Something Wicked This Way Comes
James stumbled off the raised coffin and collapsed into a sitting position against it.
His head hit the side of the raised coffin with a dull thunk. James rubbed his eyes and tried to think.
James was in the Potter family's mausoleum, and had been lying on his father's raised coffin before he woke. The last time he had been in there was for his father's funeral, and boy, oh, boy whoever's brilliant idea it was to put him here was going to pay. The marble was pristine and the bronze letters on the columbaria glowing, meaning the house-elves were doing their job.
James groaned. All he wanted to do was to go home to Harry and Lily and Padfoot and Remus and Wormy…
No, he thought firmly. You're an Auror! Think!
If he went home immediately, he could risk trailing Death Eaters to his location. Not to mention he didn't know how much time had passed - three days, three weeks? He could've been presumed dead. It was a war, after all; but Padfoot and Lily combined made a frightening combination of determination to never give up.
Still, he could only guess that a Death Eater had done this. A bit of fun, perhaps? But that didn't make sense - no Death Eater, nobody, should be able to get past the wards on the mausoleum. But if they managed to knock him out, they could use his blood let them through the wards.
James grimaced. This wasn't helping. He still didn't know how much time had passed - the last thing he remembered…it had been Halloween morning, and he had gone out to get a pie crust because sweet Lily, for the life of her, couldn't make one for the pumpkin pie.
And then nothing.
…that probably wasn't good.
James struggled to his feet. St. Mungo's, he decided, no Death Eaters would be able to harm him there. Not with the wards in place -
James froze as he looked down. No, that wasn't right.
James was dressed in dragonhide boots, black pants, and a belt - there was a black jerkin over his white tunic; both edged with silver. He had overrobes on, edged with the same silver and the Potter crest over his heart and a black velvet cloak was draped over his shoulders, a thin silver chain across his chest. And the rapier in his hand…
…was the ceremonial rapier. All Potters were given one at birth that they were to be buried with when they died.
James's blood ran cold.
He calmly tucked the rapier in his belt, and then, with a bang from his wand, slid open the mausoleum door and stepped into the pouring rain.
St. Mungo's it was, then.
"So, what you're telling me," Remus said slowly, turning over his wand in his hand. "Is that your grandfather - who by all accounts is dead - your other grandfather/great-uncle - "
" - you've got to love inbreeding," Sirius interjected, looking bitter.
" - and your great-aunt - who are all in their late eighties and the biggest, bigoted blood purists you could ever meet - suddenly decided to go have tea with a Muggle family in Surrey to kidnap Harry Potter?"
"Yes!" Sirius insisted. "Look, Remus, what other reason would they have to invite you to tea if not to ransom off Harry?"
"To kill me," Remus said dryly. He sighed. "Sirius, you of all people know that - however insane your relatives are - they're not stupid. They would know, that as a werewolf, I wouldn't have money for a ransom."
"I wouldn't put it past Arcturus," Sirius snorted. "The man can't do any research, Cassie's always harping on about it. But, no, Remus, not money ransom. The family's rich enough. Arcturus could want Dumbledore, he could even want to raise Harry as a Black heir - hell, he could want me to come back. He could want Voldemort."
Remus massaged his temples. The thought of Harry, poor Harry - already run over by life so many times - in the hands of the Blacks…his cub. Remus clenched his wand tightly in steely determination.
"What do we do?" Remus asked, standing up.
Sirius's grin was malevolent and his eyes sparkled with manic glee in the dull moonlight.
"Easy," Sirius practically cackled. "We kidnap Harry Potter."
Harry yawned as he woke up to morning light.
He blinked as someone slid his glasses on his face. Where was he? He should be at the Dursleys', bleeding out on the floor or making breakfast.
"Harry, dear, it is time to wake up. I have breakfast and things to discuss."
Harry looked towards the person who spoke; she holding open the curtains on one side of the bed. It was Cassiopeia, looking as primped and pressed as yesterday. The only difference was the blue gown and overrobes she now wore.
"I - ah - " Harry spluttered. So…he really was here, wherever that happened to be? It wasn't a dream?
"Close your mouth," Cassiopeia instructed, wrinkling her nose. She drew her wand, flicking it at the curtains so they fastened themselves to the bedposts. "You haven't brushed your teeth in a few days, my dear, and I'm afraid it shows."
Harry shut his mouth with a click, face heating up. He struggled to prop himself up against the pillows, but grit his teeth and collapsed when pain shot like a javelin through his side.
Breathing through his teeth and eyes clamped shut, Harry waited for the pain to fade. Harry forced his eyes open when the pain dulled to see Cassiopeia sitting on the side of the bed, lips pursed and looking oddly troubled.
"I apologize, Harry," she frowned. "I did not realize the pain relieving potions would have worn off by now."
"Healer Koloman has left a strict regimen of pain potions and other nutrient potions to help you recover," Cassiopeia told him, running her hands through his hair. Harry stiffened, but slowly relaxed into her touch. "Unfortunately, they all must be taken on a full stomach. That heralds breakfast time," Cassiopeia retracted her hand and stood. "Come now, Harry."
Harry grimaced, but Cassiopeia helped him slowly slide out of the bed and stand, leaning heavily against her.
"You are on strict bed rest, of course," Cassiopeia continued, helping Harry slowly inch away from the bed a pace that would have made a snail jealous. "But your muscles will simply atrophy if you spend to much time in that bed." Cassiopeia stopped, seeing Harry gape, open-mouthed, at the room before him.
"Where…where are we?"
The room was large with ebony hardwood floors, gray walls, and a domed ceiling that reminded Harry of Gryffindor Tower. The bed that Harry had been in before was pressed up against the left wall, taking up most of the space except for the door on the left-handed side of the behemoth bed. Everything about the room was gray fabrics with ebony woods, but that was only the beginning of the color scheme.
On the back wall, in the middle, was a large fireplace made of black marble, the mantle was a carved pattern that looked like curling serpents. A table with three chairs on either side was in front of the fireplace, stacked high with silver platters of mouthwateringly fresh breakfast foods. On either side of the fireplace, the walls were actually floor-to-ceiling windows framed by heavy silver drapes. The wall across from the back wall held a set of heavy double doors.
The right wall was composed entirely of floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with thick, leather-bound volumes. A desk sat in front of the bookcases with a silver-cushioned, wingbacked chair behind it and an empty owl stand next to it.
But the ceiling was the best. It reminded Harry less of the Great Hall and more of a planetarium he had been to in grade three. The dome ceiling glittered with the stars from the night sky, connected by misty white lines that formed beautiful illustrations - a winding snake that was breathing fire, two majestic lions, a Grecian warrior with a drawn sword and Godric-awful looking decapitated head with snakes for hair. There were multicolored dots of light that Harry thought might be planets or distant stars. The strange ticks and markings that bordered the rim of the dome that reminded Harry of an astronomy map he had once seen.
"You like the ceiling, yes?" Cassiopeia asked, looking up at it with Harry. "It reflects the night sky - I believe you've already gathered that. But during the day, it reflects the constellations we would be looking at if not for the sun."
"Where are we?" Harry repeated.
"Why, your chambers, of course," Cassiopeia said airily. "Come now, Harry, breakfast time."
"My chambers - ? You can't be serious," Harry protested weakly as Cassiopeia helped him stagger towards the table.
"You will be hard pressed to find a time when I am not serious," Cassiopeia sniffed. "Of course these are your chambers, Harry. You do remember our talk last night, do you not? These are the heir's chambers. You are the heir."
"But I - I - " Harry tried to think. How could he articulate that he most certainly did not deserve this? Cassiopeia helped him slide into a cushioned chair before sitting herself across from Harry.
"Harry," Cassiopeia said softly. "Look at me. Listen to me, dear."
Harry looked into Cassiopeia's eyes, biting his tongue.
"You will find few children in the world, Harry," Cassiopeia said, a gentle lilt to her voice, "who truly do not deserve to be treated as if they are loved. And I can tell you, Harry Potter, that you are most certainly loved. I, my brother, and my cousin shall treat you as such. Now, a truly pressing concern: tea, coffee, or juice?"
"Ah…pumpkin juice would be fine, thank you," Harry mumbled as Cassiopeia poured him a glass of pumpkin juice and herself a cup of tea.
Harry plucked his napkin off his plate, remembering his manners, and placed it on his lap as he tried to remember what fork went with what.
Cassiopeia served him breakfast, steadfastly ignoring his protests he could serve himself (he was glad, though - he could only imagine the pain at reaching for that amazing looking bacon). She also ignored his assurances that all he needed was toast ("No one should be that thin, my dear. You are starting to resemble a twig. Do eat slowly, though.") and piled high a plate of bacon, toast, fruit, grits, and three different colored potions.
"Harry," Cassiopeia spoke, eyes narrowed as she watched him eat ("Slowly," she had cautioned him). "Do you remember our talk from last night?"
Harry nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. How could he forget? That was possibly the strangest conversation in his life, wherein Cassiopeia had worn a murderous expression the entire time she interrogated him on history.
Cassiopeia flicked her wand, and three books, which had been stacked at the other end of the table, came floating to sit at the place next to Harry. Harry recognized the books - A History of Magic, Hogwarts: A History, and a book Hermione liked: Modern Magical Theory.
"I would like to speak to you more on the subject," Cassiopeia said delicately. Harry was getting a bad feeling about this, "for I believe there are some facts essential for you to know. However, I can understand apprehension about the validity of my facts, seeing as I am from a traditionally blood purist family."
Harry looked at her sharply. Blood purist? Like the Malfoys, or Voldemort?
"As you know, Harry, the world is a complicated and dangerous place. Our world, especially, seems to attract the worst type of scum," Cassiopeia's lips thinned, and for the first time Harry wondered bitterly if so-called Mudbloods qualified as scum. Cassiopeia caught his eyes and continued on firmly. "Blood purity is not as black and white as it seems, I can assure you. But it also has a profound affect on our world. And you, Harry, are a main figure in our world, whether you like it or not," Cassiopeia overrode Harry's instantaneous protests.
"And I wish for you to understand why the world is the way it is. I can understand, through this admission, why you would not trust my word. Because of that, I have different references for you to compare my story to."
Cassiopeia folded her hands over her cup of tea. Harry leaned back in his seat - he hadn't really trusted her to begin with, but Harry did believe her, and his respect for her rose a few notches for her with her refreshing honesty.
"The magical world was not as cohesive and connected as it once was," Cassiopeia began. "No one is sure, exactly, how magic started, but wizards and witches would generally live in clans that would rise into power, defeat the other clans, and then die back down again. But what we do know is that, seven centuries before Hogwarts was even started, twelve family clans came into prominence."
Harry watched in fascination, food completely forgotten, the fast-flipping pages of one of the books suddenly slowed. The book slowly progressed through twelve different decorated shields - what must be the family crests - but too fast for Harry to catch the names written under them.
"They rose to be lords of their lands," Cassiopeia continued, taking a sip of her tea, "each family distinguishing themselves for their unique and powerful areas of expertise in magic. Five centuries before Hogwarts was founded, after years of bloodshed, the lords of each house gathered together to create the Alliance of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families."
At her words, two of the books' pages stopped flipping. One book showed an illustration of twelve dignified looking men around a stone table, leaning on staffs with different colored crystals embedded in the top. The other page showed a copy of an old historical document, the top reading: The Treaty of the Twelve.
"They agreed to all equally govern the land in their own capacities: one house would be the House of War, the other to be the House of Economy, the House of Infrastructure (though it was not called that at the time)…so on and so forth. The nature of the Houses' realm of influence made it so that lords were forced to cooperate and work together in harmony to the point where many lords were good friends. Each House, you see, had a lord, who ruled over the entire house; the presumptive heir, who followed his lord and did the lord's bidding as well as his own; and the head of house, the former lord who governed the family."
"Excuse me," Harry interrupted as Cassiopeia took another sip of her tea. "But are you saying there was no…king? Or minister? Um…Ms. Cassiopeia?"
"Aunt Cassiopeia, Harry; and no. It was the Houses who regulated themselves. Each member of the houses - especially the heirs, lords, and heads - would take vows to never fall into corruption, to never abuse their powers, to not go against the Three Values of their House, to do the bidding of their head, lord, and heir, to not marry within the Great Families as to keep the lines pure, and to uphold the Alliance among other things, all on the pain of loosing their magic."
"Why is that so bad?" Harry asked as he frowned at one of the book's illustration of a young man kneeling before twelve older men, who were sporting swords and wands instead of staffs. "Muggles have been living without magic for ages."
"Swearing on your magic was - is - the most serious vow you could take," Cassiopeia answered, stirring her tea. "To break an oath of that magnitude was not just to court death; it was to essentially send yourself to hell. Even today, it is regarded as the height of dishonor to break a vow made upon your magic. Do eat, Harry, dear," she added, gesturing towards his now-cold plate. "And don't forget your potions."
"Yes…Aunt Cassiopeia," Harry added, grudgingly reaching for a sickeningly green potion as Cassiopeia continued on.
"Already at this time the Twelve Great Wizarding Families were prosperous and powerful. Over the centuries they gained even more wealth and the collections of knowledge the houses were said to have had was incomparable. Under the direction of the Twelve Families, the Wizarding world of the United Kingdom flourished and grew to be one of the most formidable in the world. This was most especially during the time before Hogwarts, where the families raised many witches and wizards into great standing, who, in turn, became loyal vassals of the houses…which is where the fault lines began to grow. After years of noble service, some of these families were granted lordships - a lower lordship - in the form of The Most Ancient House, as opposed to The Most Noble and Ancient House."
Harry munched on a piece of bacon as he avidly watched the shields the book was flipping through; at least fifteen more had been added.
"These Houses," Cassiopeia explained, "were subject to the ultimate Alliance of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families; the ruling Council of Lords. But these houses grew very powerful in their own right and started to demand to have a voice in the government…indeed," she gave an unladylike snort. "Some of the Great Houses started to rely so much on their vassals they neglected to take their vows, to do their duties, and a Dark Lord - who came from one of the Great Families, even! - rose to power because of the negligence of this act. Partly in response to the Dark Lord fiasco, by the time it approached the fifteenth century, there were so many Ancient Houses and so much demand for another voice that the Alliance's Council of Lords created the Wizengamot. The Wizengamot was a council who could ultimately decide to veto a decision made by the Alliance in the form a majority vote."
Frowning, Harry watched as one book stopped on the illustration of a council of maybe twenty-five or so middle aged men on a raised dais in front of a man in chains. While the second book was open to a section titled The Emergence of the Wizengamot, the third book was open to a section called The First Failures of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families.
"The main difference was, however, this: they did not have to take oaths on corruption or power abuse," Cassiopeia's lip curled. "The formation of the Wizengamot was the start of blood purity; the Twelve Families looked down on Wizengamot, deeming them "lesser" purely out of resentment for being backed into a corner, but the Wizengamot - and what became the Ministry - started to look down on the Twelve because of what they felt was an archaic system. Nonetheless, the system worked, for a while; everyone was happy."
Harry's brow creased. The beginnings of blood purity and everyone was happy? That couldn't last for long.
"However," Cassiopeia confirmed his suspicions, "The Most Ancient Houses were gaining vassals who they, as well, rewarded with lordships for their service. The Most Noble Houses - as they were called - started to demand a voice, as well, and by the time the seventeenth century rolled around and while the Twelve Great Wizarding Houses refused to give the Most Noble Houses a place on the Wizengamot, the Wizengamot - made up of the lords of The Most Ancient Houses - vetoed the decision and the Wizengamot was expanded, all in an attempt to undermine the Twelve Great Wizarding Families. It worked," Cassiopeia said bitterly.
As she started to speak again, the books flipped by summarized reforms, treatises, and treaties. "The Wizengamot slowly started to push for more and more power. As they got their power - winning all of the votes by landslides - the Twelve Families became more and more embittered; members refused point blank to take oaths while corruption and abuse of the Twelve Families' extensive powers started to grow, hurting everyone in the process. With the power the Wizengamot collected, they started to lay the foundations for the Ministry of Magic, which precipitated an instant backlash from the Twelve Families, but a positive one from the public. And then, when Muggle England had just recognized the independence of the Muggle United States of America after the American War of Independence, the victory of the Muggles bolstered the idea of a Ministry. Within a century, the Alliance of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families were ousted from power with, surprisingly, no bloodshed whatsoever and replaced by the Ministry of Magic. The ensuing years, however…"
Harry did the math in his head. That added up to about the mid to late eighteen hundreds, right? It was true that the technological progression of the Wizarding world seemed to stop there. The only invention Harry had seen that stood beyond that time period - besides Mr. Weasley's flying car - were the radios that played the Wizarding Wireless Network, and that was nothing like the fancier Muggle radios.
"To add insult to injury, the Ministry laid claim to many of the ancient artifacts that the Twelve Families possessed: artifacts, that when used by the Great Families, protected the land from invaders, brought in bountiful harvests, and could build a street or castle as quick as you please," Cassiopeia said, leaning back in her chair. For once, she looked more tired than bitter. It is a real shame, Harry thought as he stared, fascinated, at a moving illustration of an entire house being built from foundation up at lightening pace; pieces of timber and plumbing spinning through the air as the moved into place. All those useful things gone to waste. "Laws were starting to be passed: members of the House of War could not join law enforcement, members of the House of Diplomacy could not join political pursuits, the members of the House of the Environment could not sell their wares or, indeed, grow them…the members of the Great Families, even those who fought to restore the Houses to glory and honor, were humiliated and branded traitors and Dark Lords. Of course, in doing so, the Ministry made what they despised and feared come to be."
Harry watched as the books again flipped through more reforms and laws, but his focus lay on an illustration of a Dark Lord that looked unerringly like a cross between an older Draco Malfoy and Voldemort.
"Over the next century, the Houses languished and rose to glory and took a middle ground and then fell even farther then before, especially when they started to intermarry. However, things began to reach a middle ground around the early twentieth century. The Great Families started to simply deal with their lot in life and lived without complaints as a heavy influx of Mu…Muggle-borns started in."
Harry tensed. This was getting to what he was interested in, but also very wary of.
"The Muggle-borns," Cassiopeia began, very carefully choosing her words. "Were disgusted with the stasis of the Wizarding world. Indeed, the fact that the Great Houses both refused and were not allowed to do their jobs meant many things: the technology of the Wizarding world is and was stuck in the eighteen hundreds, wars had and have been long and arduous, the environment is struggling, the magical creatures are fiercely persecuted, and many more travesties."
Cassiopeia leaned forward.
"This, Harry, is where the blood purity we know today set in," she said seriously. "As I said, the Ministry could not communicate well with the magical creatures like the House of Creatures, so they began to shun and persecute them. (Though, truthfully, they was persecution when the Twelve Families reigned.) But this was when the Wizengamot and wizards in general were getting frustrated with the superiority of the Muggle-borns but did not want to admit their faults. Though, truthfully, they were scared as well - many a witch and wizard had not escaped the Muggles' persecution of things strange, and many Muggle-borns had attempted a crusade on the Wizarding world in the beginning of Hogwarts's time. The Wizarding world was also acutely aware of how technologically advanced the Muggles were. They just did not want to admit it. But it was simpler for the Wizengamot - and, I must admit, most of the Great Wizarding Families - that they looked down upon the Muggle-born simply because they were born of Muggles then admit to their fear and growing hate. There was even some truth to it - the fear that the Muggle-borns generated was associated with Muggles. While Muggle-borns had never been particularly well-like, persecution rose to an unprecedented rate for Muggle-borns as the war set in for, indeed, the Dark Lord Grindelwald had risen to power.
"His first act was the slaughter almost every member of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families, leaving only the main line, protected as they were by the family magic. The Wizengamot regarded this act with passivity and the Great Families with rage, as it was illegal for them to fight. He began killing millions of Muggles, but when he turned to Muggle-borns, the Wizengamot may have acted passively, but the Muggle-borns did not. It was their actions and their leadership that ultimately brought Grindelwald to his knees (with much backing from the Twelve Families, I can assure you), but the Ministry was quick to cover this up and suppressed the Muggle-borns more than ever. But for the Twelve Great Wizarding Families, things settled out."
"What?" Harry blurted out angrily. "All those people died and the Ministry did nothing…just let them die because they had Muggles for parents? That's not right!"
Cassiopeia's face was carefully blank, which just made Harry more angry.
"Won't you say anything? Why, don't care because they're lesser beings? Prejudice only ends up getting people killed, you know," Harry spat, not caring he was talking to his great-aunt and elder that way. He started to turn away. "How people could stand to live with themselves, I'll never know."
Cassiopeia reached across the table and grasped his hand before he could turn away.
"Harry," she said sharply, tilting his head up to meet hers. There was a regretful look in her eyes that didn't suit her rigid countenance at all. "Two days ago, I would have fiercely disagreed with you. And I cannot tell you I like Muggles or Muggle-borns, or any others of the lesser houses, it is true," she admitted. "But…no, I do not blame them for my own failings. That takes far too much effort. But don't you see? So many people do blame the closest things around for their own shortcomings. That is what I'm trying to tell you."
"That's not all you're trying to tell me," Harry pointed out mutinously, leaning back in his chair as Cassiopeia retracted her hands.
"No," Cassiopeia agreed, "but will you listen to the rest?"
Harry flushed, slightly embarrassed at his outburst. He nodded.
"Everything was mostly well…that was, until, Lord Voldemort. Voldemort's coming should be more accurately termed the final downfall of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families," Cassiopeia pursed her lips. "The rise of the Dark Lord was…monumental, whatever way you slice it. While the Ministry did not understand what was happening until later, it tore the remaining Twelve Families apart at the seams. You see, Harry, Lord Voldemort presented an unprecedented opportunity. He was powerful - more powerful than Albus Dumbledore by far! - he saw how things were supposed to be: how the wretched Ministry should be taken down, the lesser beings destroyed, and how, most importantly, the golden age of magic in England should be restored…for, you see, it was the unimaginable. While he played along the rest of the purebloods, who could only see ridding the Muggles from the world, the Dark Lord was, in fact, a member of one of the Twelve Families. Not only that, but an heir - and, somehow, completely unbound by all Ministry laws…" Cassiopeia trailed off, an unreadable look on her face, but she was speaking like she couldn't stop. "The rightful place of the Families, completely restored! - the Twelve Families were in rapture.
"Most of them, that was. And that was what destroyed the Great Families.
"What remained of the Alliance was rapidly torn apart; Light or Dark, Dumbledore or Voldemort. It was only the elders of the Houses that stayed neutral. But it was not just Houses: it was literally brother against brother…it was the worst thing I could possibly hope to imagine. Because imagination was what it was. No one saw mother versus daughter; they saw what was right and what was below them. That was the true downfall of the Twelve Great Wizarding Families. And, looking back, I believe that was what Voldemort wanted all along. The passivity of the elders was a mistake that must never be repeated, for Voldemort's actions did not just tear apart the Families. They tore apart families."
Harry felt sick to his stomach as he could hear Voldemort's high laugh mixing with his mother's screams. Yes, he knew how Voldemort could tear apart families, even just ordinary ones. And while on the subject…
"Aunt Cassiopeia," Harry said slowly, "you never told me who the Twelve Great Wizarding Families were."
"The Twelve Great Wizarding Families…" Cassiopeia paused before looking at him strangely, but not unkindly. "I must remind you, the names of the families has differed over the generations, what with marriages and family feuds, but it started with the House of Transportation; the Gaunt family had ultimate duty and control over the transportation in the United Kingdom. All of their power and family was based around protecting and improving transportation. It was the same with the House of Communication, ruled by the Zabini family. Next was the House of Environment, the Greengrasses. The House of Economy, the Prewetts. The House of Creatures, the Lovegoods. The House of Intellect, the Longbottoms. The House of Health, the Lestranges. The House of Justice, the Boneses. The House of History, the Malfoys. The House of Diplomacy, the Blacks. The House of Infrastructure, the Weasleys. And finally…the House of War, the Potters."
Well, thought Harry as he stared at the pumpkin juice he had spat out across the table and a visibly annoyed Cassiopeia dabbing it off her face, that was…unexpected.
"There's only one problem, Aunt Cassiopeia," Harry said conversationally, his mind strangely blank and his hands shaking rapidly. "Voldemort? He's kind of a half-blood."
No one was more surprised than Regulus Black when he woke up to sunlight blaring in his eyes and trying simultaneously to spit out sand and cough up salt water on to the crushed shells and rocks of the sea shore.
Regulus collapsed on his back, wincing as the wind ripped through his drenched and heavy velvet clothes; it made the sunny, sixty degree weather feel like a walk through a frozen hell.
Speaking of hell, Regulus groggily thought, retching out more saltwater. There was no way the potion was still in his system now, not after all that. And Kreacher had the locket - hell.
Holy bleeding hell.
He should be dead - he should be dead and drowned or a cruel mockery of a human as a slaving inferius, his body doomed to protect the thing he had given his life to destroy…
Holy hell, he should really be dead.
Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter or JKR's works, no copyright infringement intended, no money being made here, and all recognizable characters, places, settings, etc. all belong to their respective owners.
He…he…I only just now realized how stupid it was for Cassiopeia to move a victim of a stab wound.