The River Servant - October, 2014
Nobody in the house ever came down to the river. That's the reason Corvus liked it. It always took at least half an hour for any of the servants to find him, and they outright refused to cross into the shallow banks as he did. It was an odd quirk, and one he suspected he wouldn't understand until Uncle or Monsieur Cornelius actually explained how protection magics work, but one he very much liked taking advantage of.
He frowned at the barrier, mesmerized even in his confusion. The current flowed through the silver wall dome that covered the property, not stopping or stalling or at all like the magic shields his Uncle showed him during lessons. During lessons, the rocks and spells thrown at him normally bounced off his shield, a feat he was told was greatly impressive for someone of his age. Maybe this was a certain type of shield, one of the maxima or modifa ones his Uncle mentioned he would learn later? But that itself didn't make much sense, what kind of shield would allow things through! Was it because this was an enchantment and not just a spell?
He was pulled out of his manic thoughts by footsteps, and he whipped around, already tensing in preparation to see one of his parents, probably furious with him for running out during dinner. But he was surprised. Instead of one of his parents, it was just one of the servants.
Corvus scowled at the servant, both disappointed and relieved that whatever guest his parents were entertaining was more important than one of them coming to punish him themselves. Maybe they would even be so busy with the strange man that they would forget his transgression altogether.
He turned away from the silent servant, already disregarding it, as his mind ceased its distraction and focused back on the man that had him running out here in the first place.
He knew the name Rowle, as his parents spoke of him enough, being one of the few other followers of the Dark Lord that remained loyal in his absence was always enough to keep his parents talking. Mother had always said there were dozens of families that supported the Lord during his reign, and Corvus supposed it will be awfully embarrassing for the traitors when the Lord returns. He was very grateful that his parents were devoted.
There was a CRACK from behind him, and Corvus whipped back around, to come face to face with Rowle himself.
He was a tall man, older, like Corvus's parents, with long grey hair and a spindly, thin look about him, as if he hadn't eaten much recently. Corvus didn't really think he could judge that though, as Father always complained about how thin and unsteady he himself looked.
Before Corvus could consider whether he ought to call out to the man or sneak into the nearby brush, the man had noticed him. He spoke, with a voice reminiscent of his mother's after a screaming session,
"Well, if it isn't the Little Lestrange boy, I must say, you look nothing much like your father, I was expecting more…" he bent down, and looked Corvus directly in the eye, "… red."
Corvus didn't speak much English, but he recognized the tone and enough words to understand when he was being insulted. His scowl, if possible, became deeper, but Rowle continued, "Now, our young Delphini, she used—," but the boy wasn't paying attention to the man's gibberish anymore. His focus was on the ever so slight movement of the tall grass, opposite the direction of the wind, and what it meant. He grinned up at Rowle, and yelled to his only friend, "the ankles!"
The blood in the man's face didn't even have time to drain before the snake attacked.
Corvus laughed loudly, enjoying the sight of the cruel man as he danced and screamed around the playful snapping of the large snake under his feet. His laughter was cut short quickly though, as the man began attempting to curse the snake. He yelped, in the language of man this time, and threw himself to the side in an attempt to avoid the man's curse, swearing that he really should have carried his wand everywhere, as Uncle said.
He toppled over, his dodge faulty in avoiding the curse, and he slipped down the steep riverbank into the quick rushing water.
He was blindsided by the cold. It froze his flailing limbs and took his breath, and when he attempted to take another he found his throat filled with cold, muddy water. The current of the water spun him around and whipped his back against the rocks, forcing out a gargled, terrified scream as he attempted to find purchase on the nearby rocks, his terror increased not only by the rushing of the water and the cold, but by the fast-approaching silver enchantments, for which he was forbidden to cross.
His fear quickly became startled confusion, as arms and legs wrapped around him. Thin arms held his head to a chest, a desperate attempt at protection from the rocks and current. The water whipped the two of them into a large boulder, and Corvus could hear the servant's gasp as her grip on him faltered. They kept moving, past the rapids and through the silver barrier as the water rushed around them.
It was only after the barrier that the rapids cleared, and the servant let him go so that he could pull himself onto the bank, he turned to her, coughing, assuming that the hard hit against the rock would necessitate help for anyone, servant or not.
But it was as if he'd fallen into the river again, as he watched her, coughing and vomiting blood and water onto herself, even as her eyes remained blank and unfocused. He rushed towards the servant-woman as she suffered, desperate to do something to aid her, but it was too late. She slowed, her coughing becoming hiccupping and then silent shakes as she attempted to breathe. After nearly falling back into the current, Corvus reached her and looked down at her pale face as it floated just below the surface of the water.
If only for a moment, she stopped, and looked at him, the pure terror in her eyes seeming to overcome the previous nonending emptiness that all the servants had. She flinched away from his struggling hands, even as she shook, her coughs becoming mad laughs as she withered under him.
But then she stopped and blinked, and the cloudiness returned to her, she laid there, silent, and did not shiver again.
Corvus screamed, louder and more dread-filled than he ever had before, at the woman in front of him who he was starting to realize was very, very dead.
-x-x-x-x-x-
His father backhanded him hard, and Corvus fell across the doorway, keeping his face down, knowing that meeting his Father's eyes would only egg the man on and that his punishment was already going to be worse than anything that came before. He'd done some pretty terrible, disobedient things before, but nothing as dreadful or inconvenient to his parents as causing the death of a servant woman.
The man just growled and stocked away, but the boy's relief was short lived. His mother came from behind him, wand held aloft and levitating the servant's body behind her. He had never been sure whether he should be more terrified of his mother angry, or happy. But now, her face was full of amusement, and he came to the decision that her happiness was by far the worse option.
She stopped in front of him, as he struggled up from the floor, and waved her wand around, in time with her giggles. It made the body jerk and dance in the air, the dead woman's wet head and hair flopping without care and leaving a dirty red patch on the floor next to him.
He suddenly wanted to throw up again, but mother just grinned at him, before speaking, her voice laced with amusement, "Our little Corvey's first dead muggle, I've never been so confused if we ought to punish you or reward you!" She continued walking, the bobbing corpse following the woman's wand as she finished with, "You’re onto your anatomy lessons already, yes? Because I think we finally have an animal for you to dissect!”
He threw up on the floor.