Transgressions
The end of Quirrell's first session with Voldemort in the Albanian Forest.
Will you try it now yourself? His words were a gentle coaxing, sultry as a summer wind.
The suggestion shocked me out of my pleasurable daze of contemplation. What? I...no, I...
Surely performing it will be more informative than any mere description or observed demonstration.
Too true. I licked my lips, something very akin to lust darting through me at the possibility. But I can't do such a thing...
Can't you? Indulgent laughter ran underneath my skin like warm silk. With my help, you can do anything you like. The question is will you?
Temptation hung like a wild, sweet fruit in front of me. God, to execute that spell, so very reviled for its potency...I couldn't deny that I wanted to know exactly what that was like.
But what would I cast it on? What would die so that I might know this thing?
That rabbit will do. You see it behind the brush there, trembling.
A pang of conscience surfaced. But why should it die for me?
Consider the larger picture, Quirinus. Cool fingers of reason stroked the line of my thoughts. Nagini is hungry, so it will die anyway. It will suffer terror before its death if you don't cast the curse.
Dribbles of consideration rolled down my mind. Well, if it was going to die anyway, surely this way its death would be more useful...
That's right, scoffed a small voice that sounded rather like my favorite grandmother at her most disapproving, rationalize it away. You've had a lot of practice at that lately, haven't you?
A soothing wave of tranquility washed over me, dulling the pricks of guilt. Come now, Quirinus - let me help you become the merciful angel of death.
The image, of course, appealed immensely to me. I felt my scruples dissolving in the wake of that tantalizing possibility.
Say it, then.
I knew the ritual by now, and didn't hesitate, ignoring the sense of spiritual soil. Help me cast the Avada Kedavra. Please. My lord. The title was a tacked-on afterthought, but it seemed fitting from a supplicant. I had no illusions there.
Approval flicked like a serpent's tongue. My pleasure, Quirinus. You must have the proper state of mind for it to work, of course. His words were velvet-soft. Allow me to guide you.
I nodded, hot anticipation buzzing through me now that the decision had been made.
There was a surge of malice and disdain, and an utter surety alien to my nature, glistening with the sheen of righteous anger.
And then it blossomed from my fingertips, jagged fractal curls of that particular shade of green darting like zephyrs to hit the hapless rabbit. The scents were just as he had described - a subtle sweetness of crystallized honey with notes of saffron and green tea and the sharp tang of salt, mixed with a certain metallic aroma, a wintry bite like strong peppermint. It smelled undeniably good to me. Incisive and unrepentant.
But that was nothing to the death moment.
I saw the twining curve of the curse enter the rabbit's body - a golden dragon fractal curve, in fact. (With dimension phi, the golden ratio, my muggle mathematical training supplied. Perhaps that explained the elegant efficiency of its execution.) The spell construct stretched within, a neverending curvelet entering every cell, filling it so very full of the most brilliant not-light (the fire of hell obeys the golden ratio - who knew?) before being swallowed into nothing. The energy core of every single cell was consumed utterly in that instant.
Breath-taking. The construct had been a work of diabolical art, without any flaw that I could see. There could be no recovery, no undoing. Perhaps a shield, some inversion that fit that fractal shape like a ying yang...but that would take more observation to uncover. Could I perform the curse again? It would have been a curiously painless experience for the victim most likely, as the soul was freed from its physical fetters all at once.
Angel of mercy, indeed.
The feeling of absolute power I had wielded overwhelmed me for a moment. It had been the literal power of life and death (who shall live and who shall die, who by blessing and who by curse), and its afterglow seemed to build rather than recede, a growing maelstrom inside me. My breath came faster, the sight seared in my mind's eye, the scent riding my nostrils. My fingers began to flex, to stretch and retract, stretch and retract, a burning cold filling my core with an unholy pleasure.
Surely this was the path to hell.
Rich laughter buffeted me, cold as the ocean deeps. And are you enjoying it?
God help me, I was.
Do you wish more? To know more, to see more...to be more?
His snake - Nagini - twined around my feet as I swayed slightly. The chill power was coiled inside me now - I could feel it, moving in time with Nagini's long body around me. Stretch and retract, stretch and retract. God help me...yes.
As you wish.
My senses were overloaded in a bursting cascade of pleasure, ribbons of sensation rippling again and again in a curiously intensifying cycle that threatened consciousness.
Rest now, Quirinushko. All the world will be ours when you awake.
I wondered idly if the cycling power inside me obeyed the golden ratio too, before I was overtaken by a blackness as deep and encompassing as the heart of winter.