There are two more vials left, but why burden myself with them? I've seen enough, I've heard enough. Enough to know that the blood in my veins cannot have an ounce of goodness in it.

Nothing but mortal sins have been passed on to me, for as I came to life – far away from heaven – there can obviously only be one destiny for me. As near as Icarus flew to the sun, as close am I to the underworld.

Seven in number – in every roaring pulse. Every heartbeat. My every thought. Seven deadly sins that I'm more than aware of in the pouring rain below the tall trees of this forest.

Superbia – Pride.
The worst and most obvious sacrilege against nature, rushing through my universe as if I were made of nothing but cold arrogance.

Avaritia – Greed.
I have already taken more from life than an orphan should ever be entitled to. And I'm far from done with doing so …

Luxuria – Lust.
Why wait or abstain when I can have whatever I like? Not even my sincere veneration for Harper could stop me from touching her – doesn't that reveal who I am? There's no inhibition in me at all. And where nothing is sacred, everything is evanescent …

Ira – Wrath.
Ever since I can remember it dictates my every thought, ever so fervently. No other feeling accompanies me in such consistence, while mercy was never put in my cradle. Nothing but fury ever fueled my ambition, and yet I suffocate by the cold and blind hate it brings.

Gula – Gluttony.
I was so hungry for power I could barely have a clear thought before Harper came into my life. But who can guarantee I won't lose myself again if it serves my purpose? Isn't stern rationality my ultimate maxim? What would a soul as unstable as mine stop for?

Invidia – Envy.
Envy can't even begin to describe the raging jealousy that arises in me when I witness opportunities in the lives of the rich and ungrateful being presented as a matter of course. How easy life can be – and how hard it is on the dark side of the moon.

Acedia – Sloth.
My heart beats and throbs, wishing to process all these realisations in exasperation, forcing me to draw my consequences, to become better – to grow, outgrow myself, outgrow my supposed fate. But utmost ignorance formed me. Nothing ever got past it. It doesn't allow me to change. No, I have long since been drowned in darkness, and inertia paralyses every further step into the light.

Above all, though, my worst deficiency I just learned of is not even a mortal sin. It's so unthinkable and cruel in itself, stripping life from it's classical purpose, that it's not even in the scope of possibility.

Yet it's inevitable.

I cannot love.

Apparently not even the angel that heaven tried to send my way. I couldn't even bring myself to voice it, this very morning, right after the night she gave her all to me …

And suddenly, my path in life seems completely logical. I finally understand where the emptiness comes from. Where others have a heart, I have but an organ.

How could I even be able to love, now that I know what I am – and in which ways the stars were aligned for my conception.

How foolish of me to doubt the evil within me. Greek mythology emphasized the premonition to me long ago – in the archives of the Pure-Blood Directory – as for Merope, the apodictics of her name are probably truly irrefutable.

The shameful daughter of a dragon …

The Revelation of John speaks of the dragon, the serpent of old – emblematic of ultimate evil.

… who got herself into a dishonourable marriage with a mortal …

Dishonour almost seems like a cynical euphemism in the light of what she did. And once again I find myself with Goethe. And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ. And for what?

… and became the mother of a demon.

Out of good comes good. But from nothing comes nothing. What can come out of our abyss but disaster on everything I touch?

I step back from the Pensieve, hell-bent on cursing the two remaining vials into Hades for all eternity.

But then I hear them.

Harper's bright voice in the shack, choking. Through branches and the thicket of the forest during the storm, the wind carries it to me, and I may still be dazed and beside myself, but I've never run as fast as I do now.

I call her name, several times, more anxious than ever, until I reach the hut and rush inside, dripping wet from the rain.

Morfin is still tied up, and he himself isn't the problem. But Harper's struggling for breath in front of the old armchair, she's slumped to the floor right next to my wand.

"What happened?" Like in a trance, I run towards her and drop to my knees. My clothes drip onto her and the floor as I ask, "Harper, what's wrong?"

She can't answer, she can barely catch her breath, so I hastily read the last spell off my wand.

Vipera Evanesca, again and again, and I immediately suspect what must've happened.

I look out for bite marks on her body.

But there are not two.
There are countless – the more I look, the more I see – that incited snakes must have left behind. On her neck, her hands, her legs. Harper's bleary gaze and slow breathing testify to my theory all too well.

"What have you done?" I bark at Morfin.

"Morfin's snakes obey him because otherwise they get nailed to the door," my uncle giggles. "But she made them all disappear after the first shock …"

I'll make sure he disappears, be it the last thing I do – but Harper's literally suffocating right now.

"Let her lose her breath," Morfin chortles, "the poison is already in her system!"

I grab my wand, raging mad – and he's already flinching, but Harper gasps so miserably that he still remains irrelevant to me.

I sit her up in my arms in hopes that she'll be able to fill her lungs this way, but even my repeated Anapneo fails to provide for a sigh of relief. I put my hands around her neck, but my murmured healing spells are of no use.

It's like a nightmare, and I can't seem to win.
Can mere snake bites have such fatal effects?

Then I realise.
The nerve poison surely causes an allergic reaction – if she almost chokes on apples, what does snake venom do?

I've never felt that helpless in my life. She tries to relax, but it's intuition to keep gasping for breath as I frantically shove loose strands back away from her face.
I try to suppress my panic, but as I bend over her, her empty gaze lets something break in me. Her eyelids get heavy already, paralysing fatigue taking possession of her while every possible breath she takes is constricted by the overwhelming fear of choking.

But I can't let that happen.

"Harper, stay awake!" I shout. I literally shake her as though it could absorb the poison that has already entered her bloodstream. "Look at me," I demand, "I need you to breathe slowly!"

And as she tries so hard to comply, as I can do nothing else – all at once I feel a strange stinging in my eyes, completely unknown to me. A simple body reaction.
As it almost obscures my vision, I realise what it must be.

How utterly unfamiliar and surreal.
I don't remember having tears in my eyes ever, and according to Mrs Cole, I never cried as a toddler.
And yet I seem to feel like it right now because the fear of losing her is driving me into miserable madness.

Misery …

Merope's words, right before her mother's grave …

I feel like I'm suffocating. Just like I did after all those bites. I probably should've died from them. If it weren't for your book, all this misery would already have been over for me …

"Your sister!" I immediately yell at Morfin. "Merope! This happened to her once, didn't it?"

Morfin all but chuckles, but he has no idea how angry that makes me.

I jump up and drill my wand into his neck the very next moment. "What did you do then?" I urge. "Did you brew a potion?"

He licks his lips and then presses them together mischievously, as if he wouldn't tell me for the life of him – but he obviously doesn't know me yet.

I hastily release his invisible rope so that my Cruciatus breaks him in its full force, through every fibre of his body. Only when I hear Harper gasp behind us I give my wailing uncle a break – I still need him.

"Is there a potion?" I repeat my question right before his pain sets in again.

"I'll say it!" he sobs. "Morfin will show it to you!"

"We don't have all day, move!" I yell as he struggles to his feet on wobbly legs. Crouched he scurries to the other end of the room. He makes a determined effort with the boards in the floor and I think he's up to something. But when he hastily pulls out a piece of wood under my threat of further torture, I see the hiding place embedded in the ground as well.

Besides worms and all kinds of fleeing insects, he pulls out a ring and one of several small vials, the contents of which shimmer in a greenish flash.

"Accio!" I get the potion while he holds onto the ugly ring as if it were an anchor. I glare at Morfin nevertheless. "Heaven and hell have mercy on you should this not help her – because I won't have any!"

He doesn't venture to laugh anymore, he merely nods. Tormented, he remains cowering in his corner, watching tensely and still shaking as I administer the potion.

And for a moment there, I think Harper's going into cardiac arrest, but then she suddenly takes a deep breath as if she's been underwater for far too long. She coughs a few times, then she snatches my wand from my hand, only to get up in an unspeakable rage.

"You!" She aims the wand at Morfin. "How dare you mistreat those poor animals like that! And send them after me like a maniac!" She downright screams. "Where is your humour now? Why aren't you laughing anymore?"

"Don't let him hurt Morfin anymore!" he whimpers – and she actually pauses, quite perplexed.

"Everything hurts," he whines on. "Morfin's head is bursting …"

I can see it. She takes pity on him.

"Harper, my wand," I say, realising she's not going to use it. "Leave us alone."

She knows me and my intentions – and she shakes her head. Lowering her arm she exhales in frustration, saying, "Let's just leave, Tom."

I take my wand from her hand. "Wait outside."

Morfin let's his gaze wander from her to me, in heartfelt panic at these words – then he glances back to Harper.

"Don't!" he begs. "Don't leave Morfin with him, you can't leave Morfin alone with him!"

"Tom," she sighs, her anxiety obviously kicking in, "please, let's just get out of here, we –"

"Wait outside," I urge her, "leave us alone."

She shakes her head. "I know that look. When you tighten your jaw like that, you're certainly up to no –"

"It wasn't a suggestion."

"A storm is raging outside!" The rain doesn't bother her. On any other occasion she'd claim she wasn't made of sugar.

"A storm is about to rage in here in a second," I gloomily retort as Morfin yelps in his corner.

Indecisive tears gather in her eyes as she tilts her head. "Why don't we just leave? You shouldn't have to regret anything, you –"

"I already do," I say, glaring down at Morfin in disgust. "I shouldn't have brought you here –"

"Nothing happened, Tom," she hurriedly claims, placing her hands on my cheeks. "I'm still here. See? Here with you!"

I suppose my jaw is tense indeed, and I'm no longer in the mood for discussions.

"Out," I repeat for the last time. "Now."

Sometimes wrath cannot be stopped – after all, it's one of the deadliest sins.