4

Chapter IV: A Dark History

(Michael P.O.V)

Michael's body ached as he once more lifted his palm. The black metal shield that had seemingly been bolted into a tree beside the fort rang at every impacted spell. He dropped his arm, panting as the cool winds rustled the trees above him. All his life, he'd never imagine he would travel to another country since money had always been tight. It was surreal to find himself at The Ardennes in France behind a lost fort that was used as the French Auror Department Headquarters.

"Again!" Tomas called, "With everything you've got!" Michael took a deep breath, lifting his palm once more towards the shield, the magic charging in his arm, "Fire!" Michael did so, Reducto, bellowing in his head as a large blast of magic erupted from his hand. He'd seen it done three times now, but each time surprised him as the black shield absorbed his blast with ease. "Good work, but the magic reading was lower than the first. You're probably approaching your limit."

Michael felt he didn't need a test to tell him that much as he fell to his knees exhausted. Though his eyes never left the black shield. Anti-Magic material, Michael pondered deeply. The onyx black material looked eerily reminiscent of the sword that Michael had seen hanging over the fireplace at Grimmauld Place. Not much was known about the material or where it came from. Most wizards avoided it like the plague due to how rapidly the simple handling of the rare material could kill a wizard. The only experiment ever recorded was conducted by Merlin, who in his journal wrote that handling the material for even two minutes had made him feel as if he was on the brink of death, and his core was significantly larger than most.

Which led Michael to ask another question, how did that singular shield even end up in France in the first place? He'd asked Tomas and was met with the most unsatisfying answer possible… nobody knew. According to Tomas, the Shielded-Tree had been around since the formation of the Ministry, and was discovered by the Auror department when searching for a place to develop their training facility. Upon finding the tree, post the second world war, they developed their new headquarters here, knowing that the Ardennes were naturally difficult for muggles to weave through, especially when this deep into the forest, and believing that the black shield was a symbol of protective magic. Thus the reason the Auror Badges of France were inscribed upon a similar black-shield design.

The heat that burned nearby also vanished as Claire flashed out of her transformed state, falling backward as Michael lunged just barely catching her head. "Four minutes," Claire whispered, "I managed to last four minutes." Michael flashed the girl a tired smile before he too fell on his back with exhaustion.

"Stamina is only half the battle," Tomas said. "You can rest for a little. When my company arrives, we'll see just how well you can implement your tool and ability if confronted… prepare yourselves, this won't be easy."

(Harry P.O.V)

Read movement, then react, Harry whispered watching as the thrall of Morgana approached him. Left, Harry's mind called to him as he sidestepped the jab to his torso by the rusty blade. Right, he thought stepping back as he sensed another. "Down, left, right," he whispered frantically beneath his breath, his eyes skimming from one thrall to the other, his head pounding from the sheer concentration. Behind me, he thought frantically, Shit!

Harry's body screamed as he pulled the sword from its sheath, just barely parrying the attack from behind as the cut caused blood to drip from his cheek. Harry lifted his arm, turning back, placing his forearm against the undead monster blocking his swing before sending the thrall back with a kick. Two minutes left, Harry thought to himself frantically as he dove away from the downward slashing swords. The clinking of metal hitting the ground rattled through the room before for once more the thralls raised the swords finding Harry once more. "Bring it on," Harry whispered.

A furious roar erupted from the head-thrall's mouth, the once-living man racing towards Harry with the speed of a bullet. Harry smirked watching the man's faded eyes, peering into the monster's magically preserved mind. Sideways, huh? He thought to himself, as Harry ducked the slice, placed his hands on the ground and kicked upward like a bucking bronco at the thrall's chest.

Harry rose from the ground, entering his defensive stance once more before he heard the Queen of Avalon's voice call out, "That's enough!" As quickly as life had been sparked into the Thralls, it had vanished the once reanimated men falling like a sack of potatoes to the ground. Harry turned to face the Ghost Queen, "Very impressive Potter, you've certainly developed well in such a short time. Perhaps, there is a prodigy buried within there somewhere."

"How much of that..." Harry said with panted breath. "Did you see, Lady Morgana?"

"Enough to see that two times the normal gravity is no longer posing nearly as much of a challenge it once held," Morgana said. "Your growth rate has been exceptional. To develop so quickly in only a few weeks, it is quite a prodigious feat." Harry squinted looking at the woman in confusion, "You are my student, are you not? It is only right for a mentor to praise their student when they succeed."

"I mean it is," Harry replied cautiously. "But normally, you seem pretty callous and well, cruel."

"As it should be," Morgana said promptly. "I am not a complicated woman, Harry Potter," The Ghost began, "Those who are strong, value strength, and successfully work to receive strength are worthy of praise. Those who don't value power, and continue to lie like worms in the dirt should be treated as such." Morgana smiled as she floated towards him, goosebumps appearing upon Harry's skin as the ghost touched his bleeding chin, "These past weeks have shown me one thing, Potter… you are certainly no worm."

Morgana lifted her finger, this time the fire was a luminous bronze, and as she placed her finger to his cheek, Harry felt not the searing pain of the purple flame or acidic waters, but a warm honey-like substance sealing his facial wound leaving nothing but a faded scar behind. Harry blinked as the witch removed her finger from Harry's cheek. "Don't look surprised boy," Morgana started, "I am the witch who re-invented the healing arts after all. I, of all people, know that there are many ways to treat a wound, though not all are worthy of the less painful methods."

Harry had felt a spark of anger in his chest, his body felt like it permanently ached from the 'healing waters' and discovering the fact that suffering that healing process was nothing more than another test was infuriating. Yet, Harry set that aside, a pair of kaleidoscopic eyes flashing in his mind, "Lady Morgana, may I ask a question of you?"

The ghost sighed, "One… you've earned one."

"What do you know of blood curses?" Harry asked softly.

"What do I know of them?" Morgana said with a smug grin, "I invented them, boy. Tell me what do you wish to know?"

"My friend, actually, I guess you could say she's more like my family," Harry began, "She and her whole family have had a blood curse placed upon them. I just want to know, how do you remove it?"

"Tragic," Morgana said half-heartedly. "I'm afraid to say there is only one way in which a blood curse can be removed. One must find a descendent of the curse, should one even exist, and past that, the one wishing to remove the curse, must bound themselves to the servitude of the caster as the cost of removal." Harry swallowed at Morgana's words, "I had invented it as a last resort of such. The magic drain of casting a curse at that magnitude would kill a normal wizard, it even left me on the brink the few times I used it. Some did try to curse me, but the curse only works if the person being cursed and the 'curser' are on the same relative level."

Harry felt his body tremble at the witch's admission, Daphne, he couldn't help but feel sick at the lengths that his girlfriend would go to in order to make sure Astoria was safe. Please, Princess, don't do something stupid. Harry couldn't dwell on that topic much longer however, as Morgana had once more demanded his attention. "That's enough time wasted," Morgana said curtly. "Come along boy, I believe your strength and legilimency have grown far enough to begin the second half of your training."

The second half of your training will be far worse, The witch's voice rang in Harry's head. But there was no backing down. He survived the first trial and he'd survive the second one too. Harry nodded, earning the faintest grin from Morgana as the Dark Witch beckoned him to follow her. Harry did so, once more finding himself wandering through the halls of the obscenely large castle, though after spending a couple of weeks as the castle's captive, he was beginning to learn the layout.

It had taken damn near 20 minutes to get to the next room, this once located at the top spire of the castle, the wind blowing from the open arches like a hurricane. "This is my meditation tower, or it was. The focusing of one's mind is critical to the focus of their magic. Before any duel with Merlin, I'd find myself up here meditating for days. Today, we will begin a similar trial. This activity will not only allow you to better control your occlumency, but also begin to detect foreign magic in your body. Understanding and being able to locate your foreign core is pivotal to your end goal so let's not waste more time. Boy, are you ready?"

"Always," Harry nodded a smirk growing across the witch's face as she directed him towards the center of the room. Harry had begun feeling faint, as the thinning air entered his lungs, the act of simply taking a breath began to feel like a herculean task.

"I take it you've begun to notice the thin air in this tower," Morgana began, "I designed it to act this way. The process of a calm breath is the keystone to strong occlumency. If you learn it under these disastrous circumstances, you shall be able to perform it anywhere." Harry took a deep breath nodding in understanding, "Now, enter your meditative stance; we're going to begin now."

Harry did so crossing his legs on the ground, straightening his back as he sat. Slowly, he brought his fists together before closing his eyes, releasing a slow and steady breath. "Good," Morgana spoke. "It seems that whoever taught you the basics of the art at least ensured you had good form. But good form is not even half the battle. Prepare yourself, Potter, I'm going to enter your mind, you must locate me, and shove me out."

Harry felt a cold chill float above him, before, much like what had happened upon his first arrival, Morgana had sunk into his body, his vision flashing white before he found himself in his twisted mansion once more. Harry blinked, maintaining his composure. There were few places he hated to be in more than his own mind, but he couldn't allow himself to be distracted. Finding Morgana was the priority, and he vowed he would do so. "Don't just stand there lollygagging!" Morgana called out. "Locate me, boy."

Harry placed his hand to the ground, his breath still as he felt the magic through the house. His magical signal was easy to find, it was his after all. Voldemort's was almost as easy, the mass lump of dark magic trying to break free gave away his location freely, it also helped that Harry knew where he'd locked Voldemort's magic away. But Morgana's was far more elusive. She has to be somewhere, but where would she be? What would she be looking for? My spell knowledge, no, there's nothing that could interest her there. Not my book knowledge either, no there's only one thing she'd been interested in… my past.

Harry stood, his eyes widening as he marched forward towards the endless hallway with door lining every inch. She knows my parents died, she wouldn't be there. She wouldn't care about what's happening in Hogwarts. Maybe Dumbledore? He thought as he peeked into the room that held his first encounter with the Hogwarts headmaster, finding nothing. "Come on Harry, think, where would she-,"

This is my brain, Harry said, These are my memories, they answer to me, not Morgana. "Which door is Morgana in?" He called out, watching as a door in the far distance glowed a light gold. Harry took off towards the door, Come on Potter, Occam's Razor. Though as he approached the door, he felt shocked, it was the room associated with his happiest memories. Harry opened the door, watching as Morgana viewed his thoughts. It was the lake at the Forbidden Forest, a white hue was surrounding himself and Daphne, their hands linked as the inscribed markings on their wrist grew. Harry watched as Rook, his crow patronus flew through the Dementors, destroying them on impact, unable to escape.

"A crow," Morgana whispered. "No wonder I took a liking to you, we share the same animal spirit. And to destroy dementors, it seems you have a few tricks up your sleeve as well." Harry didn't know what to say as Morgana swiped her hand, the memory now of him and Daphne hovering above the school on his broom, the night sky lit ablaze with fireworks. "This girl seems to be in a lot of your memories."

Harry felt an embarrassed heat rise to his face, "These memories are private."

"If you don't want me to see them, force me out," Morgana whispered. Harry grit his teeth, imagining a black hole forming behind the Dark Witch. The room did as he commanded the vacuum pulling at Morgana's gown, but the lady did not move. "You'll have to try much better than that," Morgana said with a laugh. "Again, think, this is your body, after all, I'm just a guest here."

Harry closed his eyes, focusing his breath before he clapped his hands together, a metal cage suddenly dropping from the sky capturing the dark wizard. Harry outstretched his hand lifting the cage, before with a push he forced the witch back towards the spiraling vacuum. Harry smirked, but it instantly faded as the cage began to grow a molten yellow before falling apart, the remains being swept up with ease. "It was a good try, had I been a lesser witch, the surprise of the muggle method of capture may have even managed to surprise me. But I am no average witch, boy."

"This wasn't bad for a first attempt, but your consciousness is starting to fade," Harry fell to his knees cursing the fact the witch was somehow still in control of his own headspace. "You must think Potter, what can you create to bind even a witch of my caliber to your whim when inside your mind. Without that, you'll never be able to capture this 'Voldemort's' core."

Harry's vision flashed white again as he found himself panting on the ground of the meditation chamber, his body and mind feeling numb. "Not a bad showing today, young crow. Your potential is vast, I only hope we have enough time to unlock it." Harry suddenly felt his body float in the air as he drifted beside Morgana, "Rest Potter, tomorrow we will start again."

(Daphne P.O.V)

The Drakes, Daphne thought to herself, the name had become a mantra in her head, The Drakes, it had to be them. The research had been intensive and their grimoire had been full of information. Her week off had been comprised entirely of trying to decipher the codex used within the grimoire, and another two weeks had been painstakingly spent combing through Greengrass History after returning home from her hospital shifts. Though finally, her off-weekend rotation had come around and it was time to look deeper into her developed theory.

It was a land deal, and if Daphne's theory was correct, it was one that had gone horribly wrong. Julius Greengrass, the last curse-free Greengrass, had engaged in some land negotiation regarding the Greengrass apothecary farmland in Blackawton, Devon. Supposedly, Julius had acquired the land for a price of 20 galleons from one Ulysses Drake in the Summer of 1630 a few weeks before Agusto Greengrass was born.

Daphne felt like she was chasing a blind lead. It had almost seemed as if the Drake family had vanished. There was no updated address and no record of Drake children attending Hogwarts. But Daphne prayed that was not the case, there was no alternative left if it was. She swallowed that though, as she felt the cool Blackawton air brush against her face, Tracey's comforting hand on her shoulder, "This is going to work; I know it."

Daphne nodded, though she couldn't say a word as she dismissed Dobby thanking him for transportation. Guess we'll start at the farm, Daphne whispered, her heels turning in the direction she knew the fields to be. Please, let this work. Daphne had been to the Greengrass Vineyard and Apothecary Farm twice with her father. Though both times had been to simply get an assessment of their yearly yield, an activity that she had grown bored of quickly. Yet, despite this, Daphne's legs carried her until the grapevines and bushes resting in the softly tiled land came into view.

It had felt odd to be back here. Her father had always seemed on edge during his past visits, and now, knowing the truth of this land, she was beginning to understand. Under no circumstances are you allowed to leave this farm without me, her father had always been so strict on his emphasis of that point. Now she understood. The small black shack on the hill that overlooked the Greengrass Farm wasn't some old historical landmark that Daphne had once believed it to be. It was something worse, if she was correct, it was the epicenter of all her problems.

"That's the house," Blaise whispered. "I mean look how creepy it is, that's got to be it."

"Merlin," Tracey said. "The shrieking shack looks more appealing than that piece of garbage. How is it even still standing?"

The sound of their chatter had faded into the background as Daphne took off towards the house without a word, forcing the two to call out to her as they followed. The hill was far steeper than Daphne had first imagined. If the Drakes did live up there, she was certain it was apparition that gave them the ability to survive in that house. Daphne's legs screamed as they fell to the grassy grounds, the hill growing so steep she was forced to climb on all fours.

Two years ago, the demeanor of such a task may have disillusioned her, but now only desperation filled her heart. Tracey and Blaise continued to call out to her, but Daphne had felt like the world had faded away, the only thing remaining was her, and the rickety-looking black oak house that stood in her path. She collapsed on the flattened tip of the hill, catching her breath through deep gasps as she turned seeing Tracey and Blaise finishing their ascent.

She wiped the sweat of her brow, pulling down her blouse as she discarded her grass-stained jumper wanting to look as presentable as possible. She loved Harry, she knew that. But she also knew she was a pretty girl, and pretty girls, according to the teachings of Narcissa, could be very persuasive. Daphne had done everything she could to ensure she was as presentable as possible after her climb. She ran her hands through her hair, curling it gently with her fingertips before wiping whatever dust remained from her checkered-skirt.

Upon completing her minor inspection, she turned to face her friends, "Wait out here, I can handle this. But if I start screaming-,"

"We got your back," Blaise said.

Tracey nodded in agreement with her boyfriend before placing her hand gently on Daphne's shoulders, "It'll work. Just be- be the Ice Queen that nobody could say no to."

Daphne smiled gently turning to face the black-door that stood above a meager-two porch steps. Well, she thought with a tired gasp, here goes nothing. Daphne took a deep breath, the calming air filling her lungs as she stepped forward. The wooden boards creaked under her weight, and the porch was no better, each step making Daphne feel as if she was going to fall through. The scent of potions leaked from the house, it was a certainty now that someone resided in there, all that was left was to find out if it was the person she was looking for. She closed her eyes, muttering a silent prayer before finally, she knocked.

"Who's there?" A voice called out, though it was neither grouchy nor gruff the way that Daphne had imagined.

"Uh," Daphne muttered thinking of something convincing, "Ministry of Magic! I'm here to do a census!"

"Filled one out last year!" The voice called out, "Family's lived here for centuries!" The sound of footsteps approaching the door had sent tingles down Daphne's legs, "Last name Drake, First Name-," The voice stopped as the door swung open and instantly, Daphne felt her mind go blank.

For years, Daphne had always imagined the man living in the hut to be a hermit, but the boy that stood before her looked nothing of the sort. He was tall, nearly six feet with a well-built frame, broad shoulders, charcoal black eyes, and shaggy brown hair that had been pushed gently to the side. Though more shocking than any of that was the fact that the boy was young, maybe only a year or two older than her. "Hello," Daphne said with an awkward wave.

"Hi," He replied as he brushed his hair, his brow furrowed. "Now, you are far too young and too pretty to have been employed and relegated to a job like census collection by the Ministry." Daphne felt a certain amount of uncomfortable heat rush to her face as he pressed his face closer to her, "The name's Kenneth Drake. How can I help you, beautiful?"

Daphne stepped back, gaining some space, "I came here to apologize." The boy's eyes widened, "I know you don't know me, but trust me, in a way, we're more connected than you think. Are your parents home?"

"Ain't got none of those," Kenneth said with a shrug. "Mom beat it soon as I was born, and Dad, well… money troubles got to him, not a pleasing story." Kenneth shook his head, "I'm afraid I'm all you've got. Now, you said we knew each other?"

"Our families did," Daphne said gently. "And I'm sorry to hear about your loss. I was actually hoping to discuss a few things with you."

"Do you want to come in?" Kenneth said with a winning smile, "I actually just put on some tea. Might be more comfortable explaining inside." Daphne nodded, following the boy into the small shack. Each floorboard was similar to the ones outside, screeching a groaning at every step. The house looked about ready to collapse, and the grim lighting of the place did nothing to illuminate the mood as she followed the boy down the hall barren of all pictures or joy.

"Aw damn it," Kenneth growled as they entered the tight kitchen. Nothing more than a stove and a fridge filling the room. Daphne walked towards the granite countertop bar that must have been the eating area of the kitchen as she watched the boy scramble through the drawers finding a pack of matches. "Stupid stove, damn thing never stays on."

He's not a wizard? Daphne thought curiously as the boy's match stick broke. "Here, let me," Daphne whispered, lighting the fire beneath the pot with a wave of her wand.

"Awesome," Kenneth whispered, "Dad used to be able to do that, made this whole house work with that magic of his. Wish I could have got the same gift, but-," He paused for a moment, his fist tightening before loosening once more, "Being a squib isn't all that bad." The boy turned, his face less animated than before as he forced a gentle smile to his face, "Thanks for the help uh-," He knit his brow once more in a puzzled look, "Sorry, I don't think I asked your name?"

"It's Daphne," she started softly, "Daphne Greengrass."

Instantly, the man stepped back, his eyes narrowing as a snarl rose from his throat, "Greengrass!" He hissed. "What the hell are you doing here? I don't have anything left for your family to steal so why don't you just get lost!"

"I'm not here to steal anything," Daphne pleaded. "I want to put an end to all the conflict that my family caused you."

"How can you propose a resolution to something you know nothing about!" Kenneth roared, "That farm was everything for us; it was our only source of income! We didn't have the money to send ourselves to Hogwarts, so the Ministry would never hire us. All we had was our land, and you took it from us! Do you have any idea how many nights my father would starve himself just so I'd have enough to eat? He took his own life to remove the burden he placed on me as soon as I turned seventeen, and you think you can fix what your family's done!"

"Please," Daphne said, her voice soft and calming, yet her body was on guard as they'd been pushed from the cozy kitchen back into the living room. "I'm begging you; I'll do whatever I can to help. What my family did to you was horrible, trust me, I know how bad my family can be. Years ago, your family placed a blood curse on mine and now my little sister is going to die because of a feud that started with our ancestors. I'm begging you, please remove my sister's curse."

"And why should I?" Kenneth hissed. "You know what story has been passed down my family for generations. The story of how my great ancestors came crawling on his knees to your family, begging for just the smallest bit of our land back so that he could create just enough income to send his son to Hogwarts, so that he could provide his son a better life. Do you know what your forefathers told him?" Daphne swallowed, not wanting to know, although Kenneth continued, "He said that a filthy half-blood like him and his son had no business attending Hogwarts. Purebloods were meant to rule, and we were born to suffer."

"Even with the curse placed upon your family," Kenneth growled. "They still considered themselves superior to us. My forefather was willing to end it all there, but your ancestors refused. To see you here begging for me to help your family… refusing you is simply justice."

"Please," Daphne whispered. "There has to be something I can do. I'll sell you the land back for a single knut as soon as I gain control of my family's income. I'll have my elf send you money from my father's vault every month for you to live. I'll do anything! Please, break this curse so my sister can be saved." Daphne continued, "We're all innocent victims in this stupid game. We don't have to keep playing, and we can heal from this."

"Anything, you say," Kenneth said with a cold and calculating tone. "There is truth to your words. You and your sister are innocent of your father's sins, but I can't simply forgive and forget. No, I must have retribution. Though, no amount of money, no amount of land can ever make your family suffer the way mine did. Only one thing will be adequate... only one thing will forever tarnish your family's name the way it deserves." Daphne felt cold as the man placed a hand on her cheek, "How embarrassing would it be for an heiress of the Greengrass family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, to sully their blood by marrying a filthy squib like me?"

"Kenneth, it doesn't have to be this way. Following this path of revenge, it never turns out well," Daphne whispered, brushing the man's hand from her cheek. "I have people in my life I care about. I have friends, I have a boyfriend, but I didn't always have those things. I know that you're hurt, and you're alone, but we can solve this and can be friends."

"Do you think I'm a fool?" Kenneth hissed, "That I would trust a single word that fell from your lying mouth. For generations, your family has done nothing but screw me over, and now, just because your sister is sick you think we can brush this aside. I gave you my decision. You choose."

"Kenneth, I don't want to make things worse. I'll give you anything else, but I won't become some tool for you to use to spite my family." Daphne moved forward, "I-"

A manic expression had begun to fill the boy's face as Daphne had felt her body pinned against the wall, her throat clasped between his hands, "Worse!" Kenneth roared in anger, "You think this can get worse!" Daphne tried to claw her throat free of the man's grasp, "I don't have a family anymore because of you! I don't care if your sister dies; I don't care that your sister is innocent! My family was innocent too and that didn't stop you bastards from hurting us!" Kenneth growled, "Your pureblooded ancestors looked down upon us, like we were lucky to even be born! Like we had no right to exist in the same word as them! And you think that saying your sorry will just make everything okay?"

"Kenneth, I don't want to hurt you," Daphne muttered out, her wand zipping to her hand, "Just put me down, we can talk about this."

"I'm done talking!" Kenneth bellowed, "I gave you a chance, an out, but you didn't take it. Instead, you wanted to spit your philosophical bullcrap. So let me tell you something, your sister is going to die in time, and even if I have to spend my entire life in Azkaban, I'll finish my forefather's work, and end the Greengrass line here… permanently."

"I'm sorry," Daphne whispered as her wand began to glow, with teary eyes, she sliced at the man's abdomen, dropping him to the floor, Scalpel, she thought numbly as she kicked the bleeding man back against the wall, her glowing wand pressed against his throat.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Daphne whispered, "But my sister means everything to me. Either you heal my sister, or I let you die."

"You're a stupid bitch, you know that?" Kenneth said with a bleeding smile, "Your hands are trembling; you're no killer. The hit-wizards that would show up to threaten my father for loan payments, those were killers. Compared to them, you're nothing more than a frightened kitten." Blood spewed from his mouth as he chuckled, "Even if I was wrong about that, you think death frightens me? I have nothing to live for anyway. Your family took everything from mine, even hell can't be worse than loneliness."

Daphne pulled her wand back from the man's neck, "You're right, this isn't me. I wanted to save my sister and atone for my family's sins. But when I see a pathetic man like you, willing to let innocent children die, you make me reconsider if you are even worth apologizing to. I won't kill you, but I won't save you. If you won't help me save my sister, I'll find a different way, or I'll die trying."

"If you think I'll just let you walk away from me, you have another thing coming!" Kenneth roared, the boy Daphne had met at the door completely faded, the bleeding man's heart filled with nothing but hatred. Daphne flinched at the sound of a hollow click, turning quickly as she watched the boy pull something from behind the couch. Daphne froze, her legs locked in place as the barrel of the man's loaded and old gun was aimed directly at her. "I will finish my ancestor's legacy," He said with a grin, "We'll both head to hell together!"

Bang!

Daphne screamed as the bullet pierced her leg, dropping her to the ground. Her wand had fallen from her grip rolling out of range, though that had not been the only sound as suddenly the sound of sparked matches filled the air. Daphne's eyes glared at Kenneth, the boy holding four lit matches between his fingertips. "Burn in hell," He whispered, dropping the matches into the gunpowder-clad floor and one right into the barrel of the gun itself. Boom!

Quicker than Daphne had ever imagined, the fire spread rapidly through the small living room they'd found themselves in had been lit ablaze, Kenneth's body laying on the floor unmoving. Daphne screamed desperately trying to alert her friends on the outside, her leg wound crippling her movement as the smoke blinded her vision. "Daphne!" She heard Blaise call out, the fire expanding at an alarming rate.

"Daphne, where are you?" Tracey called as she coughed.

"I'm here!" Daphne called out, smoke now filling her lungs, "Near the kitchen!" The sound of quickly approaching footsteps calmed her slightly and she felt about ready to cry tears of joy as Blaise and Tracey turned the corner, Blaise's eyes widening at the corpse beside her. It looked as if the two had a hundred questions to ask her, but they had no time. "Last Drake was a crazy bastard, shot me, and lit the house on fire after I didn't agree to marry him. Only managed to get my leg, but I can't move!"

Blaise acted quick, leaning Daphne's body against his as he pulled her towards the exit. Daphne watched on in agony as a burning support beam fell atop her wand. Daphne had felt her chest sink at the loss of her wand, she'd felt inseparable from the stick of wood from the moment she'd gotten it, and yet, in a flash, it had been taken from her, though that was far from the only thing she'd lost today.

Daphne swallowed as she raced after Tracey, the auburn hair girl extinguishing their path with a jet of water while Blaise worked tirelessly to defend them from the burning logs that were falling from the roof. The fresh air of the outdoors had never felt so relieving and yet painful. Her eyes gazed upon the burning building as it began to collapse on itself, the face of the brown-haired boy and the hopes he gave her vanishing like smoke. Dread began to fill her chest as her eyes tightened, her knees falling to the ground.

"What am I going to do now?" She whispered in a cold and somber tone, "That was Astoria's last chance, and I blew it!"

She'd wanted her friend to respond, to say that it wasn't true, but the fact of the matter was that there was nothing to say. "You're hurt," Tracey whispered. "Let's get you to St. Mungos and we can talk more there." Daphne nodded, though she wasn't quite sure of how much left there was to say. Daphne had felt cold, colder than she felt even in the presence of dementors. In short, there was hopeless, and then there was Daphne.