A blast, followed by the rumble of falling heavy stone shook him from his sleep. Screaming and yells. The sharp tang of magic hit hit tongue, burning his sinuses. Tingling through his limbs had him on his feet faster than he'd moved in years.
The wards had fallen. The suppression spells on his cell dissolved and for the first time in over decade he felt the rush of his thurmagy returning to his body. The sensation almost brought him to his knees. His mouth pulled into a savage grin at the rush of power, leaving him feeling light headed.
He barely had time to shield his face as the door to his cell was blasted from it's hinges. A hulking figure in robes of obsidian with a silver mask edged in engraved flames and nordic runes stepped into the doorframe.
"Time to go Brother."
He rushed forward into the waiting embrace, pulled from his feet, the yank of apparition leaving him vomiting into the grass when they landed.
Strong hands pulled him back to standing, the mask pulled away he looked up into the smiling ice blue eyes.
"Toshka" The giant breathed. His smile beautific and reverent.
A choked whimper ripped from his throat as he all but collapsed into his friends arms. Relief, joy and tentative hope warred within him. Emotions that had been sucked from him for years now flooding him.
"I've got you."
Those three words whispered to him, released wracking sobs into the strong chest. Thickly muscled arms banded him, holding him flush against his warmth. His friends strength being the only thing keeping him upright. Large hand cradling his skull gently, whispering soothing words.
As his tears abated, and he mastered control of his swirling emotions he stepped back to look up at his rescuer.
"He's back."
He croaked out. His once rich baritone rough with disuse. A statement, not a question. Fear flickered in the giants eyes as he gave a slow nod.
"In a manner of speaking. Well, you'll see soon enough."
He wiped his face roughly on the filthy rags of his Azkaban uniform and nodded resolutely. Soviet steel filled his spine as he took a deep breath ready to face whatever came next.
Only when they entered the dining room of Malfoy Manor did they part, with a lingering, but subtle brushing of finger tips. He took a vacant seat midway down the massive table, opposite Roddy. They had been friends once. He observed silently and subtly, there were still signs of life in the old dog. Good.
He rolled his eyes at Bella, eliciting a small smile from her husband. She was immediately recognisable from her hair and that laugh. That laugh had echoed freely down the halls in that infernal prison. His fingers twitched in his lap, sparks playing between his forefinger and thumb. What he wouldn't give to fire a curse to shut her up permanently. He closed his fist and pushed his violent urges down.
Looking down the table at the rest of the rabble being brought in. Inwardly he flinched meeting Alectos sharp green eyes. She openly leered at him, running her tongue over her teeth. He barely repressed the shudder. Apparently a decade in prison had not dulled her ardour. More's the pity.
He counted them off. Amycus, Travers, Auggie, Mulciber, Gibbon, Roddie and Rab. What a sorry bunch they were. All scrawny, filthy, weak and probably insane. Mulciber was literally drooling on the table. It would have been kinder to kill him than drag him here.
Bella's cackle drew his eye to the head of the table. He could see Thorfinn shifting in his seat, too obviously uncomfortable. But the sight of him warmed the aching hole in his chest.
He spied Corban, earning a wink from the Scot, returning with a smirk of his own.
He finally dragged his eyes to the top seat. It took every ounce of his control to school his features at the creature sat there twirling a bone white wand.
Completely hairless, skin almost translucent stretched over barely humanoid features. The lack of nose and ruby red eyes were startling on their own but paired with the cruel grinning lipless mouth lined with sharp pointed and yellowed teeth was truly something from an eldritch nightmare.
This was his Lord? In a manner of speaking is what Thorfinn had said. Bang on the money there miladshy brat (little brother). Adskiy zver' (hell beast) more like.
Now that the room was heating, the combined scent of his fellow comrades was beginning to become noxious. Over a decade of human filth filling the air. He stifled a snort at the delicate wrinkling of Narcissas' nose as her sister wrapped her in an embrace of faux affection.
Food was served. If he hadn't already felt sick, the sight of his comrades eating would have made his appetite vanish. Taking a shallow breath, he slowly sipped a goblet of water, refusing the wine. He picked at the fresh bread and speared a carrot nibbling like a bloody krolik (rabbit). He'd already been ill once, it would not do for the foreigner to be the one to sully the Malfoys antique rug.
After what felt like hours of pontificating and grandstanding from wizards barely fit to hold the title the group began to filter out. He felt, before he saw Thorfinn behind him.
"Toshka" He whispered softly, as if, if spoken to loud Antonin would disappear like a whisp of smoke.
"Time to go brother."