Disclaimer: Nope, the publisher never responded to my pleas to issue a retraction of the last third of OotP.

Updated: April 27 2007
Edited: January 02 2008

Chapter 11: True Colours

When it had been concluded that the shift in magical energy caused by two people Apparating into any given location would be negligible enough to avoid detection, no one had given any thought to a certain tattoo on Severus Snape's arm. Whether those likely to know had simply overlooked this fact or wilfully detracted from it, observers would forever be unsure; but as hindsight would illustrate, one thing was resoundingly clear: Voldemort had known the moment Severus Snape had arrived at Prince Manor.

Generally speaking, the creator of the most feared symbol in the wizarding world could not readily exploit the Mark to shadow those that wore it. After all, the nature of the Dark Mark was to call people to him – not the other way around. If he focused particularly hard on a specific person, the Dark Lord may be able to discern their location within a vague proximity, but with the likelihood of his followers resorting to topical potions, warding and assorted charms to befuddle the link when they did not wish to be found, he did not rely on such methods. When, however, Severus Snape arrived within the geographical vicinity of his ancestral home, Voldemort had received the signal he had been watching for.

"Greyback, Avery, McNair, Nott…" Voldemort called each name aloud as he touched his wand to the Dark Mark on Pettigrew's arm, summoning each of his strongest to meet him at the matrimonial home of Regulus & Eleanor Black. Shoving the podgy arm in his grip away once he was done, he hissed at his most redundant of servants. "You… Wormtail… shall ssstay."

"Y-y-yes Master," Peter Pettigrew, former Marauder come betrayer quivered under the scrutiny of the powerful Dark wizard. On one distinctly Gryffindorish level, the mocked traitor yearned to join his Dark brethren in the field and prove his worth, but since to do that might mean confronting those that he had betrayed, he could never bring himself to leave the security of his Master's compound. Knowing this, Voldemort and his men treated the rat Animagus with condescension and contempt; to his fellow Death Eaters Wormtail was regarded as nothing more than a common House Elf, and to Voldemort, his arm was most convenient for the painful process of calling meetings.

Alighting from his chair and billowing out the creases in his robes with an intuitive display of wandless magic, Voldemort did not give his lowest minion another thought as he strode past the unkempt wizard, Disapparating mid-step.


"But Snape, we have to walk the outside of the perimeter if the Fidelius is going to take hold!" Arcturus argued with the taller man in frustration, having levelled a glare at the wizard who had just physically halted his progress. They'd Apparated to a point outside the main house moments earlier, and had been making their way towards the hedging that outlined the property when the older man had thrust out his arm and stopped them both in their tracks.

"Shut up, you foolish boy!" hissed Severus as the tell-tale burn that warmed through his arm at the arrival of the Dark Lord warned him a moment too late: they had been spotted.

"Well done, Severus, well done!" said Voldemort from the boundary line, which he could not cross without invitation. "I must say that you have truly outdone yourself this time; you shall surely be rewarded for exceeding my expectations and delivering the boy in such a timely fashion! Though I might have suspected that threatening to destroy your mother's childhood home would motivate you."

Face to face with his parents' killer for the first time in his life, Arcturus bristled with barely controlled anger. He would have been equally enraged at the man beside him if not for the slight shudder that his eyes detected rippling through his cousin at the sight of Lord Voldemort.
'He didn't know…' Arcturus thought abstractly, regarding his cousin's side profile with a barely noticeable tilt of his head. Immediately realising the ramifications of such a situation – that Severus would be in trouble with either side no matter which way he played it – Arcturus decided to take matters into his own hands. Knowing that he and Snape were protected from the ring of Death Eaters so long as they remained within the property's wards, he turned his back on the Dark wizards and confronted his cousin; intending to make it physically impossible for the man to move forward.

Addressing the man by every derogatory term he could think of, Arcturus could almost forget that he even had an audience as he let his cousin have it. If the observing Death Eaters found the display convincing, it would be because he meant most all of it. Quickly tiring of the spectacle, the Dark Lord took a step forward, fruitlessly testing his boundaries, and issued his order.
"When you are quite done listening to the boy belittle you, Severus, bring him to me," said the evil wizard, his tone of voice suggesting that Severus had a choice in the matter, though his expression clearly stated otherwise.

Hearing the words of his 'Master', Severus flinched, and he tore his attention away from the teenager's tirades. Inwardly, his mind raced for a solution, the analytical wizard critically weighing out their options. A lot of the boy's accusations held merit – Severus' actions were indeed metered by a singular need for self-preservation – and he now had to choose which side would serve him best at that moment. To defy the Dark Lord in his very company would not ensure survival, and yet to comply and hand the boy over would be like signing his own arrest warrant. It was an impossible choice to make, and as he watched the band of Death Eaters around Voldemort test the limitations of the manor's wards like a pack of predatory lizards, he found that he was presented with an alternative. Was there a way that he could possibly stall leaving the sanctity of the property's boundary line long enough to allow help to arrive, but not so long that it drew the Dark Lord's suspicion?

Though Severus' conclusion took barely a flicker of time to be drawn, it was a fraction too late – Arcturus had already decided for them both.
"Expelliarmus!" the boy yelled, drawing his wand on his cousin and smirking in satisfaction when his opponent reacted to the movement and defended himself without hesitation. Little would either of them realise at the time, but they had both reached the same conclusion – to stall and stay on the safe side of the wards – only Arcturus been a lot more forward in his approach.

"Draw him towards the boundary!" Voldemort ordered, his eyes shining in glee as he watched the pair duel. He had heard many stories from his followers about the boy, about how he fought at the helm of the Dark Lady's personal army, but to see the child in action with his own eyes defied all of his expectations. Arrogantly, he realised now that he had placed too much stock in the boy's Token, having assumed that the child was merely an inactive figurehead who could not be touched on account of the creatures protecting him. But watching him now, it was quickly apparent that the boy could hold his own, and the opportunistic wizard was already thinking of ways in which he could capitalise on the young man's potential.
"Do not harm him," he added to Severus. Under the right influences, Arcturus Black could become a powerful tool indeed.

Severus was almost too caught up in trying to defend himself against a most unlikely attack that he'd almost missed the Dark Lord's secondary command. He didn't let it show, but the man's order had surprised him, the way the Dark wizard had spoken of his search for the boy during the last Death Eater meeting had suggested nothing less than a grisly fate for the teenager. Deflecting another cutting curse, Severus tried to mount a counter attack that would keep them a safe distance away from the property's boundaries. At first, he had parried the boy's attempt to disarm him with a half-hearted defence, believing that the child did not intend to harm, but it quickly became apparent that either Arcturus Black was not holding back, or he had ability none could have predicted; Severus was breaking a sweat just to keep his ground, something he could never remember doing.

In a truer sense, it was Prince versus Prince, the line's defining prowess for battle revealing itself in spectacular fashion.

Surprised to find himself faced with a competent sparring partner in his aloof second cousin, Arcturus ignored the blood dripping down his arm as a Cutting Curse glanced his bicep and upped the ante. He tried to subtly convey to the man his plans, but was quick to note that the loathsome Potions Master was too proud to take the fall.
'You damn fool! I do not wish to kill you!' he inwardly screamed at the man, locking eyes with him in a fierce battle of wills. 'Just take the damn fall!'

It was true. Arcturus didn't quite understand why, but he did not want to see this man's role in the war compromised. Igor had only ever told him vague things about the slippery Death Eater, and even before the man had been implicated in his mother's death, Arcturus had hated him for the simple fact of the symbol he wore on his arm. But now things had changed… had Severus Snape willingly and knowingly produced the potion that killed his mother instead of assisting her for reasons of furthering his claim to the ancestral Prince legacy, and not simply acted on an order he had no choice but to obey, then it stood to reason that the man would have attempted to overpower him upon their arrival, instead of trying to warn him of Voldemort's presence.

Making his choice, then, Arcturus drew on the art Esmerelda had taught him; it was not something he visited often on account of the debilitating toll the magic took on his mortal body. Waving his wand in a slashing fashion, he drew an 'X' in the air and uttered a single word. The Curse that was then unleashed upon his victim did not originate from the tip of his wand, nor could it be avoided. Radiating from his magical core, the brilliant blue light pulsated from every pore in his body, rushing out to envelope Snape before the other man could even blink. At first, it appeared as though all the spell did was cast its target in an ethereal glow, rendering them unable to attack, but a simple flick of Arcturus' hand proved otherwise; sending Severus flying into the air and slamming into the foundation stone of the house, over 50 feet away.

Hoping that the impact did not do any permanent damage, Arcturus closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself before facing his real enemy. He'd just played his trump card to save Snape's own, and he was spent. His hands shaking from the earlier exertion, Arcturus knew that it would be suicide to carry on in his current state; he could only hope and pray that the wards held.
"You will not destroy this home!" he yelled commandingly.

"You will give me what I want," Voldemort countered. "Or I will do what I want."

"That which my father died for is worth more than mere bricks and mortar," said Arcturus scathingly, approaching the edge of the wards but careful not to breach the protective barrier.

Voldemort smiled chillingly.
"Your father died because of his own stupidity, however I will agree that the item he stole from me is far more valuable than any building," said the Dark wizard. "But you are in no position to bargain with that which does not belong to you. Your parents have already died for your father's treachery. Return what is mine and I may let you live."

"And what of the lives I have taken from you?" sneered Arcturus, not giving an inch.

"Sorting the weak from the strong," said Voldemort dismissively. "They would have let me down in the long run. I'd almost consider it a favour."

"Oh, so you won't mind if I take some more, then?" said Arcturus cockily, realising that whilst the wards prevented the Death Eaters entrance, they did not stop his own spells hitting their targets.

Two Death Eaters fell before any could react. Stopping the moment Voldemort dealt a damaging blow to the property's wards, Arcturus took a step back in caution. It then occurred to him that if his own magic could penetrate the barrier, then it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord managed to get through the estate's defences. In all the commotion, though, he'd failed to notice the presence – and then absence – of one particular enemy; the consequences of such not apparent until it was too late.
"Greyback!" Arcturus snarled at the uncouth man beast, the man Apparating beside the Dark Lord with a small child in his arms, swaddled in a thin blanket. The girl was no more than 7 or 8, and, awoken by the sudden relocation, began to scream hysterically.

Darting forward in alarm, Arcturus skidded to a halt right on the edge of the wards.
"Leave the Muggle out of this!" he bellowed. He knew the girl was a Muggle for the simple fact that the child seemed to have been snatched right from her bed, and no self-respecting wizarding family would leave their child's bedroom unprotected against uninvited guests. He brandished his wand at the feral man. "You wish to challenge me, then step forth and I'll take you down one by one…"

"Not the tune you were singing when you and Bane's little posse of night-crawlers outnumbered my men 4 to 1," sneered Greyback, tightening his hold on the struggling girl in unspoken threat. He leant down and sniffed the terrified child, like a wolf might its prey. "Ah… fear. There's nothing more intoxicating. Tell me, boy, how brave are you without your wards and your Tokens, hmmm? Care to let me sniff you?"

"You're an animal, Greyback," said Arcturus in disgust. "Let the girl go and I'll consider allowing you through the wards. Then we'll see who carries the scent of fear."

"Well done, Fenrir," said Voldemort, pleased. "Who'd have thought the unloved little Black would have compassion…"

Arcturus froze, inwardly cursing himself for being so transparent. His weaknesses were few, but readily exploited once exposed, and that such vulnerability could reveal itself at such a critical moment chilled him to the core. For if there were one thing that Arcturus Black could not overlook, it was the terrorising of the defenceless – children in particular. Such a belief, he reasoned, was what set him apart from the enemy; no matter how many Death Eaters he ruthlessly took down, or how many Dark creatures he consorted with, he'd steer clear of Darkness so long as he remembered to protect the weak.

But sometimes, even the strong could not be saved.

It was an impossible situation… either give the Dark Lord what he wanted, and lose everything anyway, or make a necessary sacrifice and live to fight another day. As loath as Arcturus was to admit it, there was no way the Dark Lord would permit him to walk away with the child, unscathed; the girl was dead as soon as Greyback had made the random decision to steal her from her bed. No, the only choice he now had was whether or not the unfortunate girl was to have a painful death, or a quick one.

A hard set look darkening his features, Arcturus gripped his wand tightly and pointed it at the writhing bundle in Greyback's arms. With any luck, the spell would miss and hit the werewolf instead, but Arcturus' main goal was to diffuse their hold over him and deny them what they wanted… at any cost.
"You'll have to try better than that," he spat, as the green beam of light impacting with the girl caused Fenrir Greyback to stagger back and drop the body in surprise.

"Ah, a merciful death," mocked Voldemort, looking from the lifeless form on the ground to the determined teenager beyond his reach. "But rather apt. What I am asking of you is, after all, far more important than a filthy Muggle girl…"

"What's to say I haven't already destroyed it?" said Arcturus leadingly.

"I'd have felt it," said Voldemort silkily, though Arcturus knew the man was bluffing. "Besides, you would not have wanted to destroy your only bargaining tool."

"Or maybe I'm still looking for an effective way to dispose of it," suggested Arcturus. He glared at the Dark Lord coldly. "You have nothing I would want to bargain for."

"How about your life… your home?" said Voldemort smoothly.

"You kill me and you'll never find it," threatened Arcturus truthfully. Then, turning towards the house he'd never technically called home, he aimed his wand at the front door and muttered a spell under his breath.

To anyone who was not aware of the complex Disillusionment Charm Arcturus had constructed during his previous visit, the house appeared to implode before their very eyes; the wand movement and incantation that left the boy's lips synonymous with a powerful destruction spell. What they didn't see, however, was Arcturus' blood spilling into the earth, and how it had identified him as the Master of the household. He had been in the process of trying to identify and replicate some of the complex Notice-Me-Not Charms on the Black family's Grimmauld Place stronghold when he'd come across an easily overlooked variant that was, essentially, a cheap parlour trick. His destructive spell, therefore, had in fact become a password; one that, when cast in conjunction with his blood being spilt, would activate the Disillusionment Charm that gave the appearance of a house reduced to rubble.

Arcturus didn't think it would fool the Dark Lord for long, though that he had just killed a Muggle in order to remain uncompromised could only lend currency to his apparent willingness to destroy part of his family's legacy. In the least, Arcturus was simply hoping to have the enemy leave long enough so that he could complete the Fidelius, thus preventing the house from becoming a target – a weakness – again.

"You are one determined boy," sneered Voldemort in frustration as he bought into the illusion before him. "But you cannot possibly be willing to sacrifice all that you hold dear, and believe me I will stop at nothing to recover what is mine."

"I would never condone you killing people in the name of extortion," said Arcturus philosophically. "But we are war, and with battle comes collateral damage. I'll not hold myself responsible for what is ultimately your decision. I doubt, after all, that you feel any shred of accountability for the Death Eater's whose lives have been taken from them because they bear the Mark you gave them."

Voldemort could not cover his surprise.
"I would not have thought such thinking possible by one who served the interests of the Light," he said imploringly. "May I suggest an alternative to this pointless enmity?" – he paused for effect – "Join me."

Choosing not to point out that he only ever set out to serve the interests of himself, Arcturus glared at the Dark wizard who'd dared to suggest that he overlook the crimes that had been committed upon his family by joining the wizard responsible for his parent's deaths.
"You're the reason my parents are dead," he pointed out. "I will never join you."

Voldemort smiled victoriously, causing Arcturus to immediately feel uneasy.
"Not even if I told you that I could bring them back?" he said saccharinely.

Arcturus faltered in his response, and immediately hated himself for it. He cursed himself for allowing the Dark Lord to pick up on another of his weaknesses, and reminded himself that his parents would never possibly care or respect him if he'd paid such a price to get either of them back.
"I would take my own life before I'd bring my parents back and have them see me at your side," he said coldly, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin in defiance.

"If that's the case, then perhaps I ought to bring them back regardless," threatened Voldemort, his red eyes flashing with dangerous impatience. "And we shall see just how much you value your family."

Unable to help himself, Arcturus went rigid. Inwardly, his mind was going a million miles an hour, trying to definitively discern whether or not the man was telling the truth. Surely if there truly were a way to bring a person back to life, then Voldemort would not be the only wizard knowledgeable or powerful enough to do it. A spell would have to be documented somewhere, in which case Arcturus would likely have located it; his one childhood dream being, after all, finding a way to have them back. Taking a deep breath, he decided to call the old man's bluff.
"Very well then," he said flippantly. "Bring both my parents back and I might consider it a fair trade."

Taking the seriousness in the boy's tone at face value, Voldemort's face lit up in challenge, his mind undoubtedly concocting ways in which he could temporarily fool the boy into thinking he had his parents back. Before he could even consider the fact that the parentless teenager was not as blinded by his desire as an orphan – in his experience – ought to be, he nodded in acknowledgement and gestured for his Death Eaters to depart.
"Very well then, Arcturus Black," said Voldemort congenially once they were alone. "May we have terms."

"May we have terms," said Arcturus sardonically, repeating the words that, in traditional circles, were symbolic of a verbal agreement being considered.

Once the Dark Lord had Disapparated back to whatever rock he had crawled out from under, Arcturus took the chance to cross the wards and deal with the dead they'd left behind. After checking that the two Death Eater's he'd felled were in fact dead, he banished their bodies to their respective ancestral homes, saving the child til last. Normally, when he had been in battle with Esmerelda's crew, he would just leave the bodies as they lay and let the Ministry pull their weight in picking up after him, but on this occasion he really wanted to avoid his own ancestral home becoming overrun by the M.L.E Department. Strictly speaking, one could not legally place an Undetectable Charm over a piece of property without registering the location with an Unspeakable and obtaining a Ministry permit. All too aware of the spies Voldemort had in place throughout all levels of government, Arcturus was not about to draw any attention to his plans, and giving the Ministry cause to investigate the land immediately surrounding the Prince estate would surely prove to be a hindrance.

Wiping a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, Arcturus took a deep breath and crouched down besides the unmoving form. Closing his eyes, the haunted teen cleared his mind of the horrors the sight before him reminded him of. It had been eight years since he'd last seen the corpse of a child, and though this girl appeared only to be sleeping, the mere instance of her passing and likeness of her age could not help but draw the deeply buried image of her mangled body to mind. That it had been Greyback who had invariably led this little girl to her death only served to twist the knife in a little deeper…

"The lesser of two evils," he whispered to himself as he gazed over the untouched, but dead, girl; the image of Greyback's earlier victim serving to convince himself that he had acted correctly in killing her.

Having never studied a dead body at length before, the curious boy reached down to brush a strand of hair from the child's face.
"Still warm," he acknowledged hoarsely, whipping his hand back as though burned.

Imagining the distress of the poor girl's parents when they awoke in the morning to find their daughter's bed empty and a cold corpse on their doorstep, Arcturus suddenly felt he was violating something sacred in handling the child while she was still warm. No matter the just cause, he had taken that sustaining warmth from the child… stolen her last breath… forced her healthy heart to drum its last beat.

"Did you keep this from me too, Esme?" he whispered through the sheen of tears that seemed to spring from nowhere as his stomach twisted with what could only be the unfamiliar sensation of remorse.

"No," said a soft voice from behind him, causing Arcturus to whip around and stand up, the sudden defensive move almost causing him to lose his balance and topple over the body he'd been crouching beside.

"Esme," he croaked in acknowledgement, taking a slight step back.

The vampire witch sensed the movement and flinched accordingly, her un-beating heart still capable of wrenching at the sight. She assumed her most demure look and held her arms out on either side of her torso, careful not to make any sudden movements as she wordlessly conveyed her intentions.
"No," she repeated, gesturing her head slightly towards the dead child. "I never took that away from you."

"Then why does it hurt so much?" Arcturus whispered brokenly, weighed down by the gravity of what he had just done; scores of scenarios mocking him as they played out ways he could have possibly saved the child.

"Because in stealing you away from me, your uncle has made you feel like you have no one to turn to," said Esmerelda knowingly. "I'm sure he meant well and is clamouring to claim my place, but you fear that he'll not understand you… what you just did. Because it was Fenrir, and his bringing a girl of that age and likeness reopened a wound you never let heal. Shall I go on?"

Arcturus closed his eyes in defeat. It seemed that even without a residence in his head, Esmerelda Bane would still know him inside and out. Shaking his head wearily, he sighed.
"I did what had to be done," he said softly, knowing that if he said it aloud it would become all that more believable.

"And this wasn't your fault any more than how what happened to that girl eight years ago. Neither could be prevented, Archie!" added Esmerelda, pushing him to deny responsibility for the attack that he had long suspected to have been orchestrated for the sole purpose of drawing him out of Grimmauld Place almost a decade earlier. Why else would a Muggle girl from suburban London have been targeted if not for the simple fact that her path to school took her past Arcturus' home every morning?

"How did they know?" he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head quickly. In the time before Dumbledore became Secret Keeper for the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, number 12 Grimmauld Place was markedly more accessible. Of course, his grandfather's complex array of Charms ensured that no one would really notice the property, or force their way into it, but people knew where it was, and who lived there. It had been such a 'Black' thing to do: let everyone know where you lived, but give them no way in – the ultimate taunt. Of those that knew of Arcturus' existence, all were aware that he was kept under lock and key in the house of his forefathers; but ever since the neighbourhood girl's attack, he'd been at a loss to explain how they could have possibly known how taken he was by the girl. Day after day he had sat on the windowsill, watching the girl walk by with her mother and wondering what it was like to grow up in a family that allowed you to go outside every day. By the very nature of the charms on his home, the girl had never seen him watching her, so by default no one ought to have known he was paying attention.

"Coincidences do happen, Archie," said Esmerelda quickly, stepping into the familiar role. "Or perhaps they did it on the off-chance that you would make the correlation…"

Arcturus frowned, his independent mind drawing conclusions he'd never before considered. The night the girl and her family had been attacked by Greyback's pack, Esmerelda had called him to her, his Token acting something like an automatic Portkey in those days. She had been one of the few people in his life to whom he had confided his fascination with the little Muggle schoolgirl, and so when the vampire witch had learnt of Greyback's plans – through a 'mutual acquaintance', she had said at the time – it seemed only natural that Arcturus had been fetched to help protect the defenceless family. They had, however, arrived too late to save the Muggles, and Arcturus had never been given cause to suspect Esmerelda's involvement in the attack… until now.

"It was you," he said quietly, equal tones of betrayal and self-loathing echoing in his tone. Without the woman in his head, everything was just so clear, and while he knew he could not have helped his earlier perspectives, he still hated himself for believing it all.

Taking note of the expression on the woman's face, he growled at the confirmation he found there.
"It was you!" he repeated, a little louder. "You were the only one who knew I watched her every day! The only one with connections to filth like Greyback! You set it all up! Why? They were innocents!"

"I needed to accelerate your progress," said Esmerelda smoothly, without a shred of remorse. "Your grandmother had done well in instilling you with the idea of avenging your parents, but without actually knowing them you lacked the passion to truly go the distance. You needed to see firsthand what the enemy was capable of, Arcturus. I was simply giving you the means to fight back."

"I saw the aftermath of my mother's death and the lead up to my father's own every night in my grandfather's Pensieve!" said Arcturus through gritted teeth. "Don't tell me about needing to see things firsthand!"

"Yes, but whether you chose to admit it or not, dear boy, a part of you could not help but sympathise with the Dark Lord," said Esmerelda knowingly, and Arcturus flinched when he found he could not deny it; the woman having resided in his head, after all. She went on. "You understood that your father had stolen from his master and betrayed the Oath he'd sworn. Voldemort then commissioning the death of your parents was a righteous punishment, and in acknowledging that the best you could have hoped to have done in retribution was punish the man for depriving you of your parents. It would not have been enough, I'm telling you! You needed to see that the Dark Lord, and those of his kind, were capable of killing senselessly; that there were weak who needed avenging!"

"So it was all my fault, then!" said Arcturus bitterly, referring to the fact that the girl's family would not have been targeted if he'd never taken to watching the girl walk by.

"No, it was Fenrir's fault," said Esmerelda soothingly. "The girl was supposed to be spared, but he just couldn't help himself!"

At Arcturus' confused look, Esmerelda's face fell.
"I could never have inflicted that pain on you directly," she said firmly. "I had hoped to steal the girl away to the coven once she had been orphaned in front of you both; give you a friend whom you could identify with, and be vengeful for."
She sighed.
"It was all in your head, Archie!" she said, remiss. "Having seen her lose her parents to the same evil that took yours away would have given you the edge you needed to go the distance. You would have taken it upon yourself to be vengeful enough for two people because as a Muggle she wouldn't have stood a chance…"

Acknowledging the witch's intentions, and altogether sickened by the whole orchestrated event that had seen him take down two of Greyback's pack, at age eight, he closed his eyes slowly and bowed his head. The righteous side of him wanted to hold the woman before him accountable, but the dispassionate, analytical side that he was far more reliant upon could not help but acknowledge how said incident had shaped him into a stronger man. He hated himself for seeing reason in such atrocity, but he could not deny that he hadn't used the attack to fuel his resolve when faced with Death Eaters or the moral dilemma of whether or not to exploit the Token he'd once wore to exert control over a Dark creature. Without such reinforcement, he'd probably not done half the things he'd done, which would have meant that the evil he'd removed from the world would never have stopped hurting others.

"Collateral damage," he muttered to himself, reminded of the stance he'd taken with the Dark Lord moments earlier and not missing the irony in that it had been Esmerelda who had taught him of the principle.
Looking the vampire witch in the eye, he sighed.
"I cannot forgive you any more than I can forgive myself," he conceded heavily. "But I won't deny that it did serve its purpose."

Esmerelda tutted at him endearingly.
"You concern yourself with mortal sentimentality," she clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Torture yourself for no reason. The past is in the past. It cannot be undone."

"Says she who scoured the earth for centuries, avenging the husband and son you knew for but a blink of that time," Arcturus pointed out coolly.

A pained look came over the oldest witch in existence, but she could not bring herself to lash out at the truth in the boy's words. Taking a step towards the reticent teen, she leant in close as though she was going to impart some great, secret knowledge.
"That's right," she said softly; "so take it from one who took a millennia to learn the lesson: it is not worth it!"

"Oh, so I should just forgo this little vendetta and go about living my merry little life?" said Arcturus, a brow raised in scepticism. When the witch stalled to answer, he scowled. "Face it, Esme, it can't be both ways."

Taking a chance by resting a hand on each of the boy's shoulder, she looked Arcturus in the eye.
"What you are doing, Arcturus, is more than just revenge," she said steadily. "You are working towards removing the evil in the world, and defending the weak."

Arcturus quirked his lips.

"You know, some might take that to be a little strange, coming from the woman known in history as one of the Darkest creatures to have graced this earth…" he said leadingly.

"What have I told you before, Archie," said Esmerelda firmly, tightening her grip on his shoulders. "No children. No innocents. What I did in the past may have been tantamount to evil, but my intentions were the same as your own."

"Ridding the earth of those that stole families away from people," recited Arcturus levelly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Paying a thought, then, to just how much the woman before him had shaped his life, he backed away slightly and folded his arms across his chest in consideration.

"What's going to happen now?" he asked, looking at the witch expectantly.

"What do you want to happen?" replied Esmerelda quietly, sounding defeated.

"I don't know," said Arcturus honestly, overcome by an unfamiliar awkwardness. He ruffled up the hair at the back of his neck and bowed his head slightly. "I don't want things to go back to how they were – I am mad at you, you know – it's just that… but…"

"-no one knows you like I do?" finished Esmerelda helpfully, her eyes glinting. At the boy's nod, she smiled. "Do you trust me, Archie?"

Arcturus faltered in his response. The side of him that was still angry at the woman wanted to say 'no', but knowing the vampire witch as well as he thought he did, he had the give the woman credit where it was due. Whilst not entirely forthcoming with him, she had never actually lied to him either, not directly. Sighing through his hesitation, he looked into Esmerelda's eyes and nodded firmly.
"Yes," he said in realisation. After the Token had been removed and Arcturus was spending the duration of their separation dwelling on his anger, he'd questioned her intentions; but whether it was his foolish 'mortal sentimentality' or otherwise, when faced with her in the flesh he couldn't shake the feeling that he was safe in her company.

"Let me taste you," she whispered. When Arcturus' eyes went wide with surprise, she rushed to explain. "I can sense your reluctance to accept another Token, but you need to be protected…"

"I don't want to be bound to you," said Arcturus warily, not caring if he hurt the woman's feelings; after all he was still angry at her for exerting such a subtle influence over him.

"You won't be if you give your blood freely, and I don't taste it from your flesh," promised Esmerelda, conjuring a bejewelled goblet with a twist of her wrist. Taking his acceptance of the vessel as consent, she dictated the terms. "The wound can be caused magically, but it must heal on its own. Show the scar to any Dark creature that seeks to harm and they will be unable to touch you."

Despite the years of curiosity, when it came time to give his blood to the vampire Arcturus could not help but feel a little squeamish. Using his wand, he traced a line on the inside of his palm, waiting until the thin stream of blood broke its banks and began to flow freely before fisting his hand and holding it over the goblet.
"Say when, m'lady," he drawled dryly in what was a mockery of a Lord serving High Tea.

"Stop when it's half full," said Esmerelda, helplessly mesmerised by the trickle of blood that was running out from between the boy's fingers.

"Ever the optimist, eh, Esme?" smirked Arcturus, stemming the flow of blood from his hand and handing over the goblet when it had reached the requested dosage. Seeing the woman's slight shimmer of concern as he unfurled his hand and winced, he applied pressure to the wound and gestured towards the chalice in the woman's hand. "Drink. While it is still warm. I know how you loathe cold blood."

Eyes never leaving his, Esmerelda raised the goblet to her lips and drank slowly, her pupils becoming dilated and brows hooded as she savoured the thick red substance. Forcing himself to watch, Arcturus convincing itself that it wasn't his blood; the sight of Esmerelda feeding not unfamiliar, but repulsing him on this particular occasion.

"Leave," said Esmerelda suddenly, her voice sounding somewhat restrained. "Get back behind the wards!"

Arcturus stalled, blinking at the woman in shock.

"Go!" snapped Esmerelda, throwing the goblet aside and spraying remnants of Arcturus' blood over them both. "And take the body with you!"

A flick of his wand levitated the child's body and travelling through the wards behind them, but Arcturus held his ground.
"Esme…" he started, his mouth suddenly dry.

Recoiling from his outstretched hand, Esmerelda looked at him with barely suppressed hunger in her eyes.
"You must get away from me, Archie! Before I do something I regret!" insisted the tortured vampire witch, the lingering taste of Arcturus' blood on her lips far more intoxicating than she ever could have expected. "Go, Arcturus! Go, and stay away! I can't be near you anymore, not if you intend on remaining mortal!"

Sensing the growing threat, Arcturus stumbled back across the threshold of the Prince property and gaped at the woman.
"You said the scar would protect me!" he said indignantly, holding out his bleeding palm and thrusting it towards her in emphasis.

Drawn by the sight and smell of his blood, Esmerelda's feet stepped forward of their own volition, causing her to hiss as her body was shocked by the wards. Moving back shakily, she gestured hopelessly.
"It will protect you," she said hoarsely, her head bowed in shame. "Just not from me."

Emboldened by his anger, Arcturus clenched his fists and closed the distance between them, not caring that he was no longer protected by the wards. Grabbing the vampire witch by the collar of her robes, he pulled her forward so that their faces were only inches apart. Glaring at her fearlessly – ignoring as her fangs elongated of their own accord and bared at him threateningly – the determined young man held his ground.
"Did you know?" he demanded, looking the witch in the eye and finding his answer even before the woman shook her head. Reeling back, Arcturus let go of Esmerelda's robes and ran a hand over his face in consideration. For Esmerelda Bane to underestimate the effect of his blood on her palate, then he could only count his blessings that the woman had turned down a taste in the past, when she could have exploited the hold her Token had over him.

"How long?" he said in defeat, darting back behind the wards as the woman made to lunge at him, her heart and mind unable to stop her more baser instincts. Abstractly, Arcturus realised that it had probably been at least a hundred years since the vampire witch had drunk from a magical person; likely the first time by invitation – evidently an intoxicating combination.

Esmerelda turned her head skyward and sighed. Unable to come up with an answer they both would accept, she looked at the boy she had virtually raised in her image one last time.
"Goodbye, Arcturus," she said levelly, slowly fading from view in a way only she knew how; "until we meet again."

Reading the meaning of the woman's parting words, Arcturus fell to his knees and cradled his head in his hands. For all the protection she had offered to him without hesitation, it had come at a cost that was suddenly greater than what a simple Token would have otherwise incurred.
"Until we meet again," said Arcturus to thin air.

Regaining his resolve, he took a deep breath and stood, turning to face the consequences of his earlier actions.
"What the…" he said, the surprise in his eyes quickly turning to satisfaction as he recognised the body that now lay in place of the dead Muggle child.