Song Suggestion: Claire Wyndham- "My Love will Never Die"
TRIGGER WARNING: This is one of the darker chapters in the story. There will be implied rape, death, and domestic violence (both towards an adult and a child). I'm also adding a retroactive trigger warning to Chapter 52 for child abduction, based on a reader's suggestion.
A/N: Marcus Flint's age was a plot hole of JK's. He was a sixth year when they were first years, but then she put him in Prisoner of Azkaban. She pulled it off by saying Flint failed a year. I think that's stupid, so in this story he was a fifth year when they were 1st years to make it less confusing. So he's about 4 to 5 years older than Hermione.
Also, I know some of you don't like pureblood Hermione stories. I promise this one won't undercut her like some fics. She'll have an important revelation at the beginning of part 3, and I've woven in foreshadowing throughout the story that leads to it.
It Means Forever
Hermione
I'm not a muggleborn.
It was the first coherent thought she had as she was led out of the courtroom by Flint, and it made her ill. She'd built up her whole life in the magical world around this simple fact, fought battles against men and women for her right to live beside them, almost became a sacrifice in Romania for her blood. She had the word mudblood etched in her arm as a continuous reminder of who she was and where she stood.
And now it all meant nothing.
She ignored her friends in the crowd, only briefly glancing at an open-mouthed Blaise as she was rushed past them. She heard Charlie shouting at her back, but her mind was fractured, and she wandered out without acknowledging them.
"Put your head down," Flint whispered in her ear.
Bright flashes greeted them when they exited the lift into the main section of the Ministry. Reporters lunged like piranhas, flinging questions at them. Flint tugged her close, cursing, while wrapping his arm tight around her shoulders. The light blinded Hermione as they walked forward, pushing past people.
Rita Skeeter attempted to edge her way to the front of the vultures, but with one hard stare from Hermione, she faded back, still afraid of her with good reason.
Flint led them away to the floo. She could barely concentrate her mind as he grabbed the floo powder and flung it in the fireplace, tugging her with him.
Hermione
They stepped out of the massive fireplace into the grand hall of the Flint castle. Marcus walked before her, already running a hand through his hair. Now that they were alone, he looked unsure what to do.
The quiet of the castle, such a contrast to the noisy ministry, resettled her mind, allowing her to think again.
Marcus now paced before her, until he stopped and looked at her.
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
The questions she had would take all day to ask.
"My name is Clarice?"
Flint shuddered.
"Never call yourself that. It may be your legal name, but it's of foul origins."
That confused her.
"You're my brother," she said.
He grimaced again.
"Half-brother. You may not want to give me that title after tonight."
"I'm not sure I understand. My father—"
She choked. Her father was in St. Mungo's sipping tea beside her mother, recovering from an obliviate she'd given him. The thought that he wasn't her real father, her blood father, devastated her in ways she didn't know how to articulate. All the memories she stored of him now had a haze of grey surrounding them.
"Have you known the whole time?" She asked him, voice sharp. "Did you know at Hogwarts?"
He'd been so mean to her and her friends, hissing mudblood as she wandered the halls, just as bad, if not worse, than Draco.
He flinched.
"No." He shook his head. "I only discovered it before the final battle. I swear… fuck, I don't know how to explain everything. I didn't tell you when I discovered it, because you were doing fine on your own without me. When I discovered you were at Malfoy manor, I tried to think up a way to get you and your child away, but then you disappeared. But now… well, after all you just went through, you deserve to know and make your own decision."
He reached out his hand for her to take. After she knew the circumstances of her conception and birth, she understood nothing would ever be the same. She would walk into it Hermione Granger and exit as someone else.
But she had to know.
Hermione extended her hand for him to take.
Hermione
On the opposite side of the castle from the tower was a simple room with only several glass cabinets and a large stone pensive in the middle. Jars lined the shelves, with familiar, glowing silver contents.
Marcus looked to what captured her attention.
"It's a common practice for ancestors to store important memories before dying." He walked over to the pensieve and placed his wand to his temple. "There are several memories of mine you need to see. I was very young for most of them, only about four or five, so sometimes it isn't clear, but after looking at them myself, I think they are easy enough to view."
Hermione nodded. Over time, the memory can have a hazy feel to it, though wizard memoires were more complete than muggle ones, because they could be extracted from the subconscious parts of the mind.
A string of silvery blue exited the wand. By the time Flint finished filling the bowl with memories, it lit up the room like a star.
With caution, she tiptoed forward. She stood before the stone bowl and took a deep breath. Before she plunged into the silver wispy stream, Flint's heavy hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Some of the scenes might be… difficult to view. Our father was not a pleasant man."
Hermione nodded. She placed both hands on either side of the pensieve and stuck her face in.
M
She arrived in a spacious room. It looked to be in the castle somewhere, in a place she hadn't been yet. A little boy with dark hair and green eyes played with a set of action figures of famous wizards. With a touch of his hands, they would cast faux spells on the other toys as they battled. A young Marcus, probably only three or four, she surmised.
A noise interrupted his play. Little Marcus looked curious and got up, opening the door. Hermione followed him out, walking slow down the hallway. He crept to the stairs where a giant man lumbered up, holding something over his shoulder.
Hermione paused, realizing the man in front of her was her father. Flint looked a lot like him: black hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes. It should have been a handsome combination, but something about his expression set off alarms in her head, an instinct informing her a predator stood in the shadows, eyes filled with a blank emptiness. It made Hermione take a few steps back, even though she understood logically he couldn't hurt her.
As the man exited the staircase, Hermione gasped realizing Flint senior carried a woman slung over his shoulder. And as the man passed both her and little Marcus without acknowledging him, she made the even more horrific discovery the woman Maurice Flint held was her mother.
Her unconscious face bobbed against his back, as Maurice clutched her thighs to his chest. Thick, curly hair swayed as they moved. She looked so young.
"Who dat?" Marcus asked in a little voice.
Maurice twisted with a scowl, showing a row of crooked teeth.
"No one you need to be concerned about." He pushed his son hard enough Marcus stumbled away. "Get out of my way and find something else to do."
Marcus' bottom lip quivered, but the little boy stoically held back his tears as Maurice walked down the hallway and disappeared into a room, slamming the door.
M
The memory faded and then rearranged. Once again, they were in the hallway, but this time Marcus stood before a door. He looked hesitant, but with pudgy hands he reached up and twisted the doorknob, opening it to find a dingy room.
Enough light filtered in to see a small room with only a single bed, a side table with a jug of water, and a half-eaten bowl of fruit. A big bucket sat in the opposite corner, and just by a look she understood it to be a makeshift toilet.
Marcus didn't go further than the doorway at first, just staring at the body lying on the bed.
Her mother stirred, opening her eyes, as if it was hard to do. She gasped and sat up fast, pushing herself to the wall. When she realized it was just a little boy, her stance loosened. Heavy shackles and chains anchored her to the wall, with enough give she could walk around the room, and they rattled as she moved.
Marcus had jumped back outside the room, peeking around the doorframe, causing the scene to flicker in and out.
Hermione took a moment to study the young version of her mother. She'd never been a great beauty, but the smile she gave Marcus made the whole room warm. Her mother had always been a gentle soul, with a quick laugh and an energy behind her eyes that invigorated people. Her beauty beamed through her expressions.
"Don't be afraid," her mother whispered in a soft voice. "I won't hurt you. You just surprised me, is all. Come on in."
Marcus hesitated but walked in and placed a thumb in his mouth. His rounded toddler belly stuck out from under his black shirt.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"Maw-cus." The little boy answered. "What yours?"
"My name is Jean."
M
Hermione expected to see more, but the memory went fuzzy and then she jolted into another, landing in the exact same place, except this time, Marcus sat in her mother's lap, still sucking his thumb. She had a magical fairytale book open.
"And they lived happily ever after," her mother said. Hermione had read this book before and knew for a fact none of the stories ended happily. She obviously changed the endings to be more pleasant for the boy.
"Again," he said.
"That's it for tonight, but I have a present for you. Your elf told me you've turned a big four years old today."
Marcus grinned and nodded.
"I'm a big boy. Siggy told me so."
"That little elf is right." Her mother dug in her pocket and extracted a shiny rock—the fool's gold—and placed it in his hands. "I just happened to have this in my pocket when your daddy got me. I'd bought it for my boyfriend because he collects rocks, but I think you would like it more."
"Gold!" Marcus shouted, putting it up to his face. The low light made it glitter.
"Not quite, but close. It has a special type of magic," she said. "If you whisper your worries to it, it will shine and protect you. So next time you're scared of the dark all you need to do is hold it and whisper."
Marcus looked at the rock as if it was the greatest treasure he'd ever seen.
"Are you my mummy?" He asked.
Her mother looked troubled.
"If only I could be so lucky to have a sweet little boy like you!" She shook her head. "But I'm not your mummy. Don't you already have one?"
Marcus shrugged as if unsure.
"Daddy say she dead, but I don't know where dat is."
Her mother looked a little frozen at that, even more troubled. Her arms tightened around the little boy.
"Oh, it's a special place you'll visit one day. Until then, she's watching over you. And maybe she even sent me here to read you stories."
Marcus nodded as if that answered every question he had.
"What's dat?" He pointed to a necklace dangling from her throat. Her mother let the boy go just enough to tug it out from under her shirt, revealing the infinity necklace currently around Hermione's throat.
"This is just a silly trinket I got as a prize. The loops are the symbol for infinity. It means forever."
"Forever," Marcus whispered back.
M
The memory jolted once again, and this time she arrived right back in the room again, unsure of how much time was between each memory. Marcus hovered on a toy broom, and her mother clapped with each swoop, despite the heavy chains tugging her arms down.
The door to the room banged open. Marcus fell off the broom but bounced with the in-built cushioning charms as her mother scrambled back into the corner near the window.
Maurice Flint loomed in the doorway, sneering at the domestic display in front of him. With the short sleeves on his shirt, she saw both a Dark mark and a familiar golden dragon tattoo.
"Trying to infect my son with your filthy muggle ways?"
"No," she said.
"Get out brat."
Marcus frowned but stayed put. Maurice ignored him and turned his attention to her mother.
"The elf says you're done with your monthly bleeding."
Her mother shook hard like a leaf.
"Yes," her voice came out sharp, confused. "Why do you care?"
"Get in the bed and take off your clothes."
"What?"
"You heard me. Why else do you think you're here? If it wasn't for your bloodline, I'd have killed you weeks ago. This month will be spent continuing your lineage. You should be honored the Dark Lord is prioritizing this."
"Are you saying you're going to…"
"Of course, I am, though I find you distasteful."
"But I've never…"
He gave a little laugh.
"At least you're not contaminated." He looked her up and down and grimaced. "Trust me, if there was any other way to do this, I would. But we need a magical baby, an heir to the talent, and the only way to get that is to put one in you. The Dark Lord demanded it."
Maurice walked forward and shoved her mother to the bed, but Marcus went up and beat his little fists on his father's back.
"Don't hurt her!"
His father turned around in a rage and gave a swift kick to his son.
"I told you to get out."
Her mother screamed again, but this time for a different reason. Marcus curled on the ground, crying and clutching his stomach.
"Please…" She wrapped her hands around Flint's thick arms. "He's only a child. I—I'll do whatever you say without fighting, just don't hurt him."
Flint reached down and picked Marcus up by the hair. The little boy howled as his father dragged him to the door and flung him outside the room.
"Don't interfere again, boy."
Maurice slammed the door. A few moments later, she heard a hard slap, and her mother began screaming again. Marcus went and tapped on the door with his little fists.
"Mum," he whispered, tears in his eyes.
Hermione
Hermione ripped herself out of the memory. She panted close to the shimmering liquid, afraid she'd vomit.
"I can't do anymore."
"You need to see the rest," Marcus said. "It's important."
"I was conceived out of rape."
Marcus looked ill too.
"Yes," he affirmed. "Please… continue. You've gotten through some of the worst."
Hermione steeled herself, tears dripping down her cheek. She lurched in a heavy breath and dunked her head again.
M
Lighting flashed, illuminating the stone walls and Marcus shivering in fear, clutching his blankets close. He held the fool's gold and whispered urgently into it, but it didn't seem to help.
A few moments later, the little boy edged out of the bed and jumped when the sky rumbled again, wind hitting against the window. His bare feet slapped the stone floors as he ran out the room, Hermione following close behind.
His end destination was the room with her mother. He opened it slowly and stood in the doorway, and her mother startled awake.
"I'm scawed," Marcus said, putting his thumb in his mouth.
The bright moon highlighted the bruises decorating her face, a split lip, crusted blood on her cheek. Tears dripped steadily down her cheek, but her expression softened.
"I am too," she admitted. "Come here."
She moved over in the bed, and Marcus ran up, got on the bed, and cuddled under the blanket. Her mother winced in pain, but then settled and placed a kiss on his head and sung a familiar lullaby, one she remembered from her own childhood. It lanced through her as a physical pain, missing her mother more with each memory, finding it impossibly hard seeing her in this state.
M
The memory faded and shifted so fast Hermione found it hard to process. This time she stood in a garden. Her mother didn't have her shackles anymore but wore a pretty sundress that draped over her heavily pregnant belly.
She sat on the edge of a stone bench near a pond, where Marcus leaned over watching the minnows.
"Do you want to feel the baby move?"
Marcus ran over, and her mother helped place both his hands over where she must have been in her mother's stomach. He gasped when he felt movement and laid his head on her stomach as if to hear the heartbeats.
"You're going to be the best big brother," she said and then she bit her lip. "You need to protect the baby no matter what. Even if I'm not here."
"Why you not be here?" Marcus asked. His long eyelashes fluttered over green eyes.
Her mother looked into the sky, watching a few clouds float by and then reached for her necklace.
"Do you remember this?"
The boy nodded.
"Do you remember what it means?"
Marcus' face scrunched in thought.
"Forever."
"Yes, it means forever." She kneeled as best she could with her belly and touched both his shoulders. "Just like love. Always remember my love for you is infinity. It goes on and on. It will outlast the stars and outlast me. I need you to promise to feel the same for this baby."
Marcus nodded in a solemn way.
"I promise."
M
The memory changed, making Hermione nauseous with the whiplash feeling it left along her skin.
Her mother was back in her bed, but this time an old house elf flit around. Her mother's forehead was damp with sweat, but she had a tired smile on her face.
"Come here, Marcus, and meet your baby sister."
Marcus walked up, and her mother tilted the bundle of blankets in her arm, so her newborn face peeked out.
"She's ugly."
Her mother laughed and gave a scoff.
"All newborns are ugly. She'll be adorable in a few months, especially if she takes after her big brother."
Marcus kept an expression of suspicion on his face. It wasn't love at first sight. It was obvious he didn't like her mother holding another child.
A dark figure loomed behind Marcus. The Flint patriarch hovered under the doorframe, leaning one shoulder against the side with his hands in his pockets.
"It's a girl?" He asked.
Her mother gave a fearful nod.
"That's a shame." He walked forward and held out his hands. Her mother trembled holding her close, but she sensed she wouldn't win a fight, so reluctantly she handed Maurice the bundle.
He looked at the baby without expression.
"A girl isn't likely to inherit the talent… but I guess we'll see." He handed Hermione back to her mother, and she grasped her with a relieved sigh. "Maybe the next one will be a boy."
"Next one?" Her mother asked in a small voice.
Maurice reached down and touched his knuckles under her chin.
"I'm looking forward to it this time."
Her mother shrunk back into her pillow and looked ill.
"Ah, don't look so excited. It won't be for at least another year. The healer said to give you that much time between pregnancies, so the baby is healthy. If you must know, this will be your life. I intend for you to produce as many offspring as possible. If you're a good girl, maybe the dark lord will let you keep one as a reward. The others will be taken with the first sign of magic."
Maurice turned to leave and then spotted Marcus and frowned.
"Name the girl Clarice."
Her mother grimaced.
"I had another name in mind, from a book I once read. I liked Hermi—"
"Clarice," Maurice said in a hard voice. "I've decided."
Her mother bit her bottom lip and nodded with agreement, but there was a fire in her eyes, a defiance.
Maurice noticed and sneered, giving a cruel grin.
"Just so you understand… if this baby takes after you and produces no magic by the age of six, then I'm flinging her from the top of the tower. I'll make you watch too."
Her mother went pale.
M
The scene abruptly changed. They were in a different room she didn't recognize that looked connected to the kitchen. Her mother was busy helping the elf roll out dough, while Marcus played with Hermione on the floor.
Baby Hermione was on a blanket only in her nappy and socks. Little curls already twisted around her head. She looked about six months, give or take, just learning to sit. Every so often, she'd tip over. It jolted her, but there was a cushioning charm on the blanket to soften the fall. Each time it happened, Marcus sat her back upright.
"I'm a hippogwiff." Marcus leaned his head down, and baby Hermione gripped his hair and tried to chew on it. Instead of pulling away, Marcus pushed forward until Hermione tilted backward still clutching his head. Marcus blew on her stomach, making a funny noise that made them both giggle.
"What's this mum?"
Her mother looked to where Marcus pointed to her stomach.
"That's a birthmark."
"It looks like a strawberry."
Her mother tilted her head.
"It does a little bit."
"Strawberry!" Marcus poked her belly, making her giggle again.
M
The memory whiplashed, making Hermione almost vomit. Maurice barreled into her mother's room. Marcus was on the bed almost asleep, while her mother was humming and rocking Hermione, who looked much older, maybe a toddler. Heavy chains were back on her wrists, attaching her to the wall, though it gave enough room to move around.
Her father's clothes were ripped and torn. Burns seared down his arms. He was missing an ear and swayed on his feet. Blood covered his body and dripped as he moved.
"Wh-what's wrong?"
"Don't pretend to care." Her father took a step forward but decided different and placed a hand on the doorframe. "The Dark Lord is dead, defeated by a fucking baby. The Order is hunting down the sympathizers." He pointed his wand at her. "I was told to kill you. Cover all traces. They didn't want you falling into the wrong hands. Better to have you dead than against us."
Her mother stood, placing Hermione down in her cot. The toddler woke up and cried with the sudden movement.
The room went still. There was nothing her mother could do to protect herself, nowhere to hide. All Maurice had to do was mutter two words and mean it. The wand hovered in the air and then dropped. For some reason, he looked conflicted.
"I'm going to be arrested," he said. "The Order will find you soon and probably kill you and the girl for me."
"Kill me?"
"You're a threat. That old man pretends to be so righteous, but he does terrible things for peace and power. He'll either kill you or use you. Don't be fooled by his promises."
He walked forward, finding strength to stumble close to her mother, who backed into the stone as if to disappear. Her whole body shook with fear. When he got to her, he brought his hand up and she flinched, but he gently brushed her curls behind her ear.
"If they keep you alive, I'll find you again. They can't hold me long in Azkaban. There're not enough eyewitness testimonies to put me away longer than three years. It's a shame I didn't put another babe in your belly before this, but maybe there's time for one last attempt. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
She made a little noise of despair at that, trembling as he leaned down to kiss her. Her mother jerked away at the last moment, his lips landing on her cheek. He hovered there, breathing hard before backing up.
In anger, he gripped her hair, tugging her head back, so it was harder to move.
"You're mine. Don't ever forget it. I own every part of you."
A noise interrupted whatever he was about to do next. The wards popping. The Order arrived.
He sighed and gave a single, brutal kiss, pressing hard enough her mother cried out. Then he stumbled away, blood seeping out of his wounds, giving a glance to his son sitting on the bed. His usual dead stare morphed into something that might have been regret. But it didn't last long, before he exited the room.
Her mother stayed frozen for several minutes. She reached down and picked up Hermione, clutching her tight to her chest. She seemed in shock, stunned, unable to think. And then she shook her head and looked down at Marcus. The little boy had slid off the bed and now stood near her leg.
"Siggy," her mother called out. A moment later the old house elf popped into view. The poor thing looked terrified but determined, already knowing danger approached.
She leaned down to Marcus' level. They boy looked older now, maybe six or seven.
"You are such a brave boy. You've made me so ha—" Her mother gasped in a sob. "So happy. The only happy thing here besides your little sister. I'm going to need you to be brave one last time. Are you strong enough to hold her?"
"It think so."
When her mother handed down the toddler, Marcus brought her to his chest, wrapping arms around her back, as Hermione laid her head on his shoulder.
"Go with Siggy and hide somewhere until everyone is gone."
"But I want to stay with you."
"No, Marcus," her voice was firm. "You need to leave and hide her or else she might get hurt. I can't go with you. Your father had the only keys to these chains."
His little face morphed into terror at that.
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine."
Marcus looked hesitant, but then he nodded. The elf tugged on his arm, and he followed her out of the room.
"Marcus," she said, and then boy looked over his shoulder. "It means forever... my love for you. Always remember" A noise sounded down in the main part of the castle. Spells being used to break down more wards. "Don't look back! Hide!"
"Mum…" It looked like Marcus might run back to her mother, but the elf dug her little fingers into his skin, and he followed her out of the room.
Hermione trailed after the three small beings. Marcus struggled to hold the baby, but he managed to keep her up as they went up and down staircases, going through rarely used passageways, filled with cobwebs. The elf looked around before pushing a final door that opened to the night sky.
They traveled through the grass. Aurors flooded the grounds, but the elf managed to keep them out of sight, until they rounded a large shrubbery and stumbled into a familiar Hogwarts headmaster.
Marcus yelped in surprise and attempted to run the opposite way, but Dumbledore's heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him. In response, Marcus began to struggle. The elf curled into the corner, grabbing her ears and shuddering. She was a nursery elf, unable to fight even if she wanted to.
"Let me go!" He howled.
"Do not be afraid."
"I'm not going to let you kill her!" Little sparks of magic exited his hands, but it wasn't enough.
"I assume that's something your father told you." His expression turned gentle and sad. "But I'm not going to hurt her."
"Liar!"
Dumbledore sighed, holding Marcus patiently until the boy stopped struggling and began to cry. Baby Hermione cried too, not understanding what happened, but understanding that her favorite person was scared and upset.
"Give her to me."
"No!"
Dumbledore gave a sad stare and then let go of Marcus and waved his hand. The boy froze, eyes wide with terror. Dumbledore extracted Hermione from his arms. The toddler cried, reaching her chubby arms towards her brother.
"I'll come back to you when I'm finished making several hard decisions."
The venerated wizard hesitated for a single moment before giving another sigh and walking away, his robes twinkling under the moonlight.
M
The memory flashed in and out, and Hermione remained in the same spot. Marcus stayed frozen in front of her. Hermione didn't know how much time had passed, but she suspected it might be several hours. Dumbledore's nonverbal Petrificus Totalus remained strong.
Footsteps approached, crunching leaves and branches under the feet. Dumbledore arrived to retrieve Marcus without baby Hermione. He looked much sadder than before, face long, the usual twinkle absent.
"It's over, child." Dumbledore waved his hand, releasing Marcus from the spell. The boy collapsed, panting against the ground. He glanced up with a glare, dark and violent for a child so young. He stood with fists clenched as if to attack the old wizard.
"I understand your fear. It must be confusing for one so young. No child should suffer from war, but it's inevitable some will. Your anger is—"
Marcus twisted and ran before Dumbledore could stop him. He sprinted hard and fast, moving back the path he arrived.
"Mum," he cried as he ran. Hermione found it hard to keep up with him.
The elf wasn't there to lead him back, but the boy seemed to know his way on his own. His little feet pounded up staircases, pushing the cobwebs that wrapped around him away frantically. His legs flew over the obstacles, until he arrived back at the door he'd exited hours before.
He slowed and then sucked in a breath. The door gaped open, so he only pushed it aside.
The room was how he left it, except her mother was gone, chains empty. A puddle of blood splattered in the center of the floor. And in the center of the blood rested the infinity necklace. He walked forward and picked up the jewelry, covered in sticky crimson.
"Mum." This time his voice cracked with the weight of sudden grief.
She understood the conclusion he made with the discovery—Marcus believed they'd both been killed, like his father said.
The boy kneeled in the blood, taking out the fool's gold and cried against the stone. A deep wail exited his mouth, a primal sound that raised the hair on her arms.
Footsteps echoed up the stairs and once again Dumbledore appeared.
He stared at the scene before him, watching a broken boy crying for his mother and little sister. A boy alone in a home torn by war. Pity ruled his features, but he wore a mask of determined patience.
Tell him we're alive, Hermione wanted to whisper, wishing to take away Marcus' pain. Tell him you hid us.
But instead, Dumbledore walked forward and placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It had to be done. The wizarding world depended on it."
The animalistic wails increased. Another auror entered, freezing at the sight of the child.
"Take the boy," Dumbledore ordered. "I believe he has an uncle that can assume guardianship."
The auror nodded. Once Marcus realized he'd be taken from his home, he howled and kicked. But, in the end, it didn't matter. The boy was dragged from the room, screaming his grief and rage.
M
She thought that would be it, but Hermione landed into another memory. As soon as she arrived, she understood Marcus hadn't meant for her to see this one. It must have been accidentally extracted with the others.
The room was dark and foreign. A handsome middle-aged man kneeled before her with a broken nose, blood dripping from his mouth, and the same green eyes as Marcus. Both hands hung at his sides.
Marcus stood before him, pointing a trembling wand. He looked young, maybe fresh out of Hogwarts. The sleeves of his robes trailed up to reveal the dark mark.
"You must do it," the man said, looking at him with soft eyes.
"I can't."
"You can. If you don't, Bellatrix will come back and finish what she started. I trust you to do it without suffering."
Marcus continued to tremble. His skin leeched of color, and his eyes turned a suspicious shade of red, as if attempting to hold in tears.
"I—I've never…"
The man's face softened.
"Do you remember the injured rabbit you tried to save when you were nine? No matter what we did it stayed in pain. It would have been cruel to let it continue to live, so what did I do?"
"You killed it."
"Yes, Marcus," he said. "Sometimes death is mercy. If you do not find the strength to give me that, then you're no better than your father."
Marcus jaw clenched.
"Ava—" He choked on his voice, a sound of deep despair. "I can't do it, uncle. Please don't make me do it."
There were noises above, and Hermione picked up the distinctive cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.
"When you say the words, think of your father." His uncle sat back, mouth set in determined lines. "Make it brutal enough no one can question your intentions. Please son… survive this and find something to keep your humanity. Find someone to love. Don't turn into your father. It's the last request I'll make."
The cackling voice came closer, right outside the door. He'd run out of time.
Marcus looked as if he might vomit, but he nodded his promise and pointed his wand again at the man's head.
"Avada Kedavra."
The curse was successful.