806


Part I: A Black Riddle

He cried out, and then he fell.

Father! Help me, please god, save me from him! Dad! Daddy!...

But all was silent. Darkness echoed around him, and he was stunned. He was used to the dark, but this was... quite a bit more than just dark. He couldn't see his own hands.

As a matter of fact, He wasn't sure he still had hands.

And then, a face. A face all too familiar, a face that brought the deepest darkest memories from His thoughts.

It had just been a newspaper photo of a black-haired boy. Just a wizarding photo.

It was just a photo, but every nuance of the boy had been burnt into His memory.

Torture sessions involving a single photograph could do things to you.

But to see this face, to see the photo in living color....

He screamed, and then all was black again.

The eldest boy walked cautiously into Wing 800, looking around. He had heard that a new boy had come to the Home, and as eldest, it was his job to find out who this boy was. All he had overheard from the Matron was that the boy had an awful lot of scars, rivaling the eldest's collection himself.

His attention was drawn almost instantly from his thoughts to whimpering from bed 806. The eldest walked up to the bed, staring in astonishment. It was a fully grown man in the bed, a man as old as the Master was. The eldest stared in astonishment as the man continued to shudder violently, his whole body shaking. He had been brought in just three days ago, fighting with every inch of his life. The new ones always did, of course, but none with such a passion as this man. He had a haunted, thin look to him, and looked pained. The notion of the scars came back to the eldest as he remembered not all scars were physical.

Suddenly, the eldest heard footsteps coming from the hall. Knowing he had no escape route other than the main door, he dove under the bed across from the man's, 807. A moment later, the Matron came in, big and plump with a scary face, but as kind and sweet as a flower to her boys. The eldest peeked out from the bottom of the bed as the Matron walked over to the man in bed 806 in her brown woolen nightgown.

He's a fighter, alright, the Matron murmured as she tucked his convulsing body tightly into his bedsheets, her tone soothing. He'd have to be. The poor man wouldn't have been pulled in here, otherwise. The Master's mind is rather picky when it comes to spirits... as well as their bodies. She took a cotton ball from the metallic bedside tray, and dipped it in a shallow bowl, also on the tray. The cotton ball absorbed the alcohol quickly, and the Matron shook any droplets loose before wiping the boy's forearm with it.

His mind is rather fragile for this environment, though, she muttered, picking up one of the many syringes on the bedside tray. It's almost as if... well, I can't do more than speculate, of course, but it's almost like he's fighting the Home... as if he's still alive. The eldest, whose eyes were wide and curious by this time, had to clap his hands over his mouth so as not to gasp. The notion of one of the boys being alive was near-heretic.

Relief flooded him as the Matron scoffed loudly at her own idea, tapping the glass syringe once, nodding satisfactorily as the clear liquid settled. Good. No bubbles. We can't have your veins popping out, now can we, love? She reached out to take his right arm firmly in her rather chubby hand, gripping it tightly. The man's arm was kept relatively still, but the rest of his body was still shivering intensely.

Dear child... my dear, dear child... We need to hush up all that shuddering, don't we? I've never lost a soul yet, and I don't intend to now... Hush, my darling. Let the Matron work her magic.

And she stuck the needle into his arm, slowly inserting the clear liquid into a vein. Almost instantly, the man's shuddering began to cease. Within a minute, he was completely still, and his fists began to uncurl. The Matron smiled, withdrawing the syringe from his arm, and set it aside.

There... That wasn't so bad, sweetie, now was it? It should help your mind make the transition to this plane with a less of a struggle. She smoothed his matted black hair back, setting a wet cloth on his forehead. The man whimpered softly at the touch, then was still. Moonlight shone from the glass ceiling, framing the Matron's sympathetic face and the man's anguished one, and she stroked his cheek softly with a chubby finger before turning and exiting.

The eldest child waited with baited breath until he could no longer hear the Matron's footsteps, and even then he slid out from under the bed warily. He stood up, brushing off what little floor-dust was on him, and tiptoed over to the man's bed. 806 looked almost peaceful now, save the long, thin wound that ran from his forehead to his chin, across his nose, and the clenched way he held his whole face.

So... you're the new boy... the eldest whispered to 806. Though not much of a boy at all, really. Even so, you better watch out. The younger kids are always willing to give their position away, and being the newest isn't exactly a great thing. He grimaced. This Home is nice, though. Not like before. Before, I was trapped. I was hurt a lot. There were boys... Well, there were boys that weren't very nice. They wanted to hurt me. And then... Then I was suddenly here. The Matron said I was here to keep the Master happy, and to keep me happy, and prevent me from getting hurt. The eldest shrugged. I used to visit the Master a lot. But I don't remember much of that anymore. Because, the Master... He just vanished.

He looked down at the sleeping boy, frowning. The Matron said he had to abandon me. But she told me to be strong. She said, Tom, some things happen for a reason.' That's my name, you know. Tom. I don't know my last name. I don't know if I even have one. Do you have a name? The eldest glanced down at the chart on the metallic table, reading the first line quickly.

It says your name is Sirius. That's a nice name. Do you believe all things happen for a reason, Sirius? he asked, looking at the hollow-cheeked man in the bed. Because I do. Tom smiled softly. Are you here for a reason, Sirius?

murmured Sirius, his eyes fluttering. Tom stepped back towards the empty bed labeled 807, his eyes widening.

Are you waking up? he asked, staring down. The black haired boy murmured something again, and then his eyes, a deep, cold grey, snapped open and focused on Tom. And he said a word which made Tom's insides freeze.








The first thought in Sirius's mind as his eyes opened was of his godson. Sirius croaked out, his vocal chords hoarse, feeling like he'd just escaped from Azkaban all over again.

And then he saw him. The photo. The photo, the photo, the photo in real life—

WHERE HAVE YOU HIDDEN YOUR MASTER? Barty Crouch thundered at Sirius, who was chained to the wall, his chin gripped tightly in Crouch's fingers to make him look into Crouch's eyes. Crouch held his wand in his other hand, Sirius knew; it had been pressed into his left temple for the past twenty minutes. Crouch obviously thought the Imperius would be stronger if the wand casting it was right against his mind.

Where are the Aurors that are supposed to be watching me? What has happened to my department? Sirius wondered in a back part of his brain, the other parts concentrated on throwing off the Imperius. In addition, joking with himself seemed to keep him in tune with reality and make him less likely to drift off into the dream-sleep that was the Imperius curse.



Crouch really likes to shout in my ear, Sirius thought wryly, his mind tossing the curse aside, when any kind of curse can be whispered with the same kind of effect. ... Maybe he just likes screaming because it makes him sound more powerful.

A hard smack with Crouch's wand to Sirius's temple brought him out of his back-mind thoughts. Sirius tried to raise an eyebrow wearily at Crouch, his eyes still defiant even though the rest of his body was refusing to cooperate. You know, Black, you're not even worth my time to concentrate on. You don't deserve to have any time wasted on you. You're a Death Eater. You betrayed your friends—

But for all that torture, there was one thing that bothered Sirius the most, and that thing was those two words, and suddenly, Crouch's sleeves caught on fire. The head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation backed away, dropping his wand and Sirius's chin in surprise. Crouch frantically patted the fire out, oblivious to the fact that he could have easily put the fire out with his wand.

Very funny, Black. Crouch sneered, gingerly picking up his wand from the floor. But did you stop to consider anyone else's reactions? No, you're just the funny boy. You think everything's a big joke.

You know... what's... funny... Sirius murmured, his voice breaking, the Lestranges... been talking about your boy, Barty...

Crouch froze.

What are you muttering?.... Crouch asked, disbelievingly. A new emotion for Barty Crouch, for sure. But Sirius didn't care. He wanted to hurt Crouch for calling him that.

They've... They've been saying, Barty... Your boy's a Death Eater.

And then Crouch's fist slammed Sirius's head into the wall, his cheek and temple exploding with pain. Crouch spat. How could you dirty my boy's name with your LIES? CRUCIO!

Sirius only had a millisecond to submerge his mind completely in that back part before the pain hit him. Moody had taught him that if you didn't, your mind would be permanently affected by the curse, possibly making you mad. And whether or not he was thought mad by his friends, by the whole wizarding population, even, he was not going to go mad from Barty Crouch's Unforgivables.

When Sirius noticed that the pain was receding, he brought his mind up and saw out of the corner of his eyes that Crouch was glaring at him.

So, our new convict isn't touched by the Unforgivables? Yes, that's right, Alastor was always bragging that you were rather good at throwing them off, moreso than anyone. He grinned maliciously. Guess we know why now, hmm?

Crouch stepped forward, and raised Sirius's head and jaw roughly again. But, I wonder, Black... Can you throw off death? Have you sold your soul so very far that you can mirror the Boy Who Lived? Crouch's smile turned into a snarl. Or maybe even your master. You're a very clever one, Black, I'll give you that. To save your master from death... You must know he had been studying it. He had even perfected an old curse, one to open a doorway into the Spirit world, to take a little part of it away, and turn it into his own hellish prison.

Did you know that, scum? Did you know he has half of the people you used to work with trapped in that prison? Do you know that if the Ministry hadn't been able to steal his gateway, your precious James and Lily Potter would have been in the same hell? Crouch spat at Sirius. Was he promising you redemption, Black? A place by the fire for you when he was in control of the world? Why did you do it?

I... didn't. Sirius managed to get out.

Which earned himself another slap. Innocent until proven guilty. Hah. Isn't that what the Muggle courts say? Well, guess what, Black. You're not a muggle, and you're not innocent, and soon enough in our world it's gonna be what I say, goes, and you know what? I say Death Eaters are always guilty and will never earn redemption no matter what they protest. The only thing your protested innocence will get you is another slap and a date with Dementors. So, let's try this again. Why did you do it?

I... DIDN'T. Sirius said, more loudly this time, looking Crouch in the eyes, meeting those round orbs of steel blow for blow. I... don't... work... for... HIM. I... hate...

Crouch sneered, glaring back into his eyes. So, Lily and James Potter were just... magically destroyed? Because the Fidelius Charm isn't really all that powerful anymore? Save it for the Quibbler, Black. And speaking of the Quibbler.... Crouch pulled a rolled-up newspaper from his robes, unrolling it and showing the Quibbler's header—a news story that made Sirius's insides freeze.

IS THE BOY WHO LIVED SECRETLY VOLDEMORT IN DISGUISE? Crouch read, grinning. See the similarities! The pictures! The intrigue! He chuckled. You see those two pictures? Those two wizards are Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry Potter. Do you know who Tom Marvolo Riddle is, Black? Most people in the world don't, but you aren't most people... One of these pictures is of your master. The other's of Harry Potter. Two pictures of adorable little toddlers.

You say you hate Voldemort, Black. So tell me you hate him under Veritaserum. I'll give you the vial, and then tell me that you hate the picture of the Dark Lord. Your name will be cleared. But what if you choose the wrong picture, and you say you hate Harry Potter instead? In the new system, Black, that's as good as a confession. I can lock you up in Azkaban forever. So, choose wisely, Black.

He sneered at Black, and swished his wand. The pictures left the page of the Quibbler and formed smoky, patronus-like images between Sirius and Crouch. Crouch muttered the body-bind spell, and Sirius's eyes and neck were forced to stay in their position, his pupils unwillingly transfixed on the photos.

They were more alike than Sirius could've dreamed. Each boy had the same, wide eyes, the same messy black hair... It was almost like looking at a picture of James and Harry, except James had the more angular eyes, and... No thinking of James. But the similarities in the pictures were immense....

A prick in his arm from Crouch inserting the Veritaserum IV suddenly made Sirius's eyesight blurry, and the pictures switched places. And merged. And switched places again. And before long, Sirius could only see one picture.... And Crouch was laughing, and screaming, SAY YOU HATE HIM! HATE HIM, AND YOU HATE HARRY TOO!

And all time was gone.



The memory fading, Sirius stared blankly into the dark grey eyes of the picture come to life. Tom Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. All thoughts of who he was focusing on... A son? A grandson? What?...

All thoughts were gone, replaced by his face.

he rasped, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

The boy recoiled against the opposite bed with Sirius's mention of that name, his eyes widening intensely, starting to shake uncontrollably. he cried, his whole face ashen. Don't say that name, that's the master's name, don't, don't, don't, don't... It's an evil name, Sirius, don't say it, please, please, please...

Sirius stared in amazement, not bothering to question how Riddle knew his name. He was exactly like the photograph of his nightmares—except the expression. The child's face was frozen in terror.

Right then, it didn't matter to Sirius who the boy whimpering against the bed was. He was in pain. And Sirius knew too much about going through pain to let any child go through it.

Sirius murmured, trying to make his vocal chords work, kid, I'm... I'm sorry... Please don't cry...

The boy, still shivering, looked up to Sirius's eyes. I'm not crying, he said between sniffs. I just don't want the Matron to come. You can't say that name around here. The Matron will come, you'll see. She takes care of us, and we don't want to summon the master. The master, the master, he'll come and hurt us, and Sirius, the master doesn't know you're here, the Matron's put you in the 800 wing, he never visits the 800 wing, and this bed... Well, he hates the 800 wing. He hates it. It scares him, Sirius, scares him so... Riddle looked up towards Sirius, fear evident in his eyes. But if you're not quiet, she will. She'll come and she'll have to silence you before he comes.

Sirius swallowed uneasily. The boy's rambling wasn't making much sense, and even if he could decipher it, there was still the matter of Riddle's breakdown. And Sirius hadn't much experience dealing with comforting teenage boys. There was one he used to comfort, once, but he couldn't remember the name, couldn't think... Sirius closed his eyes and breathed, clearing his mind. No need to get into a panic about something he couldn't remember. Just concentrate on the present.

Um... He? Sirius asked tentatively, remembering the last part of the boy's statement. You mean Vol--the person who's name I'm not supposed to say?

Riddle nodded, now fully on the other bed, hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. It calls him here, Sirius. Don't you know that?

Sirius's fears dissolved slightly at the same definition of Why to avoid You-Know-Who's name he had been given since he was five years old. Funny that all the morbid things kept coming back to him. Listen, kid--

Tom, Sirius, I already told you.

Sirius swallowed. Uh... Tom... that's just a superstition to keep kids from going around cockily and saying it. There's nothing wrong with saying Vol—

Riddle cried, then slapped both of his hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the entrance, looking for shadows. However, the steel doors stayed still, and eventually he looked away. Sirius saw he was shivering yet again.

Hey, Tom... what is it? Why are you so frightened of a name?

Riddle looked up at him with those steel eyes of his that, if only blue, could have been... someone's. Someone's he remembered, but didn't. Because he banished us here with that name. Don't you remember the chanting? The voices? The curtain?

Sirius murmured, looking strangely at Riddle. The... curtain... veil...

And then, in a rush, it all came back.

Run... Sirius, your house-elf...

Disbelief. Harry. Danger. Harry in danger.

Order members. Run. Get Remus, get Tonks—

Malfoy. Bella. Cousin. Rotten dirty little cousin who used to put snakes in Annie's hair—Dolohov. Dolohov. Threatening Harry. Harry.

Smash. Turn. Dodge. Twist. PETRIFICUS TOTALUS! Saved. Harry. Nice one, Harry, now get out—

Tonks. Falling. Annie's daughter. Distraction. Bella. Bellatrix. Green. Dodge. Swing. Attack. Fall back. Must not let Harry be caught. Crash. Voices. No time. Ignore. Smash. Turn. Dodge. Twist. Spells. Fire. Fire. Boom. Boom. So much noise. Tune out. Focus.

Bella. Stupid, dumb Bella. Always her. Always the mean one. Hurtful. Tortured puppies. My puppy. Rodolphus. Betrayed my brother. Betrayed Harry.

Scum. COME ON, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!

Light. Red Light. Green Light. Stop. Go. Just like muggle traffic.

But I didn't go.

I stopped.

And.

I.

Dropped.

Down.

Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort Come with me Come with me Come with me Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort...

Swish.

Fall.

Failure.

Harry's face.

Come with me....

Gone.

Gone.

Gone.





Tom saw tears drip down the man's face as he remembered. Real, fat, normal tears, tears that came from somewhere other than fright, tears.

Tears that came from a new, strange emotion Tom wasn't used to seeing.

Sirius moaned, Oh, Harry, how could I have... Forgive me... He collapsed inwardly, sobbing into his hands, and Tom could only stare. What could he do? The children here weren't supposed to remember anything before the curtain. Frank didn't. Allen didn't. Friedrich didn't. Alice didn't. All they ever talked about was the swishing of the veil, and the voices. Come with me, Voldemort... They never remembered before.

So why did he?

Sirius cried, Dead, I'm dead... I failed him, Harry, Merlin, Harry, I'm sorry... He was in pain. Maybe, Tom thought, maybe he should get the Matron and tell her. But then the Matron would get mad at him, ask him why he was out of bed, in the forbidden wing... Tom shook his head. There was no way he could get her. But Sirius was hurting...

However, when Tom looked over at the man, he had stopped sobbing visibly, even though tears still stained his pale cheeks. Sirius was now glancing around the room. Tom looked around with him, watched as he saw the ceiling skylights, the rows of other beds, the steel double doors, closed with moonlight streaming through...

Sirius murmured, I'm not dead. Not really... I'm in limbo. His private hell. Huh. Seems I can be killed after all, Crouch.

Then he started to laugh. Softly, at first, then increasing until his laughter echoed throughout the 800 wing. Tom recoiled at the laughter; Sirius suddenly seemed a lot older than he looked. His eyes, confused at first, now had a deadly quality to them Tom had never seen in anyone but... Him.

Tom asked, surprised his voice didn't fail him. The eyes of madness focused on him.

I've failed them twice, Tom. A haunted look replaced the mad one.

What? Who?

Sirius shrugged, collapsing back into the pillows behind him. My friends. My loves. Everything and everyone I care about.

Tom frowned. What on earth was he supposed to say to that? You shouldn't be remembering any of this, he stated. The Matron gave you something to make you well. It should all be gone now.

Sirius's eyes flared up in alarm, and he sat up quickly, obviously ignoring the immense pain it gave him to do so.

Tom moved backwards, to the other edge of bed 807, the one away from Sirius. Bedridden or not, he looked like he could kill someone. It should all be gone soon, Sirius. Then you'll be one of us. It's not so bad, really. Kids have it good here. You'll make new friends—

Are you insane, Riddle? Sirius spat out. This is living death. It's worse than death. You expect me to forget my old life and live here? What's here? A bloody orphanage? I will not forget Harry, dammit, not Harry, not Tonks, not Remus, not ANYONE!

Sirius's eyes were flashing dangerously, his body tense, and Tom wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and hide. But he wouldn't let himself. This was nothing more than yet another silly, rebellious boy, just like he used to have to deal with. Tom just wished he felt stronger.

Sirius, you have no way of going back. Tom said, staring straight back into the viper's eyes. Older than us or not, you are here forever. There's no way out. Your friends are gone. You can't remember them, you just can't. Your memory will be gone soon. The Matron already fixed you up, you will be well soon. And then you'll just be one of us. There's nothing you can do to stop it.

Tom watched Sirius glance down surprisingly at his hands. His arms. I... I...

You're just a boy, now, Sirius. Just like us. Tom said, trying to add a measure of comfort to his voice. Sirius, however, looked anything but.

Sirius mumbled, slumping back. All previous energy was gone from his body, and he once again looked frail. I didn't mean to... Just... so... I don't know anymore. Ever since I fell through, things have seemed so...

Wait... you fell? With your body? Tom interjected. That was curious. No one had ever come here with their body before.

Sirius nodded limply. Yeah... I don't really want to talk about it.

Okay, Sirius.

They sat there in silence for a moment.

How long will it take me to lose my memory? Sirius finally asked.

Tom bit his lip. I don't know, Sirius. All the others came here with no memory already. You're special, though, if you really came through with your... your body. On top of that, the Matron said... Tom shuddered as he remembered. The Matron said you were still alive.

Did she, now? Sirius scratched his head for a moment, then began to smile. He looked like he was plotting something. Hmm.. tell me, Tom, who's this Matron? I'd like to meet her.

Well, Sirius, that's kinda impossible. She's an adult; we don't talk to adults lest they come and talk to us.

Sirius shrugged. That's a pretty stupid rule. Besides that, he grinned maniacally, you're talking to me, aren't you?

Yeah, but you're different, Sirius.

He grinned. I'm still an adult. Therefore, you broke one of your rules. And Tom, you just learned the first thing about real life: rules are made to be broken. He winked at Tom, who gave Sirius a quizzical look in response.

Sirius, what are you planning to do?

He grinned. Tom shuddered inwardly. Sirius was utterly mad. If this is what live people were like, Tom hoped never ever to meet one again. What makes you think I'm planning anything? Sirius winked at Tom again. So, eh, the doors are locked. How are you getting out of this prison, hrm?

I have a special way of getting out. Tom said matter-of-factly.

There, see? Second rule broken. You're a natural prankster, Tom. Sirius smiled, and Tom found himself grinning right alongside him. His energy was contagious. Tom got up on top of bed 807, and pulled out a short stick from the back of his pocket. The stick was very handy. It unlocked things that people couldn't open, turned yucky food into candy, and turned brick walls into stairwells. He tapped three times on the brick wall, and it vanished, revealing a small hole he could crawl into.

You have a wand? Sirius exclaimed from behind him. Tom turned around to look at the boy.

A what?

A wand. What you're holding. Tom looked down at the stick.

It's just a piece of wolvesbane root, Sirius. From the garden. He gestured to the windows. Do you call wolvesbane root in... Outside? Sirius shook his head, and gently pushed himself up from the bed.

No, it's—ah, how can I explain—eh— Tom waved his free hand at Sirius.

It doesn't matter. He tapped the hole again with the -stick, watching the wall put itself back together, and sat back down, watching Sirius. The man was stroking the small, scraggly goatee he had, muttering things under his breath.

Yeah... If I... Ministry... Harry... Tom scratched his head.

What are you thinking about, Sirius? he asked.

How to get back, Sirius answered, drawing what seemed to be a miniature blueprint into his hand with a finger. Tom stared at him a moment, then broke out into giggles.

Go back? Sirius, haven't you been listening to me? It's impossible! There's no way out of the Home. Keep your memories if you must, but Sirius, you can't go back.

The Matron can, I bet. She's the key. I'll just talk to her tomorrow, and—

Tom forlornly shook his head. The Matron came here the same time I did. She has no way out either. The only one who can come and go is the Master.

She doesn't leave? Sirius asked, his eyes drooping for a moment, then flashing back up. Did she ever used to? Tom shook his head again.

I'm sorry, Sirius. But really, don't take it so hard. The Home is nice. You'll get used to it soon... Your old friends will get over you. Everything will be okay, okay?

Sirius sighed, retreating back into his mind. I doubt it.

But, Sirius...

He held a hand tiredly up. Just go, alright? I need some time to think. Who knows, maybe my memory will go away overnight, and I'll won't be a problem anymore.

Tom scooted towards bed 806, frowning. Why did he act so strangely? One minute he was haunted, the next happy, then forlorn... The boy was completely mad, and if Tom were thinking clearly, he'd have left his curiosity alone and never gone to investigate. But he had, and he'd discovered Sirius. Um... If you are alive... I don't think the Matron could have hurt you. Not right away, at least. It's designed to detach the soul from the body in the real world, but because you've come with both, it might not work. It hasn't started yet, that I know.

And how do you know that? Sirius mumbled.

Simple. You woke up, you stayed awake, and you've been using your muscles this whole time. With that, Tom jumped back up on the bed and tapped the wall with his stick, watching it recede. He climbed in, but at the last moment, stuck his head out, looking at the fetal form of the occupant of bed 806. Hey, Sirius?

Sirius mumbled something in response which Tom took for a yes. Um... When I come by tomorrow... Tell me about your old life? Outside?

Sirius's form turned around towards Tom. In the moonlight, Tom saw Sirius break out into a small smile. Only if you'll tell me everything you know about this place.

Tom smiled back. It's a promise, Sirius. he called out, then tapped the wall. Wing 806 disappeared from his vision. It's a promise.




As Tom slipped into his bed back in the 100 wing, being careful not to wake the other boys, a chill came through the open window at the end of the wing. Grumbling under his breath, Tom slipped out of his bed once more, cringing at the icy floor. The 800 wing was considerably warmer than his own wing. Maybe it was forbidden because it was so nice. It was certainly bigger than any of the other wings he'd been to.

Tom reached the barred window without much delay, and started to drag the cover over the window when he saw a black raven in the garden, nearly invisible in the darkness. Unlike the other birds that hung around near the Home, this one had red pupils. Tom shuddered as the bird's head snapped and focused on him. In a fright, he quickly pulled the cover all the way over the window and closed the drapes.

Tom? Whassat? a voice behind him muttered. Tom spun around to see Armando, the first person to come to the Home after Tom, sitting up blearily in his bed. Whassa goin' on, eh?

Tom shuddered again, and forced a smile to the boy in the darkness. The window was open again. I closed it.

Ah. Good sport, keeping us warm. You always were a nice chap, Tom. With that, Armando fell back into his bed, snoring.

Tom murmured, glancing once more before going back to bed. It was a good thing the nightmares had gone away ages ago... He had no desire to see that bird again in his dreams. Goodnight, Armando.




The raven watched the boy close the window in a hurry. Scared, pah. That boy was scared of everything. Not like the raven. He was never scared, no. Never, never, never scared. Nevermore. He no longer knew what the term meant. Not like that useless excuse of a boy. The raven couldn't remember why he had cared for him in the first place.

Of course, there was that ability of the boy's to instantly record information, and the raven was only too happy to extract and copy this information. A certain visit to a forbidden wing, and a conversation with a... certain person...

Ahhhhh, yes, this was indeed interesting. Very interesting indeed.

With a squawk, the raven took flight into the skies. When he got back, he would certainly have to act on this information. A chance like this could not be wasted.

Tomorrow, the raven would once again prove his strength to the Outside.


End Part I