Shadows of blood
Though his mind was thoroughly occupied, Grey knew that he had to visit Professor Elks when he got back to the castle.
It was past dinnertime, hours since he had been expected to attend tutoring. Beyond the walls, the sun was beginning to dip below the mountains and a chill was descending in the air. Grey was grateful for Richard's jumper as he navigated the silent halls. His pace was slow. It was difficult to combat the reluctance in his steps when he knew he had to face his mistake. Grey was ashamed now for his rebellion, not because it caused his father anxiety but because, in the end, Elks had suffered for his stubbornness. The man had always been a sentinel in his corner and Grey hated letting him down. It was hardly any way to repay him for his kindness.
Upon arriving at the office, Grey felt a weight of regret cling in his chest. He had to take a deep breath to calm himself before knocking.
There was a moment of silence post his knock. Then, he heard movement and the door opened to reveal the charms teacher. Elks' face was tired but he showed no surprise upon seeing his student.
"Come in Grey" He sighed, stepping aside to let him in.
Grey entered briskly so as not to lose his nerve. Behind him, Elks closed the door and then meandered back to his desk.
"Sir, I-"
"I know why you're here." Elks cut him off hurriedly, retaking his seat.
Grey ringed his sweaty hands, resisting the urge to dig his nails into them. He waited for the professor to continue.
Elks sighed deeply as he surveyed the boy.
"I understand teenage rebellion, Grey, I was a young man once too," He began solemnly, "But your father was frantic today and on top of that you wasted my time."
Grey swallowed thickly.
"I give up my holidays to provide these tutoring sessions for you and to see you blow them off so easily, - I thought better of you." Elks chided.
"I'm very sorry, Sir," Grey mumbled, staring at his shoes.
He heard Elks sigh again.
"I believe you," The man surmised, "You wouldn't be here if you weren't. But I won't deny that I'm disappointed in you."
"You have every right to be Sir," Grey added quietly, still not meeting his eye.
A moment of silence passed between them and it was agonizing. Finally, Elks spoke again.
"You understand why you have this opportunity?" He questioned sternly.
"Yes Sir."
"Well?"
"Because I have no other options for my future." Grey recited.
Elks scoffed.
"That was before you had a family, Grey." He retorted, rising and approaching the boy. "You have options now, Grey. The reason you still have this opportunity is because I wanted to do something that could help you."
Grey glanced up at the man. He was smiling with an odd melancholy expression. Grey hardly knew how to respond.
"You have so much potential," Elks pressed, "And you've suffered far too much for one so young. I just want to offer you more skills you can take into your future."
Warmth began to banish the shame in Grey's chest.
"Thank you, Sir," He mumbled.
"You're welcome. If you don't want my help I'd prefer you said, but if you do, please don't throw the chances I give you to the side." Finished Elks, going back to his seat.
Gratitude pricked the corners of the young Ravenclaw's eyes.
"I won't again Sir," He contested, believing the words he spoke.
Though he didn't see charms as a career for him, Grey understood now that Elks was offering more than a fixed career path. he was confident he wouldn't waste the opportunity again.
"Good, I'll see you at our next session then. Go get some rest." Elks dismissed him softly, the accusation long gone from his tone.
Grey went to exit but passed before leaving. Turning back, he smiled at Elks and commented on something he had been dwelling on.
"Thank you for constantly having faith in me Sir."
Elks returned his smile.
"It's my pleasure, Grey." He exclaimed.
Grey left the office feeling much more positive. Though his regret was still raging inside him, his appreciation for his head of house had swelled tenfold. He felt truly privileged to have a teacher such as him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he got back to his room, Grey found a letter from Newt waiting on his bedside table. Pulling Twyla onto his lap, he eagerly opened it.
Dear Grey,
I'm sorry I had to hurry away without a goodbye the other day, I received an urgent owl from my assistant, Bunty, that the hatching occamys were encountering some problems. Sadly, one did not make it but the other three are developing well.
I hope you managed to sort things out with Albus. It seemed rather tense when I saw you and your father was very adamant about knowing how you were doing. I hope you've been talking to him.
In other news, my friend - Jacob Kowalski - is coming over from America to visit me for a month. I'm thinking about bringing him to Hogsmeade, so perhaps we could arrange to meet? I look forward to hearing from you soon.
~Newt.
With a smile, Grey refolded the letter and put it back on his bedside table. His eyelids felt heavy so he decided to reply in the morning. Twyla was already asleep on his lap. Moving carefully, so as not to wake her, he scooched down under his covers, relishing the warmth the cat provided.
He didn't remember falling asleep, but Grey prayed that he had. There was a peculiar distortion to the corridor he found himself in as if his eyes were constantly shifting in their sockets. Grey couldn't quite focus on what he was seeing. He was sure he recognised this place though. Despite the blank picture frames, crooked windows and rugs whose patterns shifted like a muted kaleidoscope, there was no doubt in his mind that he had been here.
Before he had a chance to deduce the answer, hands befell his shoulders causing an involuntary exclamation of shock to leave him. Grey tried to glance behind at the figure, but he couldn't get his head to turn in the way he wanted it to. His heart pounded in his chest. They were human hands - he was sure of it.
Behind him, the stranger moved, drawing Grey towards them. He felt the impact of their body and fought the bile that rose in his throat as their hands left his shoulders to encircle him, binding him. Cold breath caressed his neck, moving towards his ear.
"Look. Do you see?"
The deep, gentle voice was unmistakable. With cold clarity, Grey realised the distorted corridor was a cruel impression of Numengard. He tried to shift out of Grindelwald's hold but the man's arms seemed to extend like stretched ropes around him.
In this second of realisation, the corridor ahead fractured, breaking into three separate paths with such flowing elegance that Grey thought his father's silken words had written this change. Once again, he felt breath on his ear.
"Look. Do you see?" Grindelwald purred.
Grey's heart slammed into his throat. He did see. Merlin, did he see. He wanted to claw his eyes from his face just to remove the images he saw. The three corridors were not empty.
A whimper passed his lips.
In the right corridor stood the form of Arianna, as pristine as the portrait he'd seen earlier. She was smiling and had a wand grasped in one hand. Grey recognised it instantly. He could never forget Grindelwald's wand. The young girl raised the wand, never breaking eye contact with him, her smile only growing. Then, with such brutality that Grey had never seen, she forced the stick upwards, piercing through her lower jaw, through her mouth, up through her skull, fixing her face into an unbreakable, open smile.
Grey hardly reacted as it happened. Everything inside of him seemed to freeze up. A ragged gasping sound was all that left his mouth as he watched the red stain her teeth and dribble from her split forehead into the whites of her eyes. Arianna didn't collapse. As if displayed on a podium, she remained unmoving like a wax figure.
And this horror prompted movement. He was released as Grindelwald stepped towards the bleeding tableau. Grey wanted to turn and run. He was foolish to think this hellscape would let him. While his limbs began to tremble, he unwillingly watched as the dark wizard gripped the base of the wand and pulled it from its skewered position. He didn't bother to wipe the blood as he pocketed it.
Arianna finally fell to the floor.
Turning back to Grey, Grindelwald cocked his head as his elongated arms hung disconcertingly by his sides.
"What's next?" The man murmured.
On cue, Grey felt his head turn to the middle corridor.
It was like his lungs had been forced through a sieve. Every ounce of air left his body, even worse than when he'd laid eyes on Arianna.
Richard stood opposite him but he didn't even notice Grey. His closest friend was too busy clawing at his own chest, nails bloody and shirt ripped as he scratched at the mangled skin on the left of his chest. The sight made Grey's head spin with nausea.
"Dear me," Grindelwald drawled, "Seems like he needs some help."
Grey was rooted to the spot, unable to stop what came next. Like a predator, the dark wizard stalked towards Richard. In one swift movement, he forced the boy to the floor, using his elongated arms to press against his chest. The loud crack of Richard's ribs was chilling. However, the screams he admitted as Grindelwald ripped off his skin and broke open his ribcage were even more sickening.
Grey was shaking profusely. He struggled to keep his own screams at bay.
Kneeling in an expanding pool of Richard's blood, Grindelwald plucked the now unmoving heart from the cavity. He rose, discarding the body like rubbish and inhaled deeply, tasting the iron-tainted air. With great effort, Grey tore his eyes away from Richard. Grindelwald pressed his thumbs into the organ and ripped it open as if it were a piece of fruit. He pulled an angular black stone from its centre, pocketing it too.
Grey hoped he died next. He prayed he was his father's next target - anything to escape this ordeal.
"One more I think."
Grey could have cried at his words. He couldn't take anymore. Out of instinct, he glanced at the final corridor but to his relief it was empty. Perhaps he was to be the final victim after all? But the void corridor didn't deter Grindelwald. The man strode into the space and began groping at the floor in great sweeping movements. He let out a satisfied sigh as he seemingly found what he had been looking for. With a tug, he grasped at a piece of flowing invisible fabric, uncovering the final horror of the corridors.
It was Aurelius.
Mercifully, he was dead already, his skin the colour and texture of compacted ash. He'd been lying dead beneath the invisibility cloak. At last, tears ran down Grey's face as he was unable to take anymore.
Judging by the black ichor seeping from the corpse's mouth, it had been the obscurus that killed Aurelius in the end. Yet, Grey was sure it had been no less brutal than Grindelwald. \
Now each corridor had its corpse. Grindelwald had his hallows and Grey had enough guilt and pain to last a lifetime.
The bloody figure of his father turned to face him, smiling with the demented elegance of a wolf. Carefully, he wrapped the cloak around himself, becoming formless. Grey knew he was still there, just as the body of Aurelius had been. And sure enough, as he forced his eyes away from the three corpses, a disembodied voice filled the corridors.
"I will be The Master of Death, my son. This is your future."
The walls began to shudder and crack. Before Grey had time to process, he blinked and everything before his eyes changed.
His knees collided painfully with cold stone. In an instant, he was taking in his surroundings. It was dark, the air no longer smelt of blood, there were moving portraits on stone walls and large windows. Grey inhaled deeply as he realised he was in a passage at Hogwarts. He must have been sleepwalking. Pained relief flooded him and he sunk to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest. No tears came to his eyes, instead, he sat in a state of cold horror for several minutes.
The bloody images from his dream clung to him like sweat. Every time he tried to force his mind elsewhere, they crept back into focus. At least it wasn't a vision. If he was lucky, he'd never see those images in person.
But once was enough to have done the damage.
Inhaling sharply, Grey forced himself to move. The stone was cold beneath his bare feet and the sensation was just enough to focus on. He deduced he was on the sixth floor, somewhere near Elk's office. Briefly, he contemplated waking the man, but Grey dismissed the idea. As far as he could tell it was the middle of the night and he had no way of casting a Tempus charm to check the time.
Forcing his feet forward, Grey stumbled down the corridor. He was still struggling to breathe. Did his mind have no concept of what was enough? Surely he had been doing better?
It was all a cruel joke of which he had no control. The trauma and the terror of the last year clung to him like a malignant shadow and sometimes, even when things were lighter, that light only darkened the shadow more.
His feet were cold. As he wandered back towards the common room all Grey could picture was the veiled blood he trailed behind him.