In the Shadow of Azkaban

Volume II: LXVI

Marat's Point-of-View
The Gaunt Manor
December 1895

Marvolo had ambled into my quarters while I fastened the suspenders under my suit coat. My eyes leveled out at his presence since he had been taller than just yesterday. There were only a couple more months until he turned eight.

His dishelved dark hair speckled white from spending time outside with Klein in the snow.

While I prepared for tonight, he decided to use his time building snow people and tossing handfuls of clumped snow around the yard.

When he peered up at me, I noticed a sheen of white covering his face as rosiness stretched across his cheeks and nose from the cold.

Since Morganna had left, he began displaying magical abilities at random times. Marvolo never said it, but based on that fact alone, he must have missed his sister.

Xilia was quite pleased with the effect, so she played into any moment she could to get a rise out of him. She needed Marvolo to act on his emotion.

She even followed the little elf outside today and knocked over all of Marvolo's attempts at snow castles and figures, and he leviosoed a multitude of snowballs in the air that flung directly at Xilia. He had been so enthralled with inflicting pain; it worried me.

Every day, he resembled his mother more and more. Her impulsiveness was not hard to miss, even in his form. She had always been vengeful. Spiteful. Evil.

I avoided his thoughts at all cost. I never intruded on my children's minds, if it could be avoided.

Small, golden cuff links rested on my vanity, and Marvolo picked one of them up in his fingers and fiddled with it.

I assumed he had been waiting for me to speak first, but he knew better. Proper interaction should occur differently. If one were to enter a room, they needed to announce themselves. I hated implementing Xilia's ways; however, he would learn from my silence.

Marvolo's shadowy eyes flickered up to me, and he prosed, "Father? Uncle Orion requests your presence."

I stood in front of him and held my hand out for my adornments. "Thank you for initiating conversation first. That is precisely the type of manners you'll need to channel for tonight. I'll go and visit with him."

I nodded when I walked past him, and he bowed in return. Good; his demeanor had flipped.

I pushed my way through the large, wooden door and slinked through the corridors, avoiding my mother's presence.

My dress shoes clacked up the staircase, and I turned to the right once I met the landing.

Upon my arrival, I noticed the door had been cracked just enough for me to flick it open when I knocked.

Orion's room sat as a blank canvas since he returned. His thoughts were plagued from loss.

"Orion." Flatness hummed along my tone.

"Marat." His dead eyes stared back at me. I winced when he brought his thoughts to the forefront of his mind.

Marianne would have been old enough to start her own family this Christmas. Perhaps she would've married into another prominent family; she would have brought me the joy of becoming a grandfather. My heart ached for her and her mother.

Orion's face twisted at the memory. His chest rose and fell at a slow rate, most likely to calm himself down. It hadn't worked.

Rookwood's smile danced on his face when he raised his wand and lunged at Lilith. Her eyes burned a green hue while her body slumped over. She writhed on the ground and barely twitched before she took her last breath.

Marianne had been so little, but her tiny self crumpled to the ground at the sight of her mother's lifeless body.

I ripped myself from his vision. I could not bear to witness her death again. It had always been a stream of his consciousness. He could never forget Rookwood's terror regime.

"Would you like to know how he died?" My jaw clenched, and I swallowed hard to recompose myself.

Orion's dark eyes glinted against the blanketed snow reflecting off the window.

"What do you know?" His voice was a low growl.

"I had only just stumbled upon the information. It was Antoinette. She never used Unforgivables until she encountered him. She drug out the Cruciatus Curse until saliva frothed from his mouth, and his eyes rolled back into his head. His death was excruciatingly long and painful."

My words created a special interest for him, and I could see the faintest movement as his ears perked up, "The last words he heard had been her whispering in his ear, 'You haven't the slightest clue as to how long I've waited for this. Your death. It was my favorite. And by my hand? Merlin knows I enjoyed that.'"

"Sociopathic. And he deserved every bit of it. At least I can rest knowing my women have been avenged. None of the other Ashwinders had discussed his last day, but now, I understand why." He breathed heavily before thanking me.

I returned to my business with him. "Any particular reason you requested me?"

Orion's face fell. "Yes, brother. Word has traveled that Iskra is with child. I am positive that mother has been made aware. Will she be arriving tonight for the feast?"

The color drained from my face. No. No. I had to warn her to stay where she was. My mind could not predict just what Xilia would have planned for her and our unborn child.