Welcome to Gaia! ::

The sun was high and bright on Chipping Clodbury, not a single cloud in sight to mar the perfect sky. The streets bustled, children running in delight, vehicles churning by, dogs barking, but there was one speck of darkness that didn’t belong. A wand of mahogany spiraled, casting an atmospheric charm with a simple incantation, and then suddenly, it rained. Dark clouds surged, seemingly out of nowhere, hiding the sun and causing the world to retreat from the darkness.

The shadow smiled.

Gold eyes cast a dim light over the street as he slipped by, fire pulsing in his heart and bleeding through his veins until a spiraling tingle reached his wand arm. Only days had transpired since that night hidden within the cottage and waging war against demons unknown to him with allies unfounded, but he hadn’t done a thing but watch. He couldn’t! It would have been too much—he never would have stopped. He couldn’t let them, all of them, see him like this…

The hunger starved him, he wanted it, he needed it.

He should have done it while he had had the chance days ago, instead of this, now.

But it was too late. He found himself walking up the long, manicured lawn outside a large manor, whose it was, or why, was unknown to him. He didn’t care anymore. Rain poured down hard from the skies, clattering down all around while thunder struck and lightning flashed. Within an instance, he apparated inside of the home, only barely noticing the name ‘McHalen’ inscribed on the mailbox just outside.

Darkness. It coiled around his shrouded figure and only those glowing gold eyes could be seen as he raced up the foyer, using a detection spell as he went. Only three people, good. He soared through the room, seemingly gliding on air as his black robes rippled around him. Just down the hallway, he could hear them, their voices were mangled and muffled to him, only the sound of pumping blood in his ears. ”Deprimo,” he shouted, his deafening voice jolting through the room as he shot his wand forward, a blast of invisible pressure surged forth and knocking Maggie in the ribs, crushing the bones inward and puncturing a lung. ”Lustro circulus!” He summoned forth a spiraling wall of fire, greedy flames of gold and red encircled the man across from him, Blake, and threatening both mother and father where they stood, charring and melting flesh.

..There was supposed to be another, but who, where?

The darkness. The fire.

He could barely see through chaos… But for once in his life, everything felt….

Right.

Where? It was all he could think, all he could envision. Another person, but who, where? Where?! Gold eyes burst, left then right, hurrying forward towards the dancing flames. ”Flamma frigus,” he growled through grit teeth, bursting headfirst into the fire, into the deep cavernous pits of red and gold that engulfed everything it touched. He hadn’t even the time to savor this feeling of freedom, of controlled power.

There, in the corner of his eyes, an eerily familiar figure darted just beneath the table, lunging forth towards the fireplace. His glowing gold eyes shot wide open at the realization of what this meant. No! He couldn’t let her escape. Wildly colored hair roared past, slamming down powder into the open hearth. He raced. The fire behind him spread, climbing up the drapes and manifesting through the walls, bleeding through the floorboards. ”Defodio!” He hurled the spell after her, bright blue magic racing forth and barely gouging a deep wound in her back just before she disappeared.

He froze. Limp. Livid. Suffocating.

She was gone.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around to face what he had done. The fire spread, far and wide, entangling deep within the furnishings of this house. Two bodies lay, charred, riddled amid pooling blood. Horrified, picture frames hung upon the walls, and the ones still intact told him truths better left unknown.

He knew the name. McHalen. But he didn’t know where. Staring at those smiling faces in the photograph, he knew instantly. Michelle… This was Michelle’s family, Gracie's family, the McHalens. They weren’t muggles. They weren’t defenseless. What’s worse….

Had she seen him? Heard him? His eyes, his voice…

Could he hide that? Knowing one day, she might find him within Hogwarts…….

He couldn’t let her. He wouldn’t let her.

But how?

No. He had failed, in every aspect of his life, he had managed to fail. Even now. He chewed his lip raw, bloody to a pulp. Waiting in this house of fire for a miracle that would never come… or would it?

A loud crack spun him around, stirred him from his distant, dismal sleep. That serene warmth of bliss that cradled his soul, that eased him and his heart. As if, as if everything would be okay…

”My lord,” he spat out, it had been—years—since the last time he had seen the Dark Lord. He must have been only twelve. Five long years had passed, and much had changed. He spun a simple glance over his shoulder, just one last look at the burning desolate building and charred photographs before he took Xilan’s hand without a word.