfortingly, he rested his head against her shoulder and let her hug him as he cried.
Once Alzay was satisfied that Cade didn't seem like he would leave her after coming off Love Potion, she decided it was time to take care of the mudblood babysitter she'd been using. Alzay had her write a suicide note, quite easy to pull off as the mudblood retained their handwriting under the Imperius Curse. Alzay then took her to the coast to make it look like she'd jumped, had the woman stand up against the edge. It was an odd sensation she felt, she knew the mudblood was struggling against the curse, she could practically hear the desperate thoughts of life. It would be easy to make her jump but Alzay wanted to make sure she died or covering her crimes would've been pointless, she raised her wand at the woman's back to cast the curse... But found it felt oddly wrong to kill someone with a spell to the back. She made the mudblood turn around to face her, tears glistening but unable to fall. Eyes pleading Alzay to spare her, promising over and over in her mind that she wouldn't tell if she could just live.
"Avada Kedavra," Alzay spoke and flicked her wand.
The jet of green light it struck the mudblood's left eye and the corpse hurtled off the cliff. Her third kill. Alzay didn't even recall the woman's name unless she really thought about it, it had been a soulless mudblood like the man her mother had abandoned her and her father for. Contrary to killing her mother, Alzay felt nothing. Then again, she supposed if she could kill her own mother than anyone else was just meaningless. Still, wasn't killing supposed to be difficult? Weren't you supposed to feel something? Even for something as hated and valueless like a mudblood. Nothing. She got away with it too, nothing in the obituary or funeral - Alzay was invited due to employing her - suggested anything other and she didn't have to talk to anyone foe the Ministry. She thought the Ministry must be either extremely incompetent or that she was just extremely intelligent to get away with crimes, she thought the latter.
"Nice kill," a voice commented and she whirled around to see Rabastan watching her with interest, Alzay scowled.
"I didn't hear you apparate," Alzay pointed out.
"Because I didn't apparate."
"Then how did you get here?" Alzay wondered curiously and Rabastan smiled as he walked over to her.
"Do you really want to know?" Rabastan asked her in an almost patronizing tone but continued before she could reply, "I can tell you because his doesn't have to be a one-time deal. You really could benefit from becoming more involved, becoming a real part of our organization. The Master is quite fair and you clearly have some skill, smarts and the mindset to carry out this kind of thing."
"You mean killing?"
"Not just that but yes," Rabastan confirmed conversationally, "Your Legilimancy mentor Xerxes Seneca for examples was acquired for the same reasons I believe you did, he was skilled and... shall we say not a subscriber to the common morality since morals are subjective to what you believe after all. He's a coward, not much use in a fight despite his talents and unwilling to bloody his hands but he makes a good teacher. You're no teacher though, you're a killer. You're not afraid to fight for what you want or believe, you're not afraid to do horrible things to people you think deserve it but you have intelligence. You're almost exactly the goal we aim for when training. You could do well for yourself with us, your father too."
"I don't even know what your 'us' is called," Alzay told him truthfully, "Nor do I really get what you want. You really think you can rule the world or whatever?"
"You really think you can get away with murder?"
"Yes."
"You did not always think so though, did you? The more you commit crime, the more you realize how easy it is with careful planning and a willingness to do what is necessary. The master's goals are no different, just on a grander scale with more planning and nerve needed. I joined the master's cause before Voldemort had fallen the final time, that's how much faith I have that the master can succeed where the Dark Lord failed. We're setting up the dominoes now, in a few more years we'll be ready to watch them fall. Besides, is it not better to fight for the world you want then settle for a world you hate?"
"Okay," Alzay agreed hesitantly, she still wasn't convinced but she was interested, "Tell me more."
And Rabastan told her, showed her. About the Specters and their uses, about the Soul Eaters themselves, about the training process - and how Orous would be sent to the training tower too - and more detail on how they were achieving their goal. The more she learned, the more confidence she had in their plans and was actually quite impressed with this the Shadow Master. Rabastan would tell her a fair bit but he still had yet to reveal the Shadow Master's identity or let her meet the guy, or guys. Alzay was starting to suspect there was no Shadow Master but it rather a group of people - Rabastan being one of them - in charge because of his reluctance, plus it was a lot for one person to coordinate and remember alone. She still rather liked Rabastan though, he was actually someone she felt she could view as an equal and began an affair with him.
She was surprised to hear from Roman again, randomly trying to pawn off Sathan - or Maurice now apparently - which scared her at first as she'd hoped to spare him from being sent to the training tower. Trust Roman to screw things up as always, if she wasn't expected Cade back soon then she'd have been much harsher in her punishment of him. However Maurice's deafness changed things, was he even capable of magic if he was couldn't hear? Orous looked a freak but he would still be a perfectly capable wizard at least, Orous became her new favorite. She saw a Specter glide in and allowed it to enter her - Rabastan frequently used them for communicating, speaking through the Specter directly into her mind when it shared her body. You got used to the cold feeling after a while - where it was suggested she get Roman to send Maurice, she called him back and quickly turned a piece of paper into a shoddily put together pamphlet which advertised the training tower as a proper school. Roman bought it apparently - was he completely stupid? - and she didn't have to send Orous there, she did want him to be a Soul Eater but she was oddly opposed to the idea of him being put through the blood quill regime.
Alzay soon settled into a life of juggling, playing nice wife with Cade, dutiful worker with the Ministry and Soul Eater with Rabastan. Soul Eater was definitely her favorite, Rabastan was insistent on training her though, talented she may be but she hadn't exactly had soldier in mind. She spent many hours having her dueling skills honed by Soul Eaters, taught new spells, taught how to think strategically, how to fight multiple opponents and even some focusing on how to lead others to do the same. She was also taught to torture someone, well she could do that but using it to gather information was slightly different and muggles were plentiful for practice. They also started trying to teach her to have a basic use of wandless magic, she thought it was the first thing she'd ever really struggled to learn. Rabastan was also oddly focused on her learning extra languages since taking over the world was on a global scale, she thought it was tedious and looked into any fast ways to learn languages like a translator or potion or something. She just told Cade she had extra work - it wasn't like the idiot could Floo to the Ministry to check - and blew off his pitiful attempts for them to spend time together as a family. Stupid Cade, he wasn't family.
Maurice started at the training tower as planned, Roman was useless and she hoped she could see his face in the years to come when he saw his son become a Dark Wizard. Rabastan kept her informed of his progress without her asking and despite disliking Maurice, she found herself unable to tell him not to keep her in the loop. She actually found herself impressed, she hadn't expected him to be able to do anything because he was deaf but he could. In contrast, Orous wasn't even potty-trained much to her disappointment. Orous was worse than his deaf twin, Alzay was immensely frustrated. She wasn't sure whether to blame Roman for passing on his lack of intelligence or blame Cade for imprinting muggle stupidity upon him, she decided on Cade after an incident in the spring.
It led to her lashing out and torturing Cade for the first time, it felt damn good to finally give the piece of garbage what he deserved. But he shocked her by grabbing her wand arm, she had absolutely no idea how to react to that. She was clearly superior but physically, Cade was stronger especially since staying in shape was necessary for his job. Grabbing another witch or wizard's wand arm like that was just... just not done and most certainly not after torture, Cade seemed equally stunned at least. Alzay thought it was cute he didn't know how to react to her magic and was borderline afraid, she tried to make it up to him but she still thought he seemed somewhat distant. Oh well, it wasn't like he would know or be able to get the Aurors after her for using an Unforgivable Curse.
Orous finally learned to be potty-trained around turning three, which Maurice had mastered a year earlier. She still found herself thinking oddly of her younger son and was interested in his progress, he was not just on par with his classmates by now but was even noted as being quite intelligent. The only thing Orous could do better was speaking and listening, Maurice was being taught to speak so he would be able to use spells but usually spoke through hand signing apparently. Alzay took it upon herself to learn this strange way of communicating in case she ever was in contact with him, she thought the whole hand thing was silly really but she still mastered it. An idea occurred to her about it when she was dutifully spending time with Cade, watching a foreign language movie with words so they could follow the story without speaking the language, it was actually quite useful. Not for the stupid muggle movie but the idea of words translating a language to understand so you could follow in real life, it would useful in her languages or even for Maurice because he wouldn't need to watch people's hands anymore. There had to be some kind of magical equivalent, she'd definitely look into it.
And then there was Annie herself. Michael spent more time with her than either of his parents, which was a good thing considering they pretty much had to get to know each other again. Sometimes they just watched TV and talked about trivial things, neither had exactly had access to a TV for a while so they were on the same level there. Sometimes Annie took him out somewhere for a drive, from shops - not that they really bought much if at all - to an ice rink to take their minds off things. She didn't say anything but he thought she liked the freedom she had again, she was still have having trouble sleeping though as evidenced by the bags beneath her eyes and newfound survival on coffee but less alcohol at least. She took him to Diagon Alley to get his dress robes and Michael thought his suspicions on her being a witch were further confirmed, Jack had been unable to see the Leaky Cauldron until Michael pointed it out because it was protected from muggles like that. Annie actually pointed it out to him to ask if that was the right place, before he'd said a word or even spotted it himself.
And sometimes they did talk about more serious thing, they were pacing themselves but Michael was slowly filling her on the five years of life that she'd missed, as well as giving a better description than Jack's butchered one on the magical world. He didn't bring up her being a witch, he wanted to make sure she knew more about magic and was alright with it first. If she was still freaked out by magic then any chance of her reacting well to news of being a witch was gone, he told himself he'd tell her before the wedding though. It was the first time he'd ever really talked about Bob's abuse in more detail too, he'd told Leebin he didn't want to talk about it because he didn't want his help. He trusted Annie though, it was oddly cathartic to get it out there. Annie listened quite patiently and encouraged him but her expression was set. He could see the glint of hatred and anger in her eyes every time Michael said Bob's name or mentioned being hurt, things tended to catch fire or suddenly spark at those times or a random knife would materialize for a while. The microwave completely exploded when he told her about Bob breaking his wrist after his First Year. Annie never said anything when things like that happened, brushing it off as stupid appliances like she'd done in the past. He was tempted to stop but there was something he was dying to know.
"Do you know how Bob died?" Michael asked when she came back over from cleaning up the ruined microwave.
"Just natural causes, a heart attack," Annie shrugged as she leaned back on the chair and put her feet up as she tended to do, "Good thing too, I'd have killed the bugger if he wasn't already dead."
"Isn't that a bit weird that he suddenly died though?"
"A bit but he was in his forties, some people age fast and he certainly didn't eat or drink healthy. The stress of being imprisoned might've contributed. Why? Does it bother you?"
"That he suspiciously died? Yes," Michael admitted truthfully, "Even though he was a bastard, it still just doesn't sit right."
"I'll ask Jack if he knows anything else since he's the one who told me, if it'll make you feel better."
"It would."
"Since you seem to have developed some kind of issue with Jack," Annie commented and Michael ran a hand through his hair nervously.
"You noticed that?"
"Yes, Michael, I have eyes. What's the deal? Just because he's gone a little nuts is a sad reason to turn on him."
"It's not because of that," Michael assured her immediately, "I'm just fed up giving him chances, he's never around or there. It's too late. I'm done trying... I'm sorry if that bothers you but its how I feel."
"You can feel how you want, he's your Dad not mine," Annie shrugged, "I get it, he's fucked up enough with you. Jack has his flaws but he does love you, I hope you know that."
"I know but that doesn't make it okay, love isn't always enough."
"Indeed," Annie nodded as she went to sip her beer bottle, frowning, "Warm beer, how lovely. Forgot to plug the fridge back in after it started sparking earlier."
"You know those things kind of happen around you, a lot," Michael commented, trying to smoothly segue into her being a witch as tomorrow was the day she was dropping him off to Grimmauld Place for the wedding. He'd rather not go but his friends expected him too and Jack thought it would take his mind off of everything with Crystal.
"I know, I have such lousy luck with technology."
"You know, weird stuff is a sign of magic. Like the things that happened to me."
"You said," Annie pointed out as she inclined her head, eying him slightly suspiciously as if knowing he was leading up to something.
"And those same kinds of things that happened to me happened to you, are still happen-"
"I'm not a witch," Annie interrupted him seriously.
"Come on," Michael protested, "Weird things happened to me that was because I was magical, it happened to you too and still does. You were born the time when muggle-borns weren't allowed to Hogwarts so it makes perfect sense."
"It makes absolutely no sense! Look, I can accept that magic is real, I can accept that all those supernatural things I wrote off as fiction is real, I can accept there's a whole magical world I didn't know about, I can accept most things I believed were wrong, I can accept that you're a wizard, I can accept that you're an actual werewolf, I can accept a charred stick can perform feats of power but not that."
"You are a witch," Michael insisted and Annie forcefully put her chair back to a normal sitting position.
"Don't!" Annie snapped angrily, surprising him, "Don't you sit there and tell me I'm a witch! That all those times I was picked on for being a freak, taunted, isolated, have the shit kicked of me was all for nothing! That all those times my teachers, my foster parents, my social workers, my shrinks told me I was too disturbed, that I had something seriously wrong with me, that I was actually beyond help, that I was fucked up in the head, don't say it was all for nothing! Don't tell me that all those times they sent me to be drugged up to my eyeballs in a goddamn mental institution was for nothing! Don't tell me I was right and they were wrong! Don't tell me there was a rational explanation! Don't tell me everything I've been through was for nothing! Don't, Michael! I can't accept that!"
As if to prove her wrong, the light bulb over their heads abruptly blew up and showered the table in small shards of glass. It left them in gloomy shadow, the only light coming from every direction but over their heads. Annie's silhouette hung her head in the darkness. The ticking clock was the only sound.
"I erm... I didn't know you went to a mental institution," Michael said quietly after a few minutes of nothing, deciding it was best to let her being a witch go for the moment. He wasn't sure how to react to that.
"You don't even know what Annie's short for," Annie shrugged and swallowed, "You erm... best be getting to bed, you have to go to London tomorrow. I'll clean this up."
"Okay," Michael agreed as he stood and started to move, pausing slightly as she started to clean up the mess but he didn't want her to hate him, "I erm... I'm sorry."
"Its fine, Michael. Just go get some rest."
Part 5: Shattering
Annie seemed to just pretend the previous night's conversation had never happened, Michael went along with it but he still needed for her to accept being a witch. And it wasn't him just wanting a magical relative, he thought she'd be happier if she could embrace being magical and safer if she learned to control it. Maybe she'd even stop drinking if she was happier. He didn't have time to worry about that though or about Crystal's illness or about Jack's odd behavior, he had the wedding to go through and his transformation. His Wolfsbane regime started the day of the wedding, the countdown to hell began. He hated being a werewolf. He hated being himself.
Staying with the Potters wasn't actually that bad, Mrs Potter was nice enough and Mr Potter wasn't around. He shared with Albus and Vern like he had last year, James was actually staying away from him for once. Vern seemed kind of down but Albus was in good spirits though, it took both of their minds off things. It was somewhat interesting to see a magical wedding, although he'd still rather be home and he didn't know the bride or groom. He wished Mirra could be there, she loved dancing. She'd wanted to be a dancer before her parents died, now she just wanted to get a good Ministry job to help support her younger siblings but she still loved dancing and had encouraged him to dance for the both of them. He got sucked into listening to Mr Potter and Mr Lupin telling him about Mr Lupin's father, the werewolf Remus Lupin. Michael thought it was probably to try make him feel better about being a werewolf but it did the exact opposite. Remus had struggled with his condition all his life, been an outcast because of it and struggled to find work or let himself be close to people. When he finally did get a wife he loved and he was done freaking out over his condition, they died and never got to see their son grow up. It was kind of depressing, poor Remus.
Michael got away as soon as he could, he didn't want to be disrespectful but he really didn't want to talk about werewolves or being a werewolf. He asked the first girl he saw - which happened to be Roxy - to dance and kept dancing so he'd seem busy, except for slow dances because they were more... intimate. He danced with Lily too as she asked him to show her how, he was just copying what everyone else was doing though with coordinated success. This also led to him dancing with Rose, he didn't want to hurt her feelings by refusing when she'd heard him agree to Lily. He didn't want to dance without her, he hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't interested in dating her anymore but he would be lying if he said he no longer liked her. Even with her increasingly vain attitude and ridiculous dye job. He wondered if that made him a horrible person, it wasn't like he was ever going to act on it. He couldn't even look at her without thinking of almost killing her, she was safer away from him. Besides, he did like Mirra. She was really nice and good to him, liked him for who he was and didn't care about his condition or scars.
After that the secrets all came out and the wedding kind of ended, Michael went back with the Potters and was picked up by Annie. Christmas was unusual, Jack had put up a tree while he'd been gone and actually seemed to be trying to stick to his promises. If only Michael wasn't too old for Christmas. He hoped the little ones had a good Christmas though, they deserved it. After all, Bob's death had left them without a father and Crystal was still in hospital, they probably hadn't seen her in months either. Michael missed them. He also felt guilty on Christmas, Jack and Annie had hardly any presents compared to him. He was glad to get a lot of clothes though, almost everything he had was too small. He and Annie made some semblance of Christmas dinner, the rest of the day was mostly spent with Crystal in the hospital. Michael left her present by her bedside for when she got better, assuming she did anyway.
It occurred to him on Boxing Day that it had been exactly a year since his arm had been cinderized, it was still horrifically scarred but he was lucky to have full use of it thanks to magic. He said as much to Annie after he finished telling her about the Ministry attack, she was very interested in how it healed. Michael had no idea why it had not occurred to him before that she might be as intrigued by magical healing as he was, he cheered up greatly and was excited to tell her all about it as it wasn't something his friends cared about. In fact, Albus was quite squeamish about it and Michael didn't blame him, it was a fairly weird thing for him to like but he loved it. Annie however, was fascinated as he told her about the spells and potions, the magical diseases, he showed her the books he had on magical healing. It felt so good to be able to talk about something he was passionate about that he didn't usually get to speak about, he didn't recall ever seeing Annie so genuinely interested in something either.
His good mood only started to wane as the moon grew stronger, sapping his strength and energy. It varied from full moon to full moon, some moons would be incredibly draining for days before or after while others barely affected you and you could bounce back quickly. It varied between individuals too, one awful moon for some would be an easy one for others. This moon was particularly bad, Michael had to drag himself out of bed and even walking into the sitting room made him tired enough to want to sleep forever. He couldn't visit Crystal any more - which they had started to do daily - and the trips out also stopped, he was just shattered. Annie said maybe he should stay in bed but Michael was determined to not let it get in the way of his life as much as possible, he could ignore the cravings for meat and continue eating balanced good so he could ignore the fatigue. Or at least try. He frequently fell into naps if he was left alone for even a minute but he could stay focused on conversations.
"You really hate this, don't you?" Annie said to him as they sat at the table on the afternoon of the full moon, Michael had just been staring at his hot chocolate in dread. He just nodded, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's to talk about?" Michael shrugged.
"Not sleeping, not caring about classes, refusing to rest when you need it and attacking yourself as a werewolf. I may not know a ton about werewolves but I know you, I know werewolves scared the fuck out of you as a kid and I can see you're hurting, struggling with this."
"I'm a monster, why wouldn't I struggle with that?" Michael pointed out, not wanting to talk about something that was quite obvious. He hadn't wanted to talk about it with Scorpius and he didn't want to talk about to talk about it with Annie either.
"You've got to take better care of yourself, isn't that what I taught you? Werewolf or not, hurting yourself is not okay. Nor is refusing to rest, you can't fight your condition. You just have to accept it and adapt to it, it's not fair and it sucks but that's the way life is," Annie told him firmly and he looked up in surprise, "You think being a werewolf makes you a monster? Humans are monsters too, look at Bob, look at Robin, look at those guys who attacked me, look at the jails full of people convicted for hurting people, look at the hospitals full of people hurt by others, look at the graves full of people murdered. Never be surprised by the lengths humans go through to hurt each other. If you define yourself by what you are then you were a monster thirteen years before you became a werewolf. What really matters is who you are and who you are is not a monster."
"I killed a man! I actually killed someone and I tried to kill my friends. That's something a monster would do."
"You weren't exactly thinking."
"But I was!" Michael protested and felt tears prick behind his eyes at the flash of memory, "I hated Greyback. I hated him for hurting my family, I hated him for killing my friend's parents and I hated him for what he'd done to me. I hated him. And in that instant I wanted him to pay, I wanted him to die. Even as I lost my mind, that hatred survived and the first thing werewolf me did was lunge at Greyback and kill him instead of my friends. It acted on my final feelings and tore out his throat, I can remember it so vividly and it comes to me every time I close my eyes to sleep. I killed him."
"What would've happened if you hadn't?" Annie asked him quietly after a minute of silence, Michael met her sapphire eyes sadly as he swallowed.
"Why?"
"Humor me."
"I guess I would've fallen under Greyback's influence like the others attacking, we would've killed Scorpius and Rose then attacked the others in Hogsmeade unless Greyback killed me first."
"Then what?"
"I guess Florian would've succeeded in attacking the school and Mordekai wouldn't have been able to call off the werewolves since Greyback would still be alive," Michael realized but frowned, "What does it matter what would've happened? The point is I did a terrible thing."
"I've killed before too, Michael, remember? Except I was in control of my mind and when that knife appeared in my hand, I didn't know why or how but it was my only chance and I took it. I lunged for the jugular because I knew it was vulnerable and I needed him to stay down, the second guy had a knife himself so I stabbed at the femoral in his leg because I knew it was just as damaging but easier to reach. I knew both were fatal but somehow it didn't cross my surface thoughts while I was desperately fighting for survival, I didn't even try to save them. I just staggered back as far as my broken body could go before slumping to the ground and watching the last few moments of their lives. And they were both dead, just like that. I was just relieved it was over, then I dropped the knife as I realized what I'd done," Annie recounted and squeezed her eyes shut against the painful memory, she swallowed and reopened them, "I think about what I did and then I think about what would've happened if I hadn't, which is the worst outcome? Same goes for you. You may regret what you did but you'd probably regret it more if you hadn't. Am I right?"
"Yeah," Michael admitted hesitantly after a minute.
"And you remind yourself of that when Greyback tries to haunt you. You're not a monster, he's the monster and the fact you feel bad for ridding the world of such a twisted psychopath is a testament to how much you're not a monster."
"I still feel like one," Michael muttered quietly as he hung his head, it was almost time, "I should go to my room now for the transformation."
"Strip down and put on a towel then I'll join you."
"What?"
"You don't really think I'm going to let you go through that painful transformation by yourself when you attack yourself? No. I'm going to stay with you until you fall asleep or we can watch a movie or something, I'm not letting you hurt yourself. And don't even try to argue."
Michael decided it was best not to argue, he had no time to anyway. He simply nodded and slipped into his room after a grabbing a towel, stripping to spare his clothes being destroyed and the towel to cover his shame. He shivered at the cold and gazed out the window, he'd just called to Annie it was okay when it started before he spotted the moon. The pain never lessened and his scream became a howl of agony as his body started tearing itself apart violently from every different direction, hair started sprouting and he felt a resurgence of energy as he became a werewolf. His now powerful jaws tried to snap at the fur forcing its way through his skin in frustration and disgust but he had to stop as Annie bopped him on the nose, he couldn't risk accidentally biting her instead. And then it was over. He stood as a hulking four-legged beast, Annie just looked at him for a moment.
"Wait there for a minute, I have to show you something," Annie offered abruptly and hurried away, returning quickly with a mirror, "You want real proof that you're not a monster and still yourself? Look."
With that, Annie held up the mirror to show him himself. He went to cringe in disgust, not wanting to look at his monstrous form but stopped when he realized what she wanted him to look at. His eyes. His magical prosthetic was usually golden because it picked up on his now werewolf blood while his natural was his normal hazel, giving him mismatched eyes. However now they were different. His natural eye had turned golden in the transformation as expected but the prosthetic had also changed, it had turned a dazzling hazel because it apparently picked up on the humanity buried within. He smiled a sad smile that probably wasn't capable of being recognized and for the first time in months, he had a proper night's sleep that wasn't caused by exhaustion from the transformations.
Flame told him that the immense pain was a spell used as a punishment since the boy was behind, Maurice wished it was the last time he'd have to experience it. He didn't get his wish. Seemingly just after that, it was decided that it was time for him to learn how to start learning how to write. Maurice was given a long black quill and told to copy down the letter 'A' which seemed simple enough but when he started to write, he felt a searing pain as if his hand was being cut. He looked at his hand and saw a shabbily lopsided 'A' cut into his skin, the exact same as the shining red letter now on the parchment. He looked at Flame in horror, the teen's expression was very set and his eyes cold.
'Keep going. You need to write it enough to fill the whole page,' Flame signed and Maurice went to write it again but stopped as the pain came again, blinking back tears.
'It hurts me,' Maurice explained and gestured to his hand.
'I know. Keep going.'
'No,' Maurice insisted determinedly, it had never hurt him to scribble with colors at home. Why wouldn't they just let him go home? 'Not when it hurts.'
'It's supposed to hurt.'
Maurice felt someone tap his shoulder, Taker - the teacher of the class - who talked words to Flame and gestured at Maurice. Flame swallowed and the teacher abruptly flicked his wand at Maurice, he felt the excruciating pain he'd felt defending the boy before. He was on the ground before he knew it, his body writhing and screaming against his wishes to escape the agony it was trapped in as invisible knives tore through him. It stopped although the waves of receding pain continued to cascade through him, he curled into a ball as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He was quickly hauled to his feet however by Flame, shoved back into the seat and Taker grasped his head to make him look.
'Which hurts more?' Taker asked, 'The quill or the spell. Your choice which one you have to go through.'
'I want to go home,' Maurice signed desperately, 'I want my Daddy, I don't want to be hurt at all.'
'That's not an option, you're a soldier now.
'I don't want to be a soldier!' Maurice frantically signed but Taker had already withdrawn his wand again.
Maurice grabbed the quill and shakily started to write, 'A', 'A', 'A' over and over again, letting the pain cut through his skin. His falling tears mixed with the blood on the page to make it all illegible, the words were very visibly ingrained into his flesh though. After class, he was given a potion and life carried on as normal. He soon came to dread writing, going over the alphabet again and again, upper case and lower case again and again, in Greek and Runic too again and again, numbers as well again and again. Flame assured him when his writing was up to standard he'd be allowed to stop, he did his best but nothing seemed to classify as good enough. It wasn't just his hand either, the words cut into a different part of his body with every use and the pain lingered long after the lesson's end. On top of his back that still hurt sometimes.
And that wasn't the only change in routine, a fifth class was added to get him to learn how to talk. Instead of waking him to make sure he brushed his teeth, Flame took him to a room with just one of the other teachers. Apparently there was more to it than just opening and closing your mouth, different sounds had different shapes you needed to make with your mouth and tongue, different vibrations with your throat. Maurice had to learn and mimic the different patterns, mostly by observing the teacher or Flame speak the letter, being shown magically what his mouth needed to do and being allowed to feel the vibrations made by putting his hand to Flame's throat. It was an abysmal class, Maurice never had idea if he was doing right or not because he was incapable of knowing whether it was working. The teacher was also extremely fond of the spell that caused pain, anything done wrong and he'd get a shot of agony. Flame started saying what he was signing to him to try get him used to watching the lip movements for words even outside of class and encouraged him to do the same, it was so difficult to do and remember. What cruel psychopath invented talking?
Maurice was utterly miserable. He didn't want to be in pain, he just wanted to home to his Daddy with his toys. Why was his Daddy not there to hold him close and take away his pain? Was Flame right? Did his Daddy just not love him anymore? He started crying himself to sleep at night and resisting against Flame's attempts to get him up and to the painful classes, he'd fight and kick and hit and bite to stay away from the pain. Flame always won though, he was bigger and stronger. Maurice really didn't understand why this was happening to him, he wasn't a soldier and he had no desire to become a soldier either. What had he done to deserve this? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.
'Fine!' Flame signed angrily one morning when Maurice was fighting against going to class, 'You really don't want to be here and be a soldier? You just want to go home to your precious Daddy?'
'Yes!' Maurice signed desperately as he blinked through his haze of tears, 'I don't want to a soldier. I want to go home. I want Daddy.'
'Fine. I will contact your Daddy and tell the teachers you refuse to be a soldier.'
On that note, Flame left a stunned Maurice alone. He smiled for the first time in what felt like months, he knew resisting would pay off. He got dressed and brushed his teeth, his hair because he thought he should be all nice and ready for his Daddy. He sat on the edge of his bed patiently waiting, a grin from both ears spread across his face despite the lingering pain resounding across his body. It didn't matter, it would be over soon when his Daddy took him away from this horrible place.
'Okay, your Daddy has been told to come and get you now,' Flame told him when he returned, 'Come on, I'll take you to the waiting room.'
'Thank you,' Maurice signed to him happily, 'You're the best.'
Flame said nothing back and instead just led him away, Maurice held his hand and skipped in joy as his smile remained fixed in place. He was so happy to be going home, so happy to see his Daddy again. His smile only started to waver when he started to recognize where they were going, the cold, dark dungeon where he'd been when he first arrived. One of his teachers was down there, the one fond of hurting him in talking lessons, Flame detangled his fingers from Maurice's.
'I'm going to go wait on your Daddy. You stay here and see what it's like to not be a soldier,' Flame told him before he left, closing the thick metallic door behind him.
Maurice barely had time to look back to the teacher before the pain started, the spell of pain obliterated any thoughts other than agony in his mind. He kept waiting for it to be lifted but it wasn't, the intense feeling of burning knives tearing through him remained. On and on, on and on. He was shaking violently when it finally stopped, the residual waves of pain were almost as bad as the actual spell. There was no time for reprieve though, the teacher flicked his wand again and the air itself seemed to suddenly attack him, pummeling his small body hard enough to leave bruises. Maurice could taste blood in his mouth and feel the salty crimson liquid oozing from his nose, every part of him was throbbing or stinging in pain.
And it still wasn't the end. The pain spell was back. Then the air beating him. Then the pain. Then the air. His teacher turned tormentor cycled between the two mercilessly. He paused occasionally to heal his wounds, only to start battering him all over again. And again. And again. And again. And again. It was worse than the quill, worse than the talking class, worse than the pain from the last time he'd been there. His eyes stung from tears, his throat raw from screams. He just wanted it to stop, he'd do anything to escape the never-ending torture. Where was his Daddy? And then it did stop. Maurice curled his trembling battered body up protectively, waiting for the next thing to come. But it didn't, instead Flame was there to pull him into a sitting position.
'Where's my Daddy?' Maurice tried to sign with his shaking fingers.
'I'm sorry,' Flame signed with a sorrowful expression, 'He was contacted and told what was happening to you, they tried to get him to come here for you but he refused.'
'What?'
'He said he didn't want you back and he didn't care what happened to you, he said he didn't love you anymore. They tried, they tried so hard to get him to come but he won't.'
'No,' Maurice signed as a fresh wave of tears poured out from the oceans of his eyes, 'I don't believe.'
'Just because you don't like the truth, it doesn't mean it's not still the truth. If he loved you then he'd be here to protect you. But he's not. People are like that.'
Maurice cried harder, his hope shattering and leaving a gaping hole of agony in its wake. His Daddy really didn't love him or want him. He was too distraught to notice the rain that suddenly started falling in the dungeon, the pain of a child abandoned because he just wasn't good enough for the only person in his life. It was a different kind of pain to what the teacher had been putting him through but it was still agony, the anguish physically hurt him deep down inside. He wrapped his arms around himself in desperation for comfort, wishing desperately it was his Daddy's arms holding him and telling him he did love him really. But that wasn't going to happen. And it killed him inside to think that, destroyed his spirit. He reached out for Flame instead but the teen brushed his bruised arms aside tenderly.
'I'm sorry but I have to go now,' Flame told him with the same solemn expression, 'I am a soldier and you don't want to be one so you have to stay here with the teacher.'
'No!' Maurice signed desperately and lunged at Flame as he tried to stand, terror at returning to the eternity of pain snapping at him, 'Don't leave me. Don't leave me here. The teacher will hurt me.'
'That's what it's like to not be a soldier, I'm afraid,' Flame signed as he pulled away again which made Maurice tumble to the floor, the teacher had already redrawn his wand, 'You wanted this remember.'
"NO!" Maurice screamed, trying to talk as his body failed to have the strength to keep up with Flame's fast walk to the exit. It must have worked because Flame looked back to him and Maurice switched to sign because he couldn't talk enough to get across what he wanted to say, 'I want to be a soldier. I want to be a soldier now. Tell him, tell him I want to be a soldier. I'll be good, I'll be a good soldier just don't let him hurt me anymore, please. I want to be soldier.'
'Is that so?' Flame signed as he came back over to him and knelt to his level.
'Yes,' Maurice promised, nodding as silent tears continued to stream down his cheeks, 'I want to be a soldier. I want to be a soldier. I want to be a soldier. I want to be a soldier. I want to be a soldier. I want to be a soldier. I will be a soldier...'
'Yes you will,' Flame told him with a smile and put a desperately needed comforting hand on Maurice's soldier, 'You'll be a good soldier.'
Sol was allowed to go home in time for Christmas, Flooing for the first time in his mother's arms as was necessary for those not yet old enough to Floo by themselves. It was the most time Scorpius had spent with his family in what felt like years, as if Sol had drawn them all together. His grandmother was the most animated she'd been since his grandfather's death, his parents too seemed happier and Scorpius remained wearily on the edge. He loved them but he didn't trust them anymore, if he thought about it too much he got angry over their treatment of him like he was a weak pathetic child but on the other hand, he did still want to get along with his family. They were his family.
He stayed completely away from Varanian's hideout around Christmas time, knowing that Varanian probably wouldn't want to be bothered on that day. He was also trying to avoid speaking to Roman, he'd been trying not to use the stone but... well Christmas was a time for family and Lyra was family too. He wanted to speak to Wyatt about becoming an animagus but was still uncertain about what to do about Varanian, whether he should take Roman's advice or tell him about the stone. It was a very nostalgic Christmas, unburdened by the Shadow War and just for one day Scorpius could almost forget about it all. Almost. His father seemed disappointed when Scorpius asked when he could go back to stay with Michael - this Varanian secretly - which his father insisted until not after the full moon, by then it would only be a weekend left before the end of break. Plus they needed to 'arrange' it with Michael's family, Scorpius reluctantly contacted Jack about it to set it up because his parents wanted to see the letters themselves. A weekend was better than nothing.
He did need to go speak to Varanian to arrange it though, he decided he'd just not say anything about the stone for the time being. Varanian agreed he should Portkey over after arriving at Michael's for a final two days of training, he also told Scorpius that Lyra's midwife had died a few days after her from seemingly natural causes as her heart had just given out but she had been getting on in years. Roman had claimed Scorpius had seen her give Lyra something odd, Varanian also suggested it might not be murder but something for her health. Scorpius knew better but he said nothing for the moment. Wyatt was unfortunately out the times he went over for sneaky shorter training sessions that felt inadequate compared to before Christmas, Scorpius needed to be stronger.
The night of the full moon came and Scorpius had already packed, he lay awake for hours wondering how Michael was doing and hoping he wouldn't attack himself. At least he'd be able to talk to Wyatt soon, learn the skill as fast as he could to help Michael. He also wondered how Leebin's baby boy was doing with his first full moon, the Healer had said the baby probably wouldn't survive it. Thinking of the tiny, sickly and premature baby did make him doubt Leebin's week old son could survive the painful transformation at such an age, regardless of what he'd snapped at the Healer. The next morning he was up early and ready to go anyway, he cuddled little Sol and felt guiltily grateful that he was healthy before kissing him goodbye. He would miss his brother while he was gone. After that, his father left with him and apparated him to the right address. His father looked rather out of place in a muggle street as they made their way to the correct apartment number, naturally his father insisted on walking him because he still thought that Scorpius was four rather than fourteen.
"You don't have to go, you know," his father said to him as they walked.
"What?" Scorpius wondered, having been lost in thought thinking about his parents' low opinion of him again.
"I know why you're doing this, Scorpius, I'm not stupid. You're afraid that we'll change our minds at the last minute and not let you go back to Hogwarts," his father guessed incorrectly but Scorpius said nothing, it was better than him knowing the truth about Varanian, "But you don't have to. We still don't want you to go but we'd rather you go to Hogwarts where we know you are there and can stay in touch instead of a random other place because you ran away. You don't need to stay away and really, won't Michael be tired from the full moon anyway?"
"I want to stay with him."
"Don't you want to stay with us? We can... We could do something together, just you and me. Whatever you want, your treat," his father offered awkwardly, "Some father-son time."
"Father, come on," Scorpius scoffed incredulously, "I'm not a child, I'm too old for stupid stuff like that. Spend it with Sol, he's the baby and he's the one who needs you."
"Scorpius-" his father began, looking strangely hurt but they'd reached the right door.
"We're here," Scorpius interrupted and knocked on the door, his father opened his mouth again but closed it as Annie opened the door, "Hey... Annie."
"Hey Scorpius and... Mr Malfoy," Annie greeted him back, eying the senior Malfoy as if trying to see whether he was Varanian or really his father, going with the latter, "Good to see you again, Jack's not here right now though. Congratulations on the kid."
"Yes, thank you," his father said politely with the semblance of a smile, "So I guess this is goodbye. Scorpius, we'll see you on the platform to see you off. Assuming, you or Jack is still alright with dropping both boys off?"
"Sure. Why not? Have a good new year, Mr Malfoy."
"You too. Goodbye son," his father told him and looked for a minute as if he would hug him but again decided one person was too public, instead smiling weakly and patting him on the shoulder before heading off while Scorpius stepped inside.
"So... Should I just add lying to rich looking wizard dudes to my impressively long resume or what?" Annie commented as she slowly closed the door after the elder Malfoy was out of sight.
"Long resume? I thought you were a paramedic?" Scorpius wondered distractedly.
"I was. Am. Sort of waiting for a verdict on my job," Annie shrugged, "But I had like a zillion jobs before that, I get bored easily and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. So are you going to tele-portkey away to 'Aaron' or stick around for more than two seconds to say hi to your supposed friend? Do I get any kind of explanation this time?"
"I-"
Michael was shattered as always after a full moon, he knew Annie wanted him to rest but he really wanted to cling to his final two days before it was back to Hogwarts. Plus Scorpius was apparently coming, he could at least stay awake for that. Or at least drift in and out of consciousness in front of the television set, he and Annie were half-watching some old Pokémon movies he used to love. Jack was out. There was a knock on the door and Annie went to get it, Michael rubbed his eyes and sat up a bit straighter because it was probably Scorpius. And he blinked in surprise as he caught a glimpse of Jack in a crack in the door that led to his father's bedroom.
"Jack?" Michael called out as he scowled and Jack poked his head through the door, "I thought you were out?"
"No, I came back," Jack assured him with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair nervously, "You just didn't notice because you were asleep."
"Oh, okay," Michael muttered, not convinced but too tired to waste strength arguing.
Jack returned to looking about his room out of sight from the partially-closed door, what was going on with him? There was a crack and Michael looked back to see he was no longer alone, three figures now stood around him with strange silver masks on. His initial thought was the Shadows but they didn't have the snake symbol, their robes were also drastically different instead of the more uniformed. They answered who they were before Michael could worry further.
"Die werewolf scum," one of them spat while the second was already moving his wand.
"Protego!" Michael cried and whipped out his wand faster than he'd thought he was capable.
Just in time, a silver shield shot up to protect him from an unhealthy looking jet of blue light. It rebounded and obliterated the TV, Michael felt a wave of blackness try to drown him from the exertion of using magic in such a weakened state. The speaker was already mid-spell and Michael instead threw himself out of the way instead, landing painfully on the ground while the green spell hit the part of the couch he'd been sitting on. His heart was pounding in his chest, black specs hailed down on his eyes. The guys seemed distracted by an explosive sound coming from somewhere, Scorpius maybe? Annie accidentally blowing something up? They needed help.
"Expecto Patronum," Michael whispered as he focused his strength on good thoughts.
The wave of darkness threatened to drown him again but he did manage to conjure an unusually threadbare lone lion Patronus to get the Aurors, just as Jack came out to investigate. Michael's attempt to call for help was distracted by his father in the light of the lion, he gasped in surprise as he saw shadowy hollow holes replacing Jack's eyes that actually seemed to glow with darkness. Just like a Specter. Shadows danced beneath his skin and he backed away from the Patronus, turning away and covering his eyes as he retreated back into his room. The Patronus vanished as his strength failed him, darkness dragging his drained body into unconsciousness against his will.
Scorpius was cut off by Michael's cry of 'protego' and something exploding, he rushed into the room with Annie without hesitation. Just in time to see Michael throwing himself off the couch to avoid a flash of green coming from one of three figures, they were standing around his friend with silver masks and the ruins of something electrical. Shadows maybe? They weren't wearing skeletal snake symbols. It didn't matter. One was already mid-spell to attack Michael again and he his wand out, a spell on his lips but-
"NO!" Annie shrieked and a table by the caster exploded, the force of the blast tossing the man aside like a ragdoll with stray pieces of wood forced to pierce him from the blast, "C-Cool spell."
"That wasn't me," Scorpius hissed, no longer doubting she was a witch as he put his skills to the test, "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"
He fired each jet at each of the attackers, the two unhurt had disapparated before he'd finished speaking but the one Annie had injured went limp as the magic touched him. Scorpius' mind wracked into thinking of a plan, two - and maybe reinforcements even - against one teenage wizard, one weakened teenage wizard and a witch who didn't know she was a witch were not the best odds. He had to get out or get help, he couldn't do a talking Patronus, had no time for owl, no Floo fireplace, no way to apparate but he did have the Portkey ring. He could get himself to safety but he wasn't leaving Michael, nor could he exactly leave Annie there to die... He'd have to take her with them. Two bang sounds announced the return of the attackers, even before he saw them.
"Look, we don't want to hurt you. We're just here to kill the monster," one of the figures protested from behind them.
"Like hell!" Annie yelled.
"Acuta!" Scorpius cried as he spun, slashing wildly through the air for coverage.
A yelp of pain indicated he'd hit his target as one of them was cut across the chest while the second cleverly ducked. Annie threw something at the ducking man that he realized was a knife as it pierced the guy's shoulder, he screamed in pain but the Acuta-slashed one was already readying a comeback. Scorpius grabbed Annie's wrist and pulled them out of the way behind the couch as a spell collided with the already ruined, fizzing electrical thing that he thought had probably been a TV. They had a clear path to Michael though, he was lying unmoving.
"Can you tele-portkey out of here?" Annie asked, managing to sound shaken and strong at the same time. He nodded.
"Accio shirt!" Scorpius jabbed his wand at Michael, the spell dragging his friend's body over to him as the shirt was at the wrong ankle to free itself, "Don't let go of me, Annie."
He felt Annie grab his wrist as he lunged at Michael as soon as he was close enough. Out of the corner of his he was aware of the werewolf haters casting spells. He activated the Portkey, not sure if he was in time as jets of light shot in their direction. They were already hurtling through space and a moment later, the three of them thudded down in the snow outside Varanian's hideout.
One had completely ruined the holidays for Jack, he couldn't be around Annie without One wanting to murder her for her magic. They killed Robin and fed of the feeling of his soul being destroyed so One didn't actively speak to Annie or Michael but he did continuously speak to Jack, encouraging him to kill his only sister. He was absolutely terrified to be around her just in case One tried something, he didn't want anything to happen to her. By extension, he also couldn't be around Michael. He knew Michael was looking forward to seeing her, they had been close and he could hardly take that away from him. He did his best to try spending time with him when he had to be around, he did want to see his son but he also didn't want anyone to have their soul torn apart. He spent most of his time just travelling, practicing their method of teleportation as it did require the both of them to focus. It was actually kind of interesting to see random parts of the UK he'd never been to before, or even different countries like Greece or Egypt.
They were practicing how fast they could return to his room from different locations on the last day of the year when Michael spotted him, Jack tried to brush it off as Michael just having not noticed because he was sleeping and tired but he wasn't sure if his son bought it or not. He retreated in fear until he heard commotion, Jack scowled in confusion and One had started moving their legs towards the door before he could think twice. They stepped out in time to see a silver light lion, Jack recoiled as it physically made his eyes burn to look at it and his skin was suddenly besieged by an uncomfortable tingling sensation that pricked beneath his flesh wherever the light touched. He hid back in his room and the sensations stopped.
"What was that?" Jack asked One in shock.
"A Patronus," One announced and their body shivered, "The bane of us all."
"What's happening out there?"
"Some kind of attack on your son by the looks of it, probably those werewolf-hating PAW. It's not the Soul Eaters."
"Michael," Jack breathed in panic and rushed back out to help, his son and his sister were out there. Or not, he came back out just in time to see them vanishing as spells were fired at Michael, he wasn't sure whether they hit or not, "NO! NOT MY SON!"
Jack threw out both of his palms, fury flooding his mind and banishing reason as he focused on desiring them to suffer for daring trying to hurt his son. The men had no time to react as the shadowy beams of light shot out to strike them, they dropped like defenseless stones as they screamed in agony as their bodies twisted themselves up against it. He felt the invigorating energy flooding him, the incredibly euphoric sensation of drowning in his own power and he loved it. It was so wrong but he loved the rush of power.
"Tear the magic from their souls," One commanded, "Let's focus, focus on the light of their magic in you can see in the heart of their souls. Grasp it with each hand and tear it from them."
Jack clenched his fists as he physically imagined grasping the orbs of light where their hearts were and pulled, he could almost hear a ripping sound as the orbs of light were pulled from the writhing men and a final burst of power that made him laugh with glee. Their gray auras vanished in an instant and they went limp, breathing weakly with tears rolling down their cheeks. The orbs of magic hovered above them in the beams of shadowy light, he went to pull his hands back and the orbs of light shot towards him. He felt them collide with him and was knocked back, his body arched and his eyes rolled into his skull at the strange sensation of being shocked struck him. Then he fell back, gasping for breath. He felt his lips curl into One's smile, he knew it was a success... What had he just done?