Consumption

The driveway was dark when Sirius drove up. It was strange to see the house in such an empty state when just a few hours prior it was bustling with FBI agents. The door was taped shut with an official FBI seal.

Sirius’ knife easily cut open the tape, allowing him to open the door and step into the dark house. He shouldn’t be here, but he needs to be. He needs to know that what he saw wasn’t real.

The stairs creaked as he slowly made his way into the victim's bedroom. Her blood still stained the floor, they had yet to send out the cleaners. Sirius looked around the room, at the broken pictures, at the blood-stained sheets of the bed. He was here, but he didn’t do this. He did not do this.

Movement in the corner of his eye shocked him back into focus. He spun around, looking for the source of the motion only to come up short. It was quiet, the only sound being the wind whistling outside, pushing against the windowpanes.

A shadow jumped out in front of him, a woman coming in view. Her hair was matted against her head, dried blood caked into the strands and the fabric of her flowing dress. Her eyes were frightened as she stood in front of Sirius, frozen in place from shock.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sirius spoke quietly, staying in place in the hopes of not scaring her. She jumped back, sprinting towards the door, Sirius reached out for her, chasing her out of the room. His hand latched onto her arm, scratching at her before she flew down the stairs.

The forest was dark. The scurrying of animals and flapping of owls seemed so much louder in the silence.

“Hello?” Sirius called out, spinning in circles as he took sight of his surroundings. His head throbbed, he felt warm. He called out again, no answer. He had just been in the house, with that girl. The girl. “Are you out here?”

The watch on his wrist read ‘3:14’, he had lost 3 hours. He spun in circles, the stars above him making him dizzy as he tried to grasp onto his reality. The stars shone down on him, Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, stood out against the rest. He searched for Regulus. His Reggie. Heart of the lion. Brightest in the Leo constellation.

“Why are we here Sirius?” James asked as he parked next to Sirius in front of the dark house. It was five in the morning. Sirius had woken back up on the front porch steps of the house, confused and alone.

“She was here.”

“Who?”

“The killer.” Sirius led James into the house, both of them making their way towards the bedroom.

“Why would she come back?”

“Because she couldn’t believe she did it.” Sirius sighed, Advil already sliding down his throat. “She came back to convince herself she didn’t kill her.”

“Is that why you came back?” James’ voice was gentle, like Sirius was a rabid dog, ready to lash out at any moment. Maybe he was…he sure felt like it sometimes.

“No.” Sirius said with a glare. “I came back to look for evidence.”

“Did you find any?”

“I scratched her.” Sirius said, looking down at his dirty fingernails. “I don’t know if there will still be evidence though, I guess I decided to go roll around in the woods for a bit.”

“Did you lose time again?” Sirius stayed silent at the question, instead leaving the room and going back to his car, James's right behind him.

“Why did you invite me out here?” James asked, his forearms on Sirius’ car as he leaned into the open window. Sirius stayed looking forward, his hands on the wheel.

“I just,” Sirius paused, finally looking over at James. He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears, “I just needed my brother.”

Dorcas scraped under his fingernails, flakes of dirt and hopefully, blood or skin, falling off onto the paper she had set out.

“She was malnourished, dirty.” Sirius was facing Dumbledore, recounting his run in with the killer. “She was deranged, something about her was off. If she killed that woman, she may not even know she did. That’s why she went back.”

“So, are we thinking of mental disorders?”

“There are many mental disorders that could cause this type of behavior.” Remus said from beside Sirius. “We won’t really know until we learn more about her history.”

“Their faces.” Sirius muttered, his voice didn’t feel like his own. “She opened their eyes.”

“Many killers like their victims to see them when they inflict pain.” Dumbledore pointed out. Although true, this was different. Her intent was more than just the simple psychopathic need to inflict pain.

“No, this is different. She was, in her mind, fixing them.”

“Facial distortion.” Remus looked at Sirius, their thoughts merging. “There are a few disorders that can cause someone to either not see faces, not recognize them, or completely distort them.”

“I’ve got something.” Dorcas peeped, her head shooting up as the tweezers latched onto a piece of dried blood.

“Pandora Wesia.” Peter said, his hand hovering over the mouse as he stared at the computer screen. “Twenty-three, has been reported missing by her mother for 4 years.”

“Medical history?”

“She’s been admitted to various mental hospitals for suicidal and homicidal behavior. Various psych and neurological evaluations as well.” Sirius nodded along as Peter spoke.

“We need to talk to her mother.”

The woman that sat across from Dumbledore and Sirius had a strange air about her. Her fingers twisted anxiously in her lap as she waited for one of the men to speak.

“When did you first notice Pandora was struggling with mental illness?” Dumbledore asked, picking up a pen from his desk.

“When she was ten and said that everyone around her was demons and that she was being haunted.” Mrs. Wesia spoke softly. “She believed she was cursed.”

“Do you know why she may have run away from home?”

“She didn’t like the town we lived in, bad memories. She had always wanted to leave, to escape her demons.” The woman sighed; she looked distressed. “I guess she didn’t expect for them to follow her.”

Dumbledore nodded, the facade of empathy on his face. “Her record says that she has visited multiple professionals about this condition, what did they say?”

“Nothing. After a while, we just slowly started to give up.” Her eyes widened slightly at that, like she didn’t exactly mean to say that out loud. “I don’t want you to think that we didn’t try. I really tried. I tried to be a good mother and get her all the help she needed. We traveled across the country, hopping from specialist to specialist, each of them promising that they could figure out what was wrong with her. I guess the fact they didn’t proved how little we truly know about mental illness.”

“She has Prosopometamorphopsia.” Remus said the second that Sirius recounted the talk with Mrs. Wesia. “It’s not necessarily that she doesn’t recognize people, it’s just that their faces are distorted. It’s often called Demon Face Syndrome because of how brutally it changes one's features.”

“She thinks she’s being haunted because one day, at ten years old, she woke up in a nightmare.” Remus nodded in confirmation. “Is it possible that she’s not truly aware of what she’s doing?”

Remus watched as Sirius paced around the office. “This disorder is often a trigger for various other mental illnesses to occur. When pushed into a fake reality with no way to get out, you tend to lose your stable state of mind. So yes, if paired with other mental illnesses, it’s very possible she is not aware.”

“How would we find her?” Sirius asked, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets and then out again, his anxious state showing through. “Is it treatable?”

“Yes, there are various treatments available. Finding her is trickier. She would like to stay in secluded areas, away from people and, consequently, her demons. Have you lost any more time?”

Sirius stopped walking, looking up at the doctor. “No. Not since the other night when I went to visit the crime scene. The headaches are still constant, they’ve gotten slightly worse. Advil isn’t helping.”

Remus hummed in consideration. “Maybe another visit to Dr. Podmore would do you some good.”