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Chapter 12
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Irvan transformed from his animangus shape, thankful Sybil was generous enough to wait until everyone had left the room. He was still annoyed at her placement of the wards. He really would have left had those not been in place. He did wonder how there could be wards to keep certain creatures in and let others out; he wondered but had no desire to learn.
Irvan neglected to give common courtesy to the Divinations' Professor and stood waiting for the conversation to begin. If anything he would listen then leave, but that was only if Sybil was not in a talkative mood. He was certain Harry would have found this situation interesting. Surely the boy did not think Trelawney was anything more than a fraud Divinations' professor.
"So, Irvan, what are you doing here?" she question, putting a fresh pot of tea on to heat. From that gesture, Irvan concluded that he would be spending more time in this attic than he deemed necessary. "The last time we met, I got the impression you were hiding from some people. Your presence here is most intriguing."
"My presence can easily be explained as an assignment." How he hated referring to his bondage. True he could accept it as it was, but to have to explain the position to another annoyed him to no end.
"Is that so? It appears then that some of my previous predictions concerning you have come to pass. Particularly the choice between death and bondage." Sybil stirred the pot as though searching for some image from the past. She had hit the mark with that prediction. But Irvan had never given much credit to her task. Imprecise was hardly an accurate description. "Since you are standing here, it means you have chosen bondage. To whom?" Irvan stood stock still, watching the seer as she stared vacantly in to the steam. He was going to have to tell her, he realized. That much was certain. But he certainly did not want to. "I've never known Albus Dumbledore to befriend vampires and he is most definitely not a dark wizard."
"So you do remember your own words," he responded disdainfully, sinking into himself with remembering, as much to stall answering her true question as to release his annoyance at her catching him unaware. He hated slayers and hunters, as all vampires should. But unlike all vampires, he survived his encounters. No thanks to his control of the situation. He had somehow been marked well before he met Sybil. A mark he couldn't see, nor understand, but hunters have just refused to slay him. Slayers knew he wasn't to be touched, but none bothered to explain. They just packed up and left after meeting him. His luck would eventually run out, that he could be certain of.
"Sit down," she ordered in her mystical air. It didn't affect him in any way, and he suspect she kept it just to she wouldn't confuse one place with another. "Tea?"
"No, thank you."
"But we haven't seen each other in over thirty years. I thought we could catch up." Sybil sounded as though the statement was true.
"I would rather not have my future read," he said when Sybil didn't remove the proffered cup.
Sybil looked past the tea to Irvan's face to judge his reaction. "Really? It can be most enlightening."
"No doubt." He remained neutral.
"Then at least sit down, Irvan. I can't imagine it is very comfortable having a conversation while standing." Irvan did as he was bid and sat across from Trelawney. The sooner he did so the sooner he could leave.
"You've changed your name," he commented, trying to keep the line of conversation away from his situation as much as possible.
"Yes, women tend to do that when they get married." A distance appeared in her eyes.
Irvan had not known that. "And your husband?"
"Dead. Not that it would matter much to you, but he was killed while at a friend's house. His friend was married to a Muggle. You-Know-Who's Death Eaters showed up and murdered everyone in the house."
"I am sorry to hear that." What was more was he meant it. "It is difficult to lose a loved one to maniacs."
"How come I get the impression you are referring to my family as well as the Death Eaters?" Sybil's mystical tone harden with this statement, clueing Irvan to the fact that she knew exactly what he was referring to.
"Perhaps it is because I am. Killing my sister and father was not the wisest thing your father did in his life."
"Perhaps. But you and your mother came and took revenge."
"What would you have expected us to do? Sit around quietly and forget the entire incident." Irvan attempted to keep his hostility out of the conversation. It was difficult when talking about personal matters. He did not condone murder, but losing loved ones without a verifiable reason bothered him greatly.
"No, but killing my father did nothing."
"It certainly made my mother feel satisfied."
"That was because she drained him."
Irvan shrugged in response. He didn't particularly care one way or the other who had been killed by whom. He had loved his sister dearly, but he was not about to kill her murderer. His mother had disagreed. Because of that she had hunted down the Slayer and killed him out of spite. She had not gained much in the way of nutrition, having been at the peak of her performance in order to commit the deed. The Slayer's death had not benefited him in anyway. Irvan also knew that if another vampire had murdered his family, his mother would have down nothing in retaliation.
"If I recall correctly, you just stood there and watched."
"You expected me to help? "He raised an eyebrow.
"Your mother at least."
"She is quite capable of killing for herself. Perhaps better than me. Though I admit I was confused as to why the rest of your family didn't attempt to kill either of us."
"We told you that already."
"Yes, I know about that stupid mark you hunters always mention. But that doesn't explain anything."
"It should. You are marked to do something important and slayers are not to interfere with whatever that is."
"That event has not happened in two thousand years. And I never thought hunters put much thought into superstition and prophecy."
"They put in much more thought than the average wizard. Haven't you noticed that the best seers come from exceptional slayer families?"
"I haven't really taken the time to study," Irvan replied sulkily.
"You are suppose to do something important and I want to know what. I'm thinking it began with the first vision I had for you. The one about you choosing between life or death at the hands of a dark wizard. It might be more clear if you tell me who you are bound to."
The witch was more persistent than he remembered. For some reason he had thought the woman had forgotten about that line of thought. "Fine," he conceded, "Severus." Somehow a cup of tea found its way to his hand and further to his lips. Tea was not his favorite drink, but anything would do to keep his mind off this conversation.
"Severus Snape? That explains the fuzzy connection between him and Harry Potter. I had thought it was because Severus was a Death Eater and connected to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which is connect to Harry. But you are much more reasonable."
"I'm glad you think so," he sneered.
"This also explains Harry's tea reading."
"He was making it all up," Irvan thought it prudent to inform her.
"Nonsense. You don't make up readings. You merely think you are if you are not trained. Harry doesn't realize his unconscious is providing him with his readings. So that means the seven legged spider is you. I must have been wrong. You're not desperate as I first thought. You have lost a lot of your control."
"Thank you for that assessment of the situation."
"Now about the barrier."
"What about the barrier?"
"I am certain you heard me mention that the spider was connect to the barrier."
"Yes, but I fail to see how this should concern me."
"Simple. If the spider is connected to the barrier separating Harry from the Grim, you are the spider and must be doing something beneficial. What are you doing?" she inquired.
"Keeping the boy alive," he stated simply.
"As I said, beneficial. Does he know you are doing this?"
"Yes, he knows, but he does not know I'm the same as Evan. Nor will you tell him."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Though I am curious about how you are keeping him alive."
"Those visions he has of Voldemort," he paused slightly when he saw the witch flinch. Severus flinched sometimes when he mentioned the name. And in all his dealings with Severus, Irvan had never heard the man refer to the Dark Wizard by that name. Not unless Lord preceded it. So it appeared more people than Severus was afraid to say the name. "Those visions he has," he amended, "were killing him, though I have no understanding as to why or how."
"Then they must not be true visions."
"Then tell me what true visions are."
"When a seer has visions, it is like casting a net and hoping to catch something relevant, if you can catch anything at all. A good seer knows when and how to cast the net to get the best results. Visions are random glimpses of the future, past or present. Not usually the past. Present and future are most common."
"You are saying visions are random occurrences. So what Harry is experiencing are not visions."
"Precisely."
"Then what are they?"
"What do you know about them?"
"So you think you might know what to classify them as?"
"Why not. It appears you already know how to keep them from harming Harry. Why not attempt to rid Harry of these so called visions entirely."
"That would certainly be less exhausting for me in any case." Irvan settled a little in the chair he had chosen.
"I didn't think vampires got exhausted."
"Physically, it is very hard. Mentally, it is easier. And for most of vampires, what I am doing would be a physical impossibility. The others have not learned how to control their minds."
"Interesting. You will have to tell me more about that once this is all through. But for now, what can you tell me about Harry's visions?"
"He pretty much just watches whatever You-Know-Who is doing at the moment, which is never very pleasant." He might as well attempt to make the conversation bearable, having Sybil flinch every time he said Voldemort was become annoying. "And as I have noticed, the visions are usually accompanied by strong emotions on You-Know-Who's part." Replacing the name would also grate his nerves if he ad to continue much longer.
"So Harry watches as though he was there and not through You-Know-Who's eyes."
"Right."
"That right there is like a normal vision. But didn't you say they were killing him?"
"I did. The only thing I could surmise is that, because Harry is able to feel the pain of the victims, his body is shutting down as a defense against the intrusion. But what puzzles me, is the feel of energy being drawn out of Harry's body. I know visions take energy to view, but that doesn't account for energy to be pulled from the source."
"Quite. With visions, energy is depleted, but I have never met a seer who complained that something pulled it from her. You think You-Know-Who is behind it."
"I have my suspicions."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"I have voiced them to Severus. But I had not planned on having this conversation, much less seeing you again."
"You don't enjoy our conversations?"
"No. It is rather uncomfortable to sit in the same room as a hunter."
"I am not a slayer. I never planned to become one. Though your mother cut that option severely short."
"Still you had training for the better part of fifteen years."
"Sixteen."
"Forgive me. It was never good at estimating age," he said bitterly.
"You'll never forget that incident."
"Of course not. It's not like we ever did anything to you. You're just one more on a list of creatures created to kill us."
"We are not creatures."
"Oh? Then what are you?"
"Human beings. Which is more than you can say."
"Like I would want to. Look what they did to the vampire population. The turned ones feel it is necessary to take out all their frustration on their old race. If it weren't for the Turned, your family would be out of a job." Out of a job only because there wouldn't be any vampires left considering the number of slaying families and their tendency to have numerous children.
"Perhaps."
Irvan ground his teeth in frustration. He hated dealing with hunters. Just as bad as werewolves. All they wanted was to kill vampires. "Do you know anything that might help Harry's situation?"
Sybil looked just as miffed, even though she hid it better behind her mysterious aura. "It seems Harry is connect to You-Know-Who like a fish on a hook to the fishing rod."
"I absolutely love your analogies," he sneered.
"They work," she defended. "I suppose if that is how it works, then there must be some way to snap the line. I'm sure you'll be kind enough to keep me informed of any progress. And I would like to know exactly how you are keeping the visions at bay, but that will have to wait for another time. I have a class coming up shortly." Irvan nodded his assent, if only to leave this blasted tower, and set his empty cup on the table and made to leave. Sybil, making no move to lower the charms keeping him in the room, had picked up his cup and was studying the dregs. Lucky him. Not only did he get to have his past picked apart, but also he got to have his future read by an amateur. "This is unusual. I don't think I have ever seen a tree associated with vampires before."
"A tree?" Why did he have to ask that aloud? He actually sounded surprised.
Sybil wasn't really listening to him anyway. "Trees that appear in readings are either the Tree of Life or the Tree of Knowledge, though I don't know how to determine which is which. Well, it appears you are going to have something beneficial happen soon."
"Not if that is truly a tree."
"Why would that be?"
"Have you forgotten your most basic training? Trees and vampires don't mix. Much less the Trees of Life and Knowledge. If I knew why, I'd tell you. Now can I leave?" He hated asking permission. Sybil waved her wand and Irvan was free to descend the latter. Finally.
He hated Sybil.
He hated slayers.
He hated Voldemort.
He was beginning to hate Severus.
But he really hated werewolves.
And he was facing one down as he thought.
Damn. Things could not go any worse for him.
He had thought his life couldn't get more cursed and then he tasted unicorn blood. That just escalated the problem. He might as well add, he hated his life, or what was left of it.
"And what are you doing here?" Lupin growled.
"Coming down from a disturbing conversation with Sybil," Irvan growled in return. He did not want to have this conversation. "But you are probably referring to my general presence at Hogwarts. As to that, I am doing exactly what I promised: Keeping an eye on Harry."
"Are you now? Let's talk somewhere a little more private," the werewolf mention, keying Irvan to the fact that they were in a hallway where children would eventually come. Irvan became suddenly aware of his fangs. 'Think Irvan. Surely that little chat with Sybil hasn't unnerved you to the point of forgetting no one is suppose to know you are here. Be thankful it was someone who already knew that found you.'
Lupin moved down the hall and Irvan was obligated to follow. Why? Because he was the idiot who was not watching were he was going and got caught. Because the consequences of refusing were far more terrifying than those of obeying. Because he lost the will that would have allowed him to refuse.
Damn Sybil. More right than she could ever know. Seven legs was right. Damn Severus. He was the missing eighth. Rather Irvan was an extension of Severus and therefore loosing part of himself in the process. It was all a viscous cycle that caught him in the undesired center.
Chapter 12
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Irvan transformed from his animangus shape, thankful Sybil was generous enough to wait until everyone had left the room. He was still annoyed at her placement of the wards. He really would have left had those not been in place. He did wonder how there could be wards to keep certain creatures in and let others out; he wondered but had no desire to learn.
Irvan neglected to give common courtesy to the Divinations' Professor and stood waiting for the conversation to begin. If anything he would listen then leave, but that was only if Sybil was not in a talkative mood. He was certain Harry would have found this situation interesting. Surely the boy did not think Trelawney was anything more than a fraud Divinations' professor.
"So, Irvan, what are you doing here?" she question, putting a fresh pot of tea on to heat. From that gesture, Irvan concluded that he would be spending more time in this attic than he deemed necessary. "The last time we met, I got the impression you were hiding from some people. Your presence here is most intriguing."
"My presence can easily be explained as an assignment." How he hated referring to his bondage. True he could accept it as it was, but to have to explain the position to another annoyed him to no end.
"Is that so? It appears then that some of my previous predictions concerning you have come to pass. Particularly the choice between death and bondage." Sybil stirred the pot as though searching for some image from the past. She had hit the mark with that prediction. But Irvan had never given much credit to her task. Imprecise was hardly an accurate description. "Since you are standing here, it means you have chosen bondage. To whom?" Irvan stood stock still, watching the seer as she stared vacantly in to the steam. He was going to have to tell her, he realized. That much was certain. But he certainly did not want to. "I've never known Albus Dumbledore to befriend vampires and he is most definitely not a dark wizard."
"So you do remember your own words," he responded disdainfully, sinking into himself with remembering, as much to stall answering her true question as to release his annoyance at her catching him unaware. He hated slayers and hunters, as all vampires should. But unlike all vampires, he survived his encounters. No thanks to his control of the situation. He had somehow been marked well before he met Sybil. A mark he couldn't see, nor understand, but hunters have just refused to slay him. Slayers knew he wasn't to be touched, but none bothered to explain. They just packed up and left after meeting him. His luck would eventually run out, that he could be certain of.
"Sit down," she ordered in her mystical air. It didn't affect him in any way, and he suspect she kept it just to she wouldn't confuse one place with another. "Tea?"
"No, thank you."
"But we haven't seen each other in over thirty years. I thought we could catch up." Sybil sounded as though the statement was true.
"I would rather not have my future read," he said when Sybil didn't remove the proffered cup.
Sybil looked past the tea to Irvan's face to judge his reaction. "Really? It can be most enlightening."
"No doubt." He remained neutral.
"Then at least sit down, Irvan. I can't imagine it is very comfortable having a conversation while standing." Irvan did as he was bid and sat across from Trelawney. The sooner he did so the sooner he could leave.
"You've changed your name," he commented, trying to keep the line of conversation away from his situation as much as possible.
"Yes, women tend to do that when they get married." A distance appeared in her eyes.
Irvan had not known that. "And your husband?"
"Dead. Not that it would matter much to you, but he was killed while at a friend's house. His friend was married to a Muggle. You-Know-Who's Death Eaters showed up and murdered everyone in the house."
"I am sorry to hear that." What was more was he meant it. "It is difficult to lose a loved one to maniacs."
"How come I get the impression you are referring to my family as well as the Death Eaters?" Sybil's mystical tone harden with this statement, clueing Irvan to the fact that she knew exactly what he was referring to.
"Perhaps it is because I am. Killing my sister and father was not the wisest thing your father did in his life."
"Perhaps. But you and your mother came and took revenge."
"What would you have expected us to do? Sit around quietly and forget the entire incident." Irvan attempted to keep his hostility out of the conversation. It was difficult when talking about personal matters. He did not condone murder, but losing loved ones without a verifiable reason bothered him greatly.
"No, but killing my father did nothing."
"It certainly made my mother feel satisfied."
"That was because she drained him."
Irvan shrugged in response. He didn't particularly care one way or the other who had been killed by whom. He had loved his sister dearly, but he was not about to kill her murderer. His mother had disagreed. Because of that she had hunted down the Slayer and killed him out of spite. She had not gained much in the way of nutrition, having been at the peak of her performance in order to commit the deed. The Slayer's death had not benefited him in anyway. Irvan also knew that if another vampire had murdered his family, his mother would have down nothing in retaliation.
"If I recall correctly, you just stood there and watched."
"You expected me to help? "He raised an eyebrow.
"Your mother at least."
"She is quite capable of killing for herself. Perhaps better than me. Though I admit I was confused as to why the rest of your family didn't attempt to kill either of us."
"We told you that already."
"Yes, I know about that stupid mark you hunters always mention. But that doesn't explain anything."
"It should. You are marked to do something important and slayers are not to interfere with whatever that is."
"That event has not happened in two thousand years. And I never thought hunters put much thought into superstition and prophecy."
"They put in much more thought than the average wizard. Haven't you noticed that the best seers come from exceptional slayer families?"
"I haven't really taken the time to study," Irvan replied sulkily.
"You are suppose to do something important and I want to know what. I'm thinking it began with the first vision I had for you. The one about you choosing between life or death at the hands of a dark wizard. It might be more clear if you tell me who you are bound to."
The witch was more persistent than he remembered. For some reason he had thought the woman had forgotten about that line of thought. "Fine," he conceded, "Severus." Somehow a cup of tea found its way to his hand and further to his lips. Tea was not his favorite drink, but anything would do to keep his mind off this conversation.
"Severus Snape? That explains the fuzzy connection between him and Harry Potter. I had thought it was because Severus was a Death Eater and connected to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which is connect to Harry. But you are much more reasonable."
"I'm glad you think so," he sneered.
"This also explains Harry's tea reading."
"He was making it all up," Irvan thought it prudent to inform her.
"Nonsense. You don't make up readings. You merely think you are if you are not trained. Harry doesn't realize his unconscious is providing him with his readings. So that means the seven legged spider is you. I must have been wrong. You're not desperate as I first thought. You have lost a lot of your control."
"Thank you for that assessment of the situation."
"Now about the barrier."
"What about the barrier?"
"I am certain you heard me mention that the spider was connect to the barrier."
"Yes, but I fail to see how this should concern me."
"Simple. If the spider is connected to the barrier separating Harry from the Grim, you are the spider and must be doing something beneficial. What are you doing?" she inquired.
"Keeping the boy alive," he stated simply.
"As I said, beneficial. Does he know you are doing this?"
"Yes, he knows, but he does not know I'm the same as Evan. Nor will you tell him."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Though I am curious about how you are keeping him alive."
"Those visions he has of Voldemort," he paused slightly when he saw the witch flinch. Severus flinched sometimes when he mentioned the name. And in all his dealings with Severus, Irvan had never heard the man refer to the Dark Wizard by that name. Not unless Lord preceded it. So it appeared more people than Severus was afraid to say the name. "Those visions he has," he amended, "were killing him, though I have no understanding as to why or how."
"Then they must not be true visions."
"Then tell me what true visions are."
"When a seer has visions, it is like casting a net and hoping to catch something relevant, if you can catch anything at all. A good seer knows when and how to cast the net to get the best results. Visions are random glimpses of the future, past or present. Not usually the past. Present and future are most common."
"You are saying visions are random occurrences. So what Harry is experiencing are not visions."
"Precisely."
"Then what are they?"
"What do you know about them?"
"So you think you might know what to classify them as?"
"Why not. It appears you already know how to keep them from harming Harry. Why not attempt to rid Harry of these so called visions entirely."
"That would certainly be less exhausting for me in any case." Irvan settled a little in the chair he had chosen.
"I didn't think vampires got exhausted."
"Physically, it is very hard. Mentally, it is easier. And for most of vampires, what I am doing would be a physical impossibility. The others have not learned how to control their minds."
"Interesting. You will have to tell me more about that once this is all through. But for now, what can you tell me about Harry's visions?"
"He pretty much just watches whatever You-Know-Who is doing at the moment, which is never very pleasant." He might as well attempt to make the conversation bearable, having Sybil flinch every time he said Voldemort was become annoying. "And as I have noticed, the visions are usually accompanied by strong emotions on You-Know-Who's part." Replacing the name would also grate his nerves if he ad to continue much longer.
"So Harry watches as though he was there and not through You-Know-Who's eyes."
"Right."
"That right there is like a normal vision. But didn't you say they were killing him?"
"I did. The only thing I could surmise is that, because Harry is able to feel the pain of the victims, his body is shutting down as a defense against the intrusion. But what puzzles me, is the feel of energy being drawn out of Harry's body. I know visions take energy to view, but that doesn't account for energy to be pulled from the source."
"Quite. With visions, energy is depleted, but I have never met a seer who complained that something pulled it from her. You think You-Know-Who is behind it."
"I have my suspicions."
"Have you told anyone else?"
"I have voiced them to Severus. But I had not planned on having this conversation, much less seeing you again."
"You don't enjoy our conversations?"
"No. It is rather uncomfortable to sit in the same room as a hunter."
"I am not a slayer. I never planned to become one. Though your mother cut that option severely short."
"Still you had training for the better part of fifteen years."
"Sixteen."
"Forgive me. It was never good at estimating age," he said bitterly.
"You'll never forget that incident."
"Of course not. It's not like we ever did anything to you. You're just one more on a list of creatures created to kill us."
"We are not creatures."
"Oh? Then what are you?"
"Human beings. Which is more than you can say."
"Like I would want to. Look what they did to the vampire population. The turned ones feel it is necessary to take out all their frustration on their old race. If it weren't for the Turned, your family would be out of a job." Out of a job only because there wouldn't be any vampires left considering the number of slaying families and their tendency to have numerous children.
"Perhaps."
Irvan ground his teeth in frustration. He hated dealing with hunters. Just as bad as werewolves. All they wanted was to kill vampires. "Do you know anything that might help Harry's situation?"
Sybil looked just as miffed, even though she hid it better behind her mysterious aura. "It seems Harry is connect to You-Know-Who like a fish on a hook to the fishing rod."
"I absolutely love your analogies," he sneered.
"They work," she defended. "I suppose if that is how it works, then there must be some way to snap the line. I'm sure you'll be kind enough to keep me informed of any progress. And I would like to know exactly how you are keeping the visions at bay, but that will have to wait for another time. I have a class coming up shortly." Irvan nodded his assent, if only to leave this blasted tower, and set his empty cup on the table and made to leave. Sybil, making no move to lower the charms keeping him in the room, had picked up his cup and was studying the dregs. Lucky him. Not only did he get to have his past picked apart, but also he got to have his future read by an amateur. "This is unusual. I don't think I have ever seen a tree associated with vampires before."
"A tree?" Why did he have to ask that aloud? He actually sounded surprised.
Sybil wasn't really listening to him anyway. "Trees that appear in readings are either the Tree of Life or the Tree of Knowledge, though I don't know how to determine which is which. Well, it appears you are going to have something beneficial happen soon."
"Not if that is truly a tree."
"Why would that be?"
"Have you forgotten your most basic training? Trees and vampires don't mix. Much less the Trees of Life and Knowledge. If I knew why, I'd tell you. Now can I leave?" He hated asking permission. Sybil waved her wand and Irvan was free to descend the latter. Finally.
He hated Sybil.
He hated slayers.
He hated Voldemort.
He was beginning to hate Severus.
But he really hated werewolves.
And he was facing one down as he thought.
Damn. Things could not go any worse for him.
He had thought his life couldn't get more cursed and then he tasted unicorn blood. That just escalated the problem. He might as well add, he hated his life, or what was left of it.
"And what are you doing here?" Lupin growled.
"Coming down from a disturbing conversation with Sybil," Irvan growled in return. He did not want to have this conversation. "But you are probably referring to my general presence at Hogwarts. As to that, I am doing exactly what I promised: Keeping an eye on Harry."
"Are you now? Let's talk somewhere a little more private," the werewolf mention, keying Irvan to the fact that they were in a hallway where children would eventually come. Irvan became suddenly aware of his fangs. 'Think Irvan. Surely that little chat with Sybil hasn't unnerved you to the point of forgetting no one is suppose to know you are here. Be thankful it was someone who already knew that found you.'
Lupin moved down the hall and Irvan was obligated to follow. Why? Because he was the idiot who was not watching were he was going and got caught. Because the consequences of refusing were far more terrifying than those of obeying. Because he lost the will that would have allowed him to refuse.
Damn Sybil. More right than she could ever know. Seven legs was right. Damn Severus. He was the missing eighth. Rather Irvan was an extension of Severus and therefore loosing part of himself in the process. It was all a viscous cycle that caught him in the undesired center.