Unfortunate

In the deepest chambers of Lavaothin Manor, under the eerie glow of runes, I looked across the table to my student with a wish I wouldn't have to kill him today.

A wave summoned a chair for my former apprentice, and I reinforced my mental defenses as Lockheart asked me, " Is this everyone?"

Careful of my thoughts, I answer, " No, Lebeau still needs to clear the goblins."

With an exaggerated look of dismay, Lockheart whines," Gambit? I never understood why you trust that thief."

I couldn't keep the laughter out of my voice if I bothered to try.

" Trust? We need a thief, and Remy is one of the best."

I knew that smile on Gill's face; he always got the same smile when he was in a fight. So with an advanced mental technique, I divided into my conciseness, introduced Login, and entered my inner world simultaneously. I processed my student's new power and began to inspect my inner world for damage.

My concept of the laws of the universe was senseless here; Godhood lies within the balance of soul, magic, and mind. There is a moment of darkness and a sensation of free fall as I appear in a chilled grey sky blanked in snow. Below I spot the mountain of ice that is my mind palace, a frozen island surrounded by an infinite ocean of ice.

A glance shows the wear and tear of the last few months, an infectious yellow liquid trickles over the mountain, and I can feel loyalty magic just below the surface. An angry scar runs the left side of a brittle ridge, as Charles's typically genital psychic energy faintly hums.

Slowly I fell in front of my inner world's lowest and most protected section, the chamber that led to my empty soul.

Masterly of thought represents the most significant challenge in this tragic experience called life. The brain is in development until a fourth of your life is gone, and by then, it can take years to free yourself from the trauma of the first quarter of your existence. There is no such thing as wisdom, just people that hurt more, thankfully long-lived magical creatures, have the time to recover.

My stride was purposeful as I moved past the ice barriers, traps, and hidden creatures. I made my way to the first of three chambers.

Scarlet energy lazily wafted like smoke filled the chamber with a texture of unrealized violence. Red Shadow is an abomination of scales, fur, and feathers. My unlimited potential for brutality remained camouflaged in the haze kept in line with years of willpower. I didn't have time to train my anger today, so I moved into the underpass on the far side and plunged into my cognitive cells.

To have power is to master yourself; to master yourself, you must submit details of your freedom for a cell. I didn't bother to scan the second chamber; I was not in the mood to deal with petty provocations and sad, poetic songs. If that part of my spirit were out of its cage, then I would have lost control already.

There are many cells in life.

School is a cage; children are a cage; money is a cage; each of these takes time, energy and makes you suffer to a degree. To not submit to this torment is to find yourself in a physical cage. You don't have the liberty to choose the limits of your nature, so, of all the parts of my mind, the most formidable is desire.

I desire ideas, people, ideologies, knowledge, and souls without limits. Even then, the danger of fear of desire is just foolish. Never lock your love away, less you never love again. Never imprison your wonder, or you will never have an original thought.

The architecture of my mind began to soften from hard-frozen stalagmites to smooth walls and floors as I entered my most emphatic prison. As always, I was happy to see the physical manifestation of my desire. Golden blonde hair, a perfect body, blue eyes so soft they looked like someone cut out two pieces of the sky, a smile that acutely twinkled. She stood over a table in her dress made of shadow and light, and her face filled with satisfaction as I entered her library of broken dreams.

I took stock of the room; with high walls and finely crafted details, the place felt more like a museum than a cave. The gemstones meticulously arranged threw out the halls, each a memory that dominated the space as opals, rudy, sapphires, diamonds, metals, every natural element, a lifetime of experiences.

Aspasia would usually maintain this collection, but today, she had an unanticipated guest Lockhart.

Now that I am aware of him, I could feel his presence like cancer in my body. He smiles at me as he places a memory back in a display case, a moment of introspection, and Thanos evaporates; half the life out of the universe flashes in front of me.

As Lockhart turns to me, he says, "You know I thought you were a fake."

Aspasia looked far too much like her son as she prepared tea.

"Your visions never seemed natural, but you have a collection of them."

The first memories I organized, the Marvel movies were in the center of the room, each incased a diamond. They were, without a doubt, my most prized positions in this world.

"Past, present, future they play out like movies."

The nerve of this boy.

I grab him by the scruff of the neck.

"Is this why you sent me to join the Black Order?"

With a wave to his mother, I expelled my student from my mind.

Back in the authentic world, I take a moment to review what happened in the last few minutes.

Logan was being difficult, and at every turn, he questioned and criticized anything I communicated. Gill was verbally ripping Logan apart because of this. Peter, on the other hand, took human form and talked shop with me," My wife couldn't understand Minster Malfoys inaction."

Peter was a coward who always had been and always will be.

"She campaigned to have you freed but meet resistance from the top."

The biggest mistake in my life was presenting Peter Pettigrew to Dolores Umbridge.

The idea of a rat and toad child haunts me.

"She is to run against him this cycle, and we hope to have your support." Beg, borrow, or steal Peter is a natural politician. He makes up half of a power couple in the British Ministry of Magic. He serves as Senior Undersecretary to Minister Malfoy with Dolores as head of the department for regulating and controlling magical creatures.

However, unlike Minister Malfoy, she was glad to take my money unaided in politics; that is all that matters. For better or worse, he could play the game, his friendship with head Auror Potter and pack leader Lupin saw him and his wife rise to power, and it seems they wanted to go all the way to the top.

"Of course, Peter, Your wife is a well know asset; she has spent years cleaning up the whole mess in the ministry."

Peter's eyes were twin pools of ink, as soulless as any demon.

"Yes, we're hoping for the best."

Peter was a master of funds.

He would first request help from the ideal person, then avoid persistent requests before a magical golden deal appeared. He was very well known for his loans and investments.

"Yes, Hagrid, we could even help your mother return to England; her being banished simply for being a vampire just is not right in my book." My adopted mother was kicked out of magical England for being a vampire and a whore.

I am rather proud that she invented the porn industry with her lover; she founded the Institute for Sex Research at Indiana University in 1947. I may even have to ask her for help with Rogues apprenticeship at some point.

I didn't want to deal with my stepfather anytime soon, but the girl needed the help.

However, as I look at Lockhart, I remember that even if my mother was king of the whores she was not the biggest, no that title goes to Aspasia. I never had the heart to tell Gill about his mother's past. I have never seen a worse case of uncontrolled lust in all my years than in Aspasia.

The nobility kicked Gilderoy Lockhart's mother out of the magical world. We went to school together, Aspasia and I, and were even lovers during my last year at Hogwarts. The fact that I am half-giant should tell you just how experienced she was at that time.

I have no problem with whores, and I always believed that men that want virgins have small dicks. The reality is that many wars were stopped and prevented thanks to a whores body.

Humans progress through five stages of sexual development, oral, anal, phallic, latent, and genital. Anyone can cross these sexual stages in a standard or harmful fashion.

There is something psychological in intimacy that has nothing to do with pleasure. To show yourself in your most vulnerable state and be found desirable is one of the oldest magics. There is no shame in a person who overindulges seeking intimacy with others. We all want to confront each other, share our pain, and see the ugly truth of the souls around us.

Love and happiness have very little in common. Genuine bonds are dark, negative, and evil; that is the only reason we need connection in the first place. To see another soul, the dark and the light, and to touch it even for a moment feels good. It feels so good that I can sense it on my skin. Sex is just the natural by-product of this desire.

The Hindu Kama Sutra, a magical text on love potions, desire illusions, and pleasure rituals, includes a how-to manual for sexual magics. There are rules on sex in the Muslim Qur'an, Jewish Torah, and Christian Bible, along with every human culture and religion.

Place, a beautiful girl with far too much empathy in a school full of sexually frustrated lads, is a recipe for disaster. Aspasia, nevertheless, was an empath with incredible hidden telepathic potential. Aspasia came from a low-income family and could not afford the required psychic training.

I found her in a broom closet covered in nothing but piss and cum. She had looked like what happens when the Gods are on a deadline. The painful part was that the girl didn't know the difference between sex and rape. Her powers echoed the desire of her abusers so well that she couldn't tell that they were not her own.

I taught her what I knew of the cages, the most superficial mind art. There is strength in self-imposed limitations in your mind, and there are no more vital words in magic than I chose this not to be.

With the insight, any creature needs to create a cage for lust Aspasia's powers flourished. In less than a month, she had firm limits on her desires. I do not doubt that had she starter training at a young age; she would have been the most influential mentalist on the earth. Her actions damaged Aspasia's reputation beyond repair, and she could not find growth or hope in the magical world. So her fate was banishment into the mundane; we kept in touch. She even helped me in my duty as my son's executioner a few times when a Devil was mentally powerful.

Charles soon filled that role, and like most childhood friends, we drifted apart over time.

So years later, imagine my delight as her meager son walked into Hogwarts with the same psychic potential. It took years to train him because he was as soft as the dream of a baby's bottom. In the end, he taught me what it means to be a hero, and unapologetically, I made him everything I wish I could be.

He was still an author but known for his fictional work.

Lockhart still wrote Wanderings with Werewolves, Voyages with Vampires, Holidays with Hags, and many more. I may have given him the titles as I helped him edit his work, but behind the fantasy were truths. He was not fast enough to save the muggle family from getting their hearts eaten by a pack of werewolves. The vampires ate half the crew on that ship, and I do not particularly appreciate thinking about what the Hags did in that preschool.

However, whatever his failures, there is one undeniable truth. Even alone, with friends, strangers, or me.

Lockheart was there, always fighting.

After years of work, I can say with complete faith that this world would be safe between my children and Lockhart if I die today.

I had even asked to adopt him magically to help better train him, and his mother had respectfully declined the offer. Even still, I could not have created a better weapon, not good or bad, just efficient.

I spent years on his craft to create the hope of a hero.

If he were a champion of the Octessense, butchering him would be, Unfortunate.

The alarm sounded as Login and Lockhart started arguing again; I stood and walked to the sealed door.

A smiling Kurt and a tearful Rogue stood in the walkway a few moments later.

"Father, we may have a problem."

One deep breath, "Problem?"

"Yes, the manor is surrounded by goblins."