22. Lost in the Mysteries

He'd barely reached the bottom of the stairs when Stewart came into view. He was leaning against the banister and staring up at Alastor with a strange sort of expression on his face. He looked a bit worried, then upset, and even guarded all at once. Professor Morrigan swept past them into the sitting room.

"What the bloody hell was all that about?" His expression now one of cautious curiosity, his blue eyes searching Alastor's light green ones.

Alastor wondered how he could possibly explain what had happened, the gravity of the situation, and the decision it had brought about. For a moment he felt briefly like his brother, unable to speak of it all- not because he was cursed but because he lacked the eloquence to explain.

"It's really a long story," he sighed, feeling a bit shaky just thinking on it. "Suffice it to say Father's cursed him."

"Sorry?" Incredulity spread over Stewart's face. "Cursed him? How?"

A sudden shriek rent the air and nearly stopped his heart beating. It was Professor Ellerhone. The sound of her scream carried through the house for another moment before silence descended. Suddenly Belladonna, Percy, and Rremly hurried to join them.

"What in the faerying forest is going on?" Percy gasped, pale and clearly shaken.

"I expect that was Professor Ellerhone trying to lift the curse—"

"What curse?" Belladonna demanded, eyes flashing.

Alastor snapped before he could stop himself, "Father's cursed Aurelius with obedience!"

Either the others knew he hadn't meant to be so short with them or they didn't care. They didn't look upset, only worried and confused.

"Obedience? I don't understand—" Percy started to say just as Stewart cut him off.

"How can anyone be cursed with obedience?"

Sighing once again, Alastor told himself to try to explain as best he could. "Aurelius has to obey any order—any command—given him," he began. "It could be something simple like being told to go away or to eat this or that. It could be a silly directive or it could be something dangerous likebeing told to jump off a bridge or to kill someone or worse. He'd have to do it or else he suffers this awful pain- it's like he's being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse."

By the time he'd fallen silent both Stewart and Percy were gazing at him quite horrorstruck, Belladonna was furious, and Rremly looked sad and a million miles away- as if he were somewhere else and witnessing something truly painful. A moment later Holden appeared behind Rremly, winding his arm around him. He, too, looked pained.

Their behavior truly confused him. It was almost as though they knew something, but what that was, Alastor could hardly guess. He wanted to ask them what they knew, but that thought was driven away for the moment when he heard the door upstairs open and close. Professor Dumbledore appeared at the top of the stairs with Stephen at his side. They came down the stairs quickly, while never appearing to rush.

"Stephen, what was—"

"Later," said Stephen, sparing him a reassuring glance as he and Dumbledore moved past them to the front door. "We'll be back shortly with someone who might be able to help." With that, he and the Deputy Headmaster stepped outside, closing the door behind them. Alastor could hear the sound of their disapparition.

Before Alastor had the chance to sigh from the frustration of it all, Rremly took his hand and led him to into the parlor—where naturally the others followed them—and guided him to sit down. Rremly and Stewart seated themselves on either side of Alastor while Percy and Belladonna took the other settee. Holden remained standing, leaning against the archway with his eyes focused on the front door. Glancing between Rremly and Holden, seeing their carefully studied expressions, reminded him of what he'd wanted to ask.

"Why do I get the feeling you and Holden know something about this?"

At this, Holden's gaze shifted from the door to Alastor and then Rremly. There was worry in his eyes as he came toward them, resting a hand upon Rremly's shoulder. Rremly looked up at his brother, and for the longest minute they appeared to have a silent exchange. Eventually Holden gave a slight nod which Rremly returned before turning his gaze back to Alastor.

"We do know something," Rremly said, keeping hold of Alastor's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "This curse is old magic. It's rarely used because it's so complex. It's only used by true dark wizards and witches."

Alastor frowned. "What's so complex about it?"

"From what I understand, the witch or wizard has to cut deep into the victim to infect the body and the soul. It takes great skill and power to keep the victim alive while inflicting this curse…"

There was a long pause after Rremly trailed off in his explanation. The sadness in his eyes nearly broke Alastor's heart.

"Once it's accomplished, the curse becomes a part of the person. The person won't have any memory of what exactly was done. They'll only know they were cursed and by whom, but of course they'll have been forbidden to name the witch or wizard who did it." Holden took over the explanation to spare Rremly that pain.

"Once it's accomplished, the curse becomes a part of the person..."

A coldness slid down his back like ice. "There's no way to break the curse?" It hurt to breathe.

"There is," Rremly said quietly, "but that power lies within the victim."

"No one knows how, but it can be done." Holden added.

That reassurance went a long way. It can be done. There's still some hope. The vice-like grip that had held Alastor's lungs lessened. It felt good to breathe easy once again.

Belladonna frowned and asked the question he should have asked: "How is it that you both know all this?"

"It's something we have experience with," answered Holden, meeting her glance directly.

Now it was Stewart who spoke up, clearly confused and curious in equal parts. "How do you mean?"

"We can't explain just yet."

"Why not?" Percy asked, brows furrowed.

Holden sighed, quietly. "It isn't only our story to tell."

"We weren't the only ones involved," Rremly elaborated. "We'd have to ask our distant cousin if it's all right to tell you. I do think he might let us tell Al, at least, for obvious reasons, but it's best we have his permission first."

Now everyone looked even more confused and curious.

"Why ask? It's not as if we know him, do we?" Stewart queried, running his hand through his hair. It was clear he really wanted to know. Alastor couldn't blame him, as he felt the same.

"Oh, but you do know him," corrected Rremly.

Alastor couldn't take it anymore. "Rrem, who is it?"

For a moment it seemed that Rremly wasn't going to answer. He looked into Alastor's eyes and then slowly turned his gaze toward Percy. He took a deep breath.

"It's Milo."

The silence that followed was truly deafening. Alastor was certainly surprised by this hint of a revelation. How was it that Holden, Rremly, and Milo had experience with this curse? They couldn't have been cursed. They would have said so. Then how were the three of them involved? What was the connection?

Belladonna and Stewart exchanged glances. It looked as though they were asking themselves questions of a similar vein. Percy, however, was a bit pale and there was a look in his eyes that Alastor couldn't quite figure out. He had yet to look away from Rremly, and for his part, Rremly had yet to look away either. There was obviously some sort of unspoken communication going on between them and it unnerved him a little.

The front door opened and closed. The sound of it brought them all back to the present. Alastor leapt to his feet and caught sight of Professors Dumbledore and Morrigan, Stephen, and, to his surprise, the Gryffindor seeker, Thomas D'Arcy, heading upstairs. He knew the kind-hearted and good-natured fifth year was a good friend to Holden and Stephen, but that didn't explain why he was here.

Stephen's words drifted back to him. "We'll be back shortly with someone who might be able to help." How could Thomas help?

"You should go with them," said Rremly, touching his hand.

He wanted to say that the professors might not want him up there, but from the look in Rremly's eyes, he felt that it hardly mattered. With a slight nod to Rremly, he quickly left the room and hurtled up the stairs just in time to catch the door before it closed. Stephen drew open the door to allow Alastor inside. "I was wondering when you'd come." He shut the door, awarding him a calm smile. With a pat on Alastor's shoulder, Stephen moved to stand with the professors.

Apparently the subject of Thomas' presence and ability to help must have been discussed before Professor Dumbledore and Stephen had ever left because no one questioned his presence now or what he was doing when the dark-haired and fair-faced fifth year took the seat before Aurelius who looked a nervous. It wasn't in his expression, but rather in his eyes. That's strange. He hadn't been at all nervous when Stephen and Professor Ellerhone had tried their hands. What was so different in Thomas trying to help? Serene and patient, Thomas held out his hand. After a long moment Aurelius swallowed, placing his hand upon Thomas' hand. Alastor wondered if he'd imagined Aurelius's hand shaking a bit just then.

Why would his hand shake like that? Then again, it was so very slight…I must have imagined it.

Thomas smiled reassuringly, clearly trying to ease the tension for Aurelius. There was something about Thomas. Maybe it was his watery blue eyes, or his fair face, or the way he carried himself- whatever it was, Alastor could see that he had an air of serenity—of peace—about him. It seemed to calm Aurelius, though not quite in the same way Stephen seemed to calm a person. Alastor couldn't feel the calm impressing itself upon himself or Aurelius. It was more that the serenity that emanated from Thomas seemed to entrance and hold Aurelius. Alastor felt it, too.

Why is everyone so mysterious all of a sudden?

Pushing aside the thought, Alastor watched as Thomas placed his free hand over Aurelius's hand. The moment their hands touched, both Thomas' and Aurelius's eyes closed. They both took in a sharp but quiet breath, paling. The serenity was gone. Thomas' face was tense and troubled, quite matching Aurelius's face. They were breathing hard, in pants and gasps. Aurelius fell forward at the same time as Thomas toppled off his seat.

Shocked, Alastor hurried toward them but Stephen caught him and swiftly pulled him back. Professor Ellerhone had also sprung into action to stop him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kept it there. He knew they both were protecting him, but seeing his brother and Thomas like that on the floor in obvious pain was cutting him deeply. Eventually, after several more agonizing minutes, Alastor could breathe a sigh of relief. Thomas' and Aurelius's pain ceased. They lay slack on the floor, gasping for breath, a fine sheen of sweat evident on their faces and necks. Aurelius was the first to draw his hand back. He looked away and allowed his long auburn hair to obscure his face as he eased into a sitting position.

Alastor was hardly aware that Stephen and Professor Ellerhone had released him. It wasn't until he saw Ellerhone offering Aurelius a hand up and Stephen helping Thomas to stand that it hit him, throwing his mind back into action. Alastor was about to make a bee-line for his brother when Professor Dumbledore held out a hand to stop him.

"I do believe your brother has endured quite a lot today," said Dumbledore, calmly looking down at him through those familiar half-moon spectacles. "He should rest now," and here he nodded to Madam Arden, whom Alastor had completely forgotten about. Alastor couldn't help watching Madam Arden now as she produced what had to be a sleeping potion for his brother. Aurelius tossed back the contents of the vial and made himself comfortable on the bed. Within a minute he was fast asleep.

In that short time that he'd been watching his brother, he failed to notice that Professor Morrigan, Stephen, Thomas, and even Madam Arden, herself, had left the room. He came to this awareness when he felt a hand placed on his shoulder. He turned to find Professor Ellerhone looking down at him, sympathy and understanding evident in her eyes…mismatched eyes. The right was violet and the left blue. How had he ever missed that?

She gave him a little smile. "You can stay with him if you like."

"But…I'd really like to know what happened just now," he said, and then wished he hadn't spoke at all. His voice sounded so small. Part of him desperately wanted to know, but then…the other part was afraid. He knew she could hear it in his voice and see it in his manner.

Ellerhone knelt down before him, taking his hands in hers. "Stay here for now," she gently told him. "After we've had a few words with Thomas, I'll send him to tell you what you need to know. Only what you need to know, understand?"

"I think so," said Alastor. At least I hope I do.

Whether she sensed his uncertainty or not, she didn't let it show. Professor Ellerhone gave him another kind smile and squeezed his hands before releasing them. She left the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

Sometime later as Alastor sat beside the bed watching his brother, he caught sight of flames out of the corner of his eye. Startled he leapt to his feet and saw his brother's phoenix appear upon the perch that was meant for Holden's owl, Crumpet. At the same time the door opened. Thomas stepped quietly into the room. When he caught sight of the phoenix, his lips formed a warm and gentle smile.

"Vesta," he murmured quietly to himself, holding his hand out as he came closer. To Alastor's surprise she took flight and landed upon Thomas' arm.

"How did you know her name?" Gobsmacked, Alastor could only stare. Why was Vesta so familiar with Thomas when he was a perfect stranger?

Not at all put off by Alastor's surprise, Thomas smiled again. "Your brother introduced me to her."

"What?"

This elicited a quiet laugh from the easy-going Gryffindor. "Your brother and I met on the train our first year. There weren't any free seats and I happened to find Aurelius sitting alone. He was very quiet, but didn't mind my sitting with him." Thomas appeared to be remembering as if it were only yesterday that he'd met Aurelius. "I told him she was absolutely beautiful," and here he laughed softly once again, "and I got to talking about this book I'd read about the lore and symbolism of the phoenix. I thought perhaps I'd lost him with all I'd said, but I hadn't. He rather appreciated the interest and how genuine I was about it."

Alastor couldn't believe it- couldn't imagine it…but then after a little more thought, he supposed he could. It had been their first year. Aurelius couldn't have known Thomas would end up in Gryffindor. Then again…Aurelius would likely have asked about what House Thomas would like to be in. Perhaps that had been all there was to it: just a pleasant conversation during the journey.

"Did he ever ask you what House you thought you might be sorted into?" He had to ask- had to know.

Thomas met his eyes as he tenderly stroked Vesta's wing, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. "No, he didn't."

"That doesn't make sense…" Alastor stared at him with some measure of incredulity etched into his face.

Shifting his arm, Thomas coaxed Vesta to alight upon Alastor's shoulder, which she did, almost as if he'd verbalized the directive. "It does make sense, actually."

"How do you mean?"

"He was afraid of what the answer would be," Thomas patiently explained. "That's why he didn't ask."

"I don't understand. Why would he be afraid of the answer?"

Briefly, Thomas let his gaze fall on Aurelius's sleeping form. Alastor was confused to see a little sadness in the tall Gryffindor's profile. Eventually those gentle blue eyes settled upon him once again.

"I'm fairly certain he knew I was a muggleborn. He'd noticed I had a book with me and he recognized the lettering on the spine. It was Hogwarts: A History. He wondered if I'd read all of it," he spoke softly, as if he were reliving the moment. "I had, twice in fact. It's rather safe to assume that anyone who reads the book with that sort of fascination and dedication is more likely to be muggleborn or half-blood at least."

He had to admit, there was truth in that. He'd certainly only read it in passing, a few odd chapters here and there that caught his interest. As far as he knew, Aurelius had read it once, but not with any real dedication.

"However, nothing was confirmed. I hadn't said anything definitively either way. It was safe for him to ignore the thought- to put it aside. He really liked talking with me and liked my company." Thomas took the seat beside the bed—the one Alastor had abruptly vacated when he'd spotted Vesta—and placed his hand gently over Aurelius's hand. "I think he wanted to hold on to this one good thing while he could. It seemed to me that he didn't have any friends."

"But he did have friends," Alastor pointed out. "He used to spend a lot of time with our cousins—"

Thomas glanced over his shoulder at him, lips forming a small smile as he, emanating patience once again, "You can spend a lot of time with someone or several people, but it doesn't necessarily follow that they're your friends or that they know who you really are."

"I suppose I can't really understand…" he admitted quietly, unable to help feeling a little stupid.

"That's because you were lucky in your friendships," Thomas explained. "You never settled for less. That's your strength."

That left Alastor feeling uneasy. "You make it sound as though my brother's weak."

"No, not all," Thomas corrected him, and Alastor could see a great deal of emotion in his fine blue eyes. "You brother has his own strength, and he's growing into it beautifully." Something about the deep feeling in Thomas' quiet voice caused his heart to tighten.

There's so much I don't know. Why is everything and everyone a mystery to me now?

"What happened after the sorting?" Alastor finally asked after they'd shared a silence that was both companionable and a little sad, their eyes focused on the enigma that was Aurelius Alisander Moody.

Thomas didn't answer right away. He sat in silence for a few more moments, still holding Aurelius's hand, twining their fingers together. "We stayed friends…until the winter of our third year."

"What?" Alastor gasped, unable to believe it. "How- but… that—"

Thomas stopped him from staying more with only a glance. "I shouldn't say anything more. That's something you should ask your brother. There's only one thing more I can tell you, and it's what I came to tell you in the first place."

He released his hold on Aurelius's hand, gazing at his sleeping form for another minute before he rose and turned to Alastor. "What happened to your mother was an accident."

Alastor frowned. "What are you talking about?" His heart was racing.

"I have a gift, or perhaps I should say I have an ability, to see the past through an object or through someone. The memories of the object or the individual come to me through touch—"

"You held my brother's hand," murmured Alastor as he made the connection.

Thomas nodded. "Through that I could see what had happened. Even though your father had sewn his eyes shut, he could still see something of your mother through the tiny gaps between the stitches. She came down to stop your father. They struggled on the stairs, and she ducked out from under his hold, but she tripped and fell. She broke her neck and died instantly. There wasn't any pain."

She was trying to stop him. She wanted to save Aurelius, but not me.

He'd known he'd never mattered to her. He'd known it all along, but still it cut deeply. He couldn't take it. Alastor turned away and went for the window. He didn't want to see Thomas. He didn't want to see Aurelius. He didn't even want to see Vesta. Instead he gazed out the window. How could it still be day? How could the sun still shine outside? He felt as though it should be nightfall, felt as though hours and hours had gone by. Why wasn't it dark? It should be dark. It felt dark.

"There's one more thing," he heard Thomas' quiet and gentle voice behind him.

Alastor refused to turn around. "I don't care." He didn't give a flying dragon about how much of bitterness was evident in his voice.

There were several moments of silence before he heard Thomas speak again, softly. "We both know that isn't true." When Alastor didn't say anything, he pressed on. "Aurelius placed some things in your trunk that don't belong to you. I have the impression that some of what you want to know and need to know lies within those items."

He could see Thomas' reflection in the glass. Thomas looked so concerned that he couldn't stand it. Without so much as looking at him, Alastor stormed out of the room. He hurtled down the stairs and launched himself through the front door. He heard everyone calling out for him, but he kept running. He knew there wasn't really anywhere to go, and he knew he didn't want to leave altogether. He just had to get away.

Alastor didn't think of anything. He let his feet take him where they would.