The Good Son

Chapter Nine

A Group with a Name

The black flames flickered in his palm, dancing and crackling with a malign wrath, the tips a deep purple, pure bonefyre, which burned darker and more powerful than its more common counterpart fiendfyre; brimmed forebodingly in his grasp.

He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his dormitory empty as it always was at this time of the week. Xavier and Delphin both had Care of Magical Creatures whilst Scorpius was in Divination; somehow the blonde boy had scraped an Acceptable during his OWL and been allowed to continue studying the irritating subject. It was his alone time, they only time when he could study the deeper arts on his own without interruption. He had been expressly forbidden from practising Dark Magic by Hermione when she had walked in on him last, he smirked at the memory, he had been attempting a summoning. He hadn't meant to, he had been determined to give up the dark practices but then . . . when he had went to return Bella's grimoire to the library at the Manor the book had fallen open to a page on shadows.

Oh and how it tempted him . . .

Shadows, spirits of the dead who were torn from their world by violence and murder, bitter in death as they had been in life, they made the perfect servants. Hermione had been horrified at what she had seen, she had made him swear to stay away from the subject . . . he had promised her, and then two weeks later he had found that he couldn't.

The need to feel the darkness had burned through his veins, filling him with a reckless zeal to discover the secrets of the forbidden and forgotten arts. He needed them, he needed the numbing sensation that only darkness could bring . . . it was a part of him, how could he leave it behind.

He was not addicted; he could stop at any time that he wished.

But he didn't want too, not now that he had true power. Power that had always been denied him, how often had he felt powerless beneath his father's clenched fists, how often had he been too weak to defend himself against the upper year Gryffindors in his youth. The darkness strengthened him; it made him powerful enough to protect himself and the people he loved.

He could feel the shadows, those that he had summoned and paid for with his blood, bound to his heart by ancient magic. He had suppressed them, his sheer will alone binding them to his beating heart to keep them captive. They were fickle phantasms, creatures with a will of their own – he had found that out to late, but it didn't matter . . . he was stronger than them. He could host them, all of them that he had summoned in his early ignorance, he was sure of it.

He was stronger now than he had been during his sixth year when first he had begun to truly descend into the dark arts. He remembered what had sprung the need to feel powerful, the desire to be strong. It had been Rose, her eyes teary as she clutched her hand to her chest, just as Cass once had. A blood quill. She was a Ravenclaw, she should have been safe but she hadn't – not when prejudice was so strong in their world.

It was what had given him the will to become powerful, the will to be strong enough to make a change in the world. He had seen it, over and over again, the suffering and the pain that his friends and loved ones had suffered at the hands of bigoted individuals such as his father. Now he was in his seventh year, awaiting his NEWTs . . . he would pass with distinction – as he always had.

He would use the darkness to do so.

It wasn't just him who practised, he had discovered, quite by accident, that Xavier and Delphin both wove dark spells themselves. They studied deeply and both were highly skilled at casting dark curses at those they deemed foes, but neither was as advanced as Al. Neither had let the darkness in, the primordial energy that was ancestral and older than the mountains themselves.

"What are you doing?" asked Cass, walking into the dorm, a tired expression on her face, she was taking twelve subjects to NEWT level, having passed her OWLs with all Outstandings, and the strain of having to study for so much was beginning to show in her appearance. She was always tired these days but Albus found that it only heightened her beauty, when her body reflected how strong her mind was.

Cursing he clenched his fists, snuffing out the flames in an instant and feeling them kiss his skin in a soft explosion of ferocity as they were unceremoniously waned. He winced at the pain, before the soothing sensation of healing overtook his burned hands and purified them of all hurt. The darkness protected its own, just as he did.

"Nothing," he whispered as she perched on his bed beside him, forcing a smile to his face as the waves of exhaustion washed over his body; his energy levels were low, his heart beating slightly sluggishly as his magic exacted its price.

"Bonefyre huh?" she smirked, surprising him with her nonchalance.

"You know?" he asked warily, he loved her but hoped she wouldn't make him try to stop.

"That you're practising the dark arts?" she said with a raised eyebrow, "Yes."

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling oddly sorrowful that he had disappointed her.

"Don't be," she whispered, in a voice as low as his, moving so that she sat cross legged before him before moving to cup his own palms with hers. He tensed, his eyes widening as the purplish flames began to reappear, reflected in her silver gaze.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of it," she murmured reverently, "Dad and Scor practice as well . . . Mum too," she added as an afterthought, thinking of Astoria.

"They do?" he asked curiously, adding his own energy to hers as the fire hissed angrily in their hands.

"Yes," she said, "But none of us have gone as far as you have," she said sternly.

"Why not?" he answered evenly, "It feels so good, do you know how we could use this power. We could better ourselves. We wouldn't have to cower anymore."

"We could," she said, "But darkness always extols a price."

"I'll pay any price to make a change Cassie," he said, "We don't deserve being treated like scum by the rest of the world."

They paused suddenly, the dark fire shooting up in a pirouette of flame and scorching the roof of his four poster head. Within him, he felt the shadows he had bound within him respond to his words in a manner he never thought they would – in that moment he felt they were both connected to the Primordial Darkness, the ancient nameless entity that existed in the timeless void alongside the primordial light. Cassiopeia gasped, breaking the spell as she grabbed her wrist at the same moment that Albus grabbed his, biting his lip at the scorching pain which flowed across his skin.

Slowly he looked down in horror, his eyes widening as did hers, for tattooed across their wrists was a serpent coiled around a dagger, its fangs drawn and dripping venom.

The Mark of an Outcast. . .

(*)(*)(*)

"Ow!" scowled Xavier as the bowtruckle he and Delphin were working with stabbed his thumb with its twig like finger, deep enough to draw blood. He glared murderously at the tiny creature as his friend chuckled beside him, "I'm going to use you as kindling!" snapped Xavier, as the bowtruckle seemed to look at him with amusement in its beady little eyes.

Care of Magical Creatures had entailed a great many irritations for Xavier from the moment he had first started the class, the incident with the skittish unicorn and Susanne Boot had been but the first of many. Over the years he had been burned by a firecrab, kicked by a Pegasus, bitten by a particularly spiteful doxy, slashed across the chest by a rampaging Hippogriff named Witherwings, spat on by a niffler, nearly killed by a murderous centaur and most recently, attacked by a rambunctious manticore which Hagrid had somehow procured. The only reason he was taking the class was because seventh years were required a minimum of five classes and he absolutely hated taking The Mind Arts. He was about as cut out for legilimency and occlumency as he was for plaiting a unicorn's tail whilst wearing a pink sundress and singing Celestina Warbeck.

"You scared the little guy," pointed out Delphin as their bowtruckle leapt of the table and took off for the Forbidden Forest.

"I hope an acromantula eats him," said Xavier acidly, sucking on his bleeding thumb.

Delphin on the other hand had a real talent for working with magical creatures, his life's ambition was to own a pet dragon. He and Hagrid would have gotten along famously had it not been for the half-giants disdainful attitude for anything Slytherin. Needless to say, Delphin had already secured an internship with famed naturalist Luna Scamander and with be working with her as soon as he finished Hogwarts.

"You and Rose still sneaking around then?" asked Xavier, calming down a little as the bleeding stopped and realising he had nothing to do now that his subject had run off, he decided to ask his friend about the subject that had been on his mind for the last few weeks.

"Are you mental? Rose and I?" spluttered Delphin in indignation, before gulping at the sight of his friends raised eyebrow, "How did you know?" he sighed in resignation.

"Please, do you really think I'm as oblivious as the Al and Scor?" asked Xavier with a wry grin. This time it was Delphins turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Fine," said Xavier, "Kat told me."

"Kat knows?" asked Delphin worriedly; really this was getting out of hand. He and Rose had agreed to keep their relationship a secret till they graduated Hogwarts.

"Yup, she saw you two snogging under the Quidditch stands at the last game," replied Xavier.

"But I cast a disillusionment charm on the two of us," protested Delphin, "She couldn't have seen."

"Del, you have trouble casting a bloody levitation charm," smirked Xavier, it was true; his friend was the only Outcast to have gotten a Troll in his Charms OWL.

"Can you keep it quiet Xav?" asked Delphin in a pleading tone, "The sneaking around is so much kinkier." Xavier just rolled his eyes at his friend, sometimes Delphin worried him.

"Ok, just don't shag in my bed," he said with a grin, there was no denying that Kat and Xavier had taken it upon themselves to christen every surface in both their dorms.

"Why not?" cried Del in outrage, he had been hoping to get back at his friend for leaving his and Kat's underwear on his bedpost, "I'm sure Al and Cassie are . . ."

"You would think so but no," grinned Xavier, "Not that our Al isn't planning on changing that."

"How would you know?"

"He came to me for advice the other day."

"Why would he come to you?" declared Delphin pompously, "Scor and I are the experts on all things sexual."

"Yes," responded Xavier dryly, "But Scor is Cassiopeia's brother and frankly your preferences scare us."

"But chains and whips excite me . . . OW!"

He doubled over, grimacing in pain as he clutched his wrist, groaning at the burning sensation spreading across his skin. There was a muted yelp as Xavier clutched the table for support, his skin blanching white as he bit his lip to keep from crying out.

Drawing back his sleeve, Delphin's eyes widened in alarm . . . etched upon his skin was an inky serpent coiled around a blade. One look at Xavier was all it took to realise his friend had the same symbol tattooed across his flesh.

(*)(*)(*)

"Rosie," declared Scorpius in his usual exuberant manner as he left the Divination classroom, "What brings you to this part of the castle." He thoroughly enjoyed Divination, it was his easiest class. All he had to do was come up with a few imaginative stories and prophecies which ended in tragedy and he received top marks in the subject. It was a very good outlet for his overactive imagination.

"The Tower of the Damned you mean?" scoffed Rose; she had inherited her mother's scepticism for Divination and rightly believed that Trelawney was an old fraud. Scorpius secretly agreed with her but he wasn't about to admit that as she was the one teacher in the school who doted on him, other than Slughorn of course.

"Nope, Gryffindor Tower is the other way," Scorpius shrugged, causing a group of Gryffindor girls in his year to fix him with a set of angry glares. Scorpius grinned as he turned to face the lead girl, Roxanne Weasley, who had just opened her mouth, no doubt to shoot him with a spiteful comment of some sort.

"I'd be quiet if I were you Foxy Roxy," said Scorpius with an evil glint in his eyes, "I know things about you that would make your mother curl up in a foetal position for days." Roxanne flushed furiously, before stalking of with her gaggle of friends.

"What dirt do you have on her," smirked Rose, falling into step beside him.

"I know what she likes in the sack," winked Scorpius, completely unabashed at discussing his very active sex life with his half sister, who just screwed up her nose in disgust.

"Really bro," she shook her head in mock disappointment, "Couldn't you do any better than Foxy Roxy?"

"You know I make it my mission to get one over on the Gryffindorks," sneered Scorpius, "How could I resist deflowering Seth Finnigan's girlfriend?"

"You're incorrigible," laughed Rose, she had no love for the Gryffindors, Seth in particular had hit her with a particularly nasty jinx in her third year that had caused her teeth to expand passed her chin.

"You love me anyway," chuckled Scorpius, before gasping and clutching his wrist. He stumbled backwards into the wall, his face creased with pain. Beside him Rose let out a low shriek, grabbing his arm for support as she felt something burn across her wrist.

(*)(*)(*)

Kat scribbled furiously, determined to complete the Arithmetic sequence that Professor Chang had put on the board before the rest of the class. She was an ace at arithmancy and had always had a head for numbers; this coupled with her skill in Defence Against the Dark Arts had her hoping for a career at Gringotts as a curse breaker. Beside her, her dorm-mate Isabella Goyle seemed completely clueless to the complex set of numbers before her – how she had made it to NEWT level was beyond Kat. The only type of numerical equation Isabella had ever been able to work out involved the bills her daddy had to pay after she had spent the entire summer shopping with her sisters.

"You should glamour your love-bites," said Isabella in a helpful tone once Kat finally finished the sum and handed it in to Professor Chang, receiving five points for her house.

"Why is that?" asked Kat curiously, truthfully when she had been younger she hadn't been able to stand her dorm mates Isabella and Elena but now after years of living together she could safely say that, despite the fact they would never be best friends, they were somewhat close. She usually just tied a scarf around her neck if Xavier had bitten her too deeply the night before but she had overslept this morning and been late.

"We have Herbology next," said Isabella, "You know students sleeping together are against the school rules, most of the teachers ignore it because it's going to happen whether they like it or not but you know Longbottom."

Kat cursed, her friend was right, Longbottom wouldn't hesitate to give her a session with his famous blood quill for breaking such a trivial rule, despite the fact that his own son Frank rarely slept alone these days. It was a fact that the entire castle was aware off, teachers included, but as Frank wasn't a Slytherin it would seem that most of the rules didn't apply to him.

"Thanks Bella," said Kat, focusing her wand on the hickey and weaving a temporary glamour over the mark to hide it for the next few hours.

"No problem," she responded, before turning to answer an irate Professor Chang about why her parchment was still blank.

Kat winced suddenly, her free hand beginning to burn over the wrist.

(*)(*)(*)

"Where'd you get these Hugo?" asked his friend, Alex Kreiss, a Slytherin in his year, as he took a long pull of the muggle cigarette his friend had just lit.

"Albus," grinned Hugo, "He has one pack but it's enchanted to never empty."

The group of Slytherin fifth years were lounging beside the Great Oak that stood sentinel near the Black Lake, basking in the sun as they studied for their upcoming OWLs.

"Anyone fancy a swim?" asked Damon, another of his dorm-mates who was built like a rock.

"I'm game," said Alex and Claire at the same time, readily getting to their feet and beginning to yank off their shoes. Hugo just grinned as he joined them, his blonde hair flashing in the sunlight as the three boys stripped down to their boxers before taking off at a run, causing three consecutively loud splashes. Claire grinned to herself, her dirty blonde hair streaming behind her as she joined the boys, clad in only her knickers and bra. She was as wild as the three boys she regularly hung out with – her mother had begun to despair of ever making a proper young lady out of her.

Alex smacked Hugo over the head as he noticed his friend staring at her perfectly executed swan dive, "Go after her mate," he said with a grin, before disappearing under water to avoid being splashed as Hugo – red faced at being caught staring – went after him.

The fifteen year old suddenly felt a pair of hands around his slender waist from behind as Damon grabbed him and pulled him under for a few seconds, eventually letting him go with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Oh it's so on," scowled Hugo, running his hand through his wet hair to get it out of his eyes before swimming after his bulky friend. Thus ensued a very loud water fight, much to the disgust of the Ravenclaws who were studying beside the lake. When they booed disapprovingly, Claire made sure to splash them, books and all.

Laughing the four friends walked out of the lake, dripping as they flopped down on the shore to dry of in the hot sun. Hugo flushed brightly when he felt Claire take his hand in her own and squeeze, he really did like her.

Then he forced himself to stifle a whimper as he felt a searing pain across his free hand.

(*)(*)(*)

Hermione yelped, flexing her wrist in pain as she watched the inky brand appear across it, her eyes filled with horror as the snake and dagger began to take shape. Draco groaned, clutching at his bedpost as he watched his own dark mark, the symbol of a death eater, begin to morph.

The skull seemed to drip, forming a molten streak as it solidified into a knife, the snake that once curled from within its maw slithered across his skin, scorching his flesh as it coiled around the newly formed dagger.

The mark of the Outcasts glared at the couple, bold and dark.

"It's Albus," sighed Hermione, she had been afraid something like this would happen but she hadn't expected herself or Draco to be branded, shaking her head as she sank onto the bed, "I can sense his magical signature in the brand."

"I can sense Cass," whispered Draco, "But why would we be marked?" It was a valid concern, when Voldemort had marked the original death eaters he had only marked the seven who had helped him summon the darkness . . . the rest of his followers had been branded individually as time went on – none had just received a mark out of the blue, especially when the supposed master of the mark was nowhere in the general vicinity.

The memory flitted across her mind's eye, a look of dawning horror forming across her face. Oh it was so painfully obvious, she would bet her life that everyone of the children who regularly spent their time at the Manor would have been marked as well. A group with a name, hadn't Draco said that he was worried about them. She should have listened to his concerns, she should have realised the children had descended into the dark arts further than they had admitted to her.

"Draco," said Hermione softly, putting her book down and leaning her head against his shoulder, "We're all Outcasts, neither of us can show our face in public without getting verbally assaulted too some extent." Draco sighed, knowing it was true but not liking the fact.

"We both admitted that we're Outcasts," she murmured softly.

(*)(*)(*)

"Professor Trelawney!" called Lily Luna Potter as she climbed into the Divination classroom. Professor Mcgonagall had sent her to find the divination professor as she had missed a very important staff meeting, Lily hadn't been very keen on being sent to the battiest professor in the school but she went nonetheless.

The past year had been difficult for her, her parent's divorce had been a bitter one; both of them had torn bloody chunks out of each other during the separation. Harry had been adamant that all Slytherins were evil and that he had been acting for the greater good; Ginny had been furious that he had treated their son in such an appalling and disgraceful manner. Rita Skeeter had had a field day; that not one – but two golden marriages had been sundered within five years of each other. Ginny and Lily now lived in suburban Manchester, whilst Harry and James both lived at Grimmauld Place. James was, if nothing else, blindly loyal to his father – but he had at least tried to rebuild bridges with Albus. It hadn't helped, the pair was as distant as ever, but Ginny counted her blessings that Albus still wanted her in his life and spent every other weekend at her house during the holidays. It would be a long time before the relationship between her mother and brother would be repaired, but Lily was certain that they were on their way there.

She found Sybil quickly enough; the thin woman was hunched over her crystal ball, no doubt lost in another useless prediction of some sort. Lily scoffed, this was the reason she hadn't taken the subject in the first place.

"It has begun!"

Lily recoiled; Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her chair, her voice magnified so that it sounded as though there were three of her speaking in unison, her eyes were unfocused, her mouth sagging.

"Professor?" she asked cautiously.

"And a new Dark Lord shall rise . . . shaped into his dark identity by that which he has lost . . . darker and more terrible than all those who have come before . . . dark but not evil . . . a paragon of the greater good . . . but he shall know a power that none who have reigned before him have known . . . he shall know how to love . . . and he shall rise . . . greater and more powerful . . . the entire world will quake before his name . . .the Forsaken One!"

Lily turned on her heels and fled.

(*)(*)(*)

A/N: Thoughts?