Awaken demon from thy reveries
Arise to strain against weary soul
Excruciating, devour silken skin
Flawless face ravaged, dissolve in ash
Cruel voices, screams split the night
Wrenching hearts in crow-clawed grips
Suffering primed by thy own hands
Hollow winds bluster with rage
To see what thou art on the inside
Parading beauty, faultless slights
Deceitful lies, now cower in secret
Sickness cannot be contained
Severing hunger around thy neck
Tighten across weak shallow chest
Ice from frozen glades will crack
Breezes stale caress thy face
Waft across with gruesome air
As eyes roll back in thy head
Heart brutal pounding, sickening twist
Withhold no longer neglectful mess
Spewing forth the blackened pulse
Foul from the depths of thy being
In the moments where all hope is lost
Decay, heart collapse so breached
Agony, bereft once again consume
Yes, awaken the beast within
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Passing
So briefly, October rushes
the turn of the season done
it does not wish to hold us
but move the line along.
It does not keep leafy trees
and ripened seeds, so patient
was the work of sun and bees; and blossoms
petals that filled spring
winds now lift the shells of summer.
It holds not to captivating colors
nor the balanced chills of dusk and dawn
day runs a gamut of blush and gleam
we preview the idle gray
that will later stay to fill air
with white flakes and frost.
October runs a race
the hare of the timely sprint
and it is a tortoise spirit within me
slows to kick leaves,
notes red oak and sugar maple,
and wonders of longer days past when
they were piled high to make a joyous toy.
the turn of the season done
it does not wish to hold us
but move the line along.
It does not keep leafy trees
and ripened seeds, so patient
was the work of sun and bees; and blossoms
petals that filled spring
winds now lift the shells of summer.
It holds not to captivating colors
nor the balanced chills of dusk and dawn
day runs a gamut of blush and gleam
we preview the idle gray
that will later stay to fill air
with white flakes and frost.
October runs a race
the hare of the timely sprint
and it is a tortoise spirit within me
slows to kick leaves,
notes red oak and sugar maple,
and wonders of longer days past when
they were piled high to make a joyous toy.
Lullaby of the Sea
The calm cool waters of the bay
Are clear and blue by light of day
But as the night time starts to fall
The sea begins its peaceful call
As soothing trade winds start to blow
The moon brings forth a gentle glow
Its mellow light shines mystically
And glistens softly on the sea
Beside the shore the air is kissed
By cool and salty ocean mist
Where tiny bits of star light play
Across the waters of the bay
The waves then start to play a tune
While dancing underneath the moon
The surf brings every note ashore
To place them at the ocean’s door
And as the tide comes rolling in
The waters sing of where they’ve been
A lilting song of far away
That softly calls and seems to say
"Come dream with me my tired friend
Until the night comes to an end
And let me wash your cares away
Then rock you here ‘til break of day"
So if at night you look for me
Upon the shore is where I’ll be
A place where I can close my eyes
And hear the sea’s soft lullabies
Are clear and blue by light of day
But as the night time starts to fall
The sea begins its peaceful call
As soothing trade winds start to blow
The moon brings forth a gentle glow
Its mellow light shines mystically
And glistens softly on the sea
Beside the shore the air is kissed
By cool and salty ocean mist
Where tiny bits of star light play
Across the waters of the bay
The waves then start to play a tune
While dancing underneath the moon
The surf brings every note ashore
To place them at the ocean’s door
And as the tide comes rolling in
The waters sing of where they’ve been
A lilting song of far away
That softly calls and seems to say
"Come dream with me my tired friend
Until the night comes to an end
And let me wash your cares away
Then rock you here ‘til break of day"
So if at night you look for me
Upon the shore is where I’ll be
A place where I can close my eyes
And hear the sea’s soft lullabies
A Hero's Villanelle
With scars and wrinkles on his face
He shows the world he's fighting time
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
His youthful eyes they are intense and out of place
Sharp and handsome by design
With scars and wrinkles on his face.
Firm and steady he needs no escape
From climbing up this sharp incline
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
His face impassive, his features stone, he stares into space
But still he walks a steady line
With scars and wrinkles on his face.
His head held high in heroic shape
His gaze is piercing, his eyes they shine
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
Still keeping a relentless pace
Still smiling at the passerby
With scars and wrinkles on his face
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
He shows the world he's fighting time
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
His youthful eyes they are intense and out of place
Sharp and handsome by design
With scars and wrinkles on his face.
Firm and steady he needs no escape
From climbing up this sharp incline
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
His face impassive, his features stone, he stares into space
But still he walks a steady line
With scars and wrinkles on his face.
His head held high in heroic shape
His gaze is piercing, his eyes they shine
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
Still keeping a relentless pace
Still smiling at the passerby
With scars and wrinkles on his face
And beneath the weight he's carrying he runs his race.
A story. It's long, so if you don't wanna take the time, it's ok.
The blue and gold flame flickered before the young boy as a glistening pool of melted wax formed at the base of the wick. The molten puddle burgeoned, and then a tiny tear fell down the yellow shaft leaving a thin track that glinted and then hazed over into a dull sheen. He watched as more glistening tears fell, wondering if the wars springing up around the world caused such tears to be shed, wondering if they too left tracks that never really went away even after the burning. He thought he could see the tears in people’s eyes long after they had dried away, but perhaps it was his imagination dancing like the giddy fire sparkling before him.
The wind whistled through the windows and he pulled his secondhand school robes high onto his shoulders. His feet were cold. His ears were cold. His hands were cold. Shivering slightly, he imagined one day having enough money to purchase a decent pair of socks. The flame called to him once again. Finally, he was tempted enough to reach out his finger to see if —
“Mervin Falfax!”
His hand snapped back to his quill and he began to scribble madly. The last thing he needed was to be booted out of Groglesforn in his first term. Certainly Professor Tottlermeister would be the one to do it. Gosh, how he hated potions.
“It’s bad enough, boy, that I must endure the endless drivel from Headmaster Posternicus about your genius. So far, the only thing I’ve been able to deduce is that you never pay attention in class, and your favorite pastime is detention.”
He looked up to see his classmates, nearly all in new robes, looking at him with a mixture of disdain and pity. He hated pity. His thoughts began to darken, and a gurgling emotion began to raise its ugly head just as the flame glinted green and he caught sight of—
x-x-x-x-x
“Mervin … Mervin , are you daydreaming again?”
Bleary eyed, Falfax looked over at his mentor, blinked one eye, and offered up a weak smile. He stroked his auburn beard and continued to stir the cauldron before him. They had been working together for weeks and were still no closer to finding a solution.
“Mervin , you really must get your sleep. This can wait until morning.”
“Tell that to the mother whose son dies tonight out in the trenches,” replied Falfax, singly focused on the cauldron before him.
Snirot Qwister stepped over to the wizard seated on the large wooden bench and lightly squeezed his arm. “My dear friend, normal people may think this is the first war of the world, but it’s not; nor will it be the last. I have seen too many tyrants collapse from their own weight. It is only a matter of time. You’ll see.”
“And how many more must die?”
“People?” Snirot asked.
“Yes, People!” snapped Falfax, his voice pitching higher. “Do you think their lives any less valuable?”
“N-No, certainly not,” replied Snirot hastily. “I only meant—”
“How many wizards are born to normal people, Snirot? Their number grows every day. Who is to say that, one day, a normal person will give birth to a witch or wizard that might come to save the world, or perhaps their children, or their children’s children, or their—”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” said Snirot, holding out his hands in surrender.
The two worked silently through the night, trying to perfect the potion that would help render the war’s poison gasses harmless. Finally, well after the sun had risen into the morning sky, they were ready. Falfax brought in a small white goat on a short lead of rope, and flicked his wand, freezing the creature’s feet to the floor.
“I’m sorry, dear fellow,” he whispered to the goat. Then, looking up at Snirot, he said, “I don’t think I can bear another failure.”
“Neither can I, Mervin ,” said Snirot with a pained look on his face. “Another night of goat gumbo…” He sighed, and clucked his tongue.
Falfax levitated two small vials beneath the goat, and shattered one at the goat’s feet. A plume of yellow mustard gas began to waft upward, swirling about the goat’s legs. In that instant, the other vial shattered and a plume of red eddied about, rising more quickly than its yellow companion. Soon, the red cloud swirled over the yellow and then swallowed it, until there was nothing left.
“Yes!” cried Falfax, slapping Snirot on the arm, but no sooner had the cry left his lips than the red began to turn brown. In the next instant, there was a tremendous flash of green and the goat lay dead on the ground. Mervin kicked his foot at the wooden bench and sent the cauldron tumbling over onto the floor.
“That was much closer,” offered Snirot in consolation. “I’m sure we’ll find the antidote next time.”
Mervin Falfax walked over and knelt next to the goat he’d just killed. From all outward appearances, the animal looked untouched. He leaned down closer. The goat’s eyes were open, frozen with an absolute look of terror. From the corner of the creature’s eye, he could swear he saw a tear drip down. He could feel his own tears begin to well up inside. Only he wasn’t sure it was because he had failed or because—
x-x-x-x-x
“Professor Falfax? Professor?”
Mervin Falfax broke from his trance to see a young girl in blue robes holding a piece of parchment up to his face. The Transfiguration exam for the third years was over, and she was first to finish. He took it from her hand and placed it on his desk.
“Very good, my dear,” he said with a nod, and smiled gently. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The Eaglendor student beamed back at him, and kept smiling as she walked away. Falfax closed his eyes and tried to re-catch the thought that was tickling his memories.
“Sir, here’s my exam.” The new voice crushed any hope he had at regaining the memory, and thrust him back to the present. “I’m sure you’ll find it superior to the drivel you were just given. She only handed it in now because she saw me putting my things away.”
Professor Falfax reached over and took the parchment from the young man with jet black hair and dark eyes.
“Thank you, Tomas,” he said impassively, placing the parchment on top of the other with a sigh. Tomasas Ronflut, a bit put off that he didn’t get the attention he expected, turned on his heels and left the class. No sooner had he passed out the door, than a familiar face appeared through it.
“Is the exam over?” asked the man with eyes as old as the ages.
“Snirot! What brings you to Groglesforn?”
Snirot Qwister smiled at Professor Falfax and then pointed his thumb over his shoulder back toward the door. “Was that the boy?” he asked quietly stepping up to the front desk. Falfax turned to Snirot and his eyes relayed that this was neither the place, nor the time. Snirot opted for a chair in the corner and nodded off.
It wasn’t long before the students had vacated and the two men were alone in the Transfiguration classroom. Snirot woke from his nap and unfolded his arms.
“Well?” he asked with a yawn.
“Yes, Snirot, that’s the one I wrote you about,” answered Falfax, and then he chuckled grimly to himself. “I’m surprised he didn’t—”
The door opened and in walked Tomasas Ronflut. His hair was perfect; the earlier sourness that puckered his face had dripped away, and he wore an enigmatic smile that could warm the hearts… of lesser men.
“I’m sorry, Professor; I had one more… oh, Warlock Qwister! What an honor to meet you.” Tomas held out his hand, and Snirot graciously took it in his own. “I’ve heard so much about your work.”
“Thank you,” answered Snirot agreeably. “And you are?”
“Oh, forgive me, sir. My name is Tomas, Tomasas Ronflut. I’m a Constrictus here at Groglesforn.” He said these last words quite proudly, as if they held more meaning.
“Yes,” said Snirot, “I can see that.” The old wizard reached up and briefly held the green and white scarf that curled around Tomasas Ronflut’s neck. Undaunted, the young Ronflut boy pressed on.
“Your stone is most famous, you know. We studied it in potions this year. How did you possibly get the—” Snirot held up his hand and smiled.
“If you’ve read about me, then you know I don’t discuss the stone with anyone.”
“But—”
“Tomas,” interrupted Professor Falfax, “you had something to say to me?” Tomas looked up at Falfax and, for a beat, he was confused.
“Say? Oh… I’m sorry, sir. I’ve forgotten.” He turned back to Snirot and said, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He then excused himself and left the room. When he walked out, and the door closed behind him, Snirot let out a long, slow whistle.
“Unbelievable,” he whispered, and then he turned to Falfax. “And you say he’s gifted too?” Falfax nodded. “That’s a very dangerous combination, Mervin .”
“Yes, Sni,” said Falfax sadly. “I know.” He straightened up in his chair and took in a deep breath. “But you’re not here to talk about one’s fall to darkness, are you?”
“Well, perhaps I am, Mervin . Perhaps I am.” Snirot began pacing about the room. It was the most nervous Falfax had ever seen him. Finally, Snirot turned and said, “You know he has no intentions of stopping, don’t you?”
“Who? The boy?”
“No! Of course not,” Snirot shot dismissively. “I’m talking about the greatest evil the age has known -- Rostenfruster!”
“You-Know-Who? But I thought—”
“Use his name, man!” shot Snirot. “I can’t believe you, of all wizards, would put fear in a name!”
“Forgive me, Sni,” said Falfax with a slow deferential nod. “Nonetheless, the Ministry—”
“The Ministry is made of ostriches, and their heads are firmly planted in the sand! Rostenfruster was born of the Caucus Mountains, spawned beneath the magical lair of Firehorn, and has never washed the evil from his fingertips!”
“But you say yourself, he is only a wizard,” offered Falfax, “flesh and blood like you and me. If he truly does move against us, surely he can be defeated.”
“I was there when he led the charge to take Becherdamus. No spell touched him.”
There was a rustling sound, and Snirot glanced about the room, but saw no one. The sound was not unnoticed by Falfax. He too looked closely into the far corner as Snirot nervously moved closer.
“Rostenfruster has learned about Horcruxes. He may use them to ensure his immortality.”
“No one would choose such a life!” Falfax rejoined emphatically.
“Rostenfruster would!” Snirot snapped back. “I’m certain that if he could find a way to endure the light of day, he would consider offering his neck to a vampire.”
“Ridiculous!”
“In a year, he will have taken France! In three, all Britain will be under his control, and all who oppose him will be killed!” Snirots’ face was furious, his hand movements passionate, and his eyes ardent. “Mervin , I need your help. We all need your help.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“You’ve already done it.”
“But I swore… we both swore—”
x-x-x-x-x
Mervin Falfax stood on a floor of straw, his arm outstretched, but his mind had wandered. He had worked tirelessly for two years to get to this point. Finally, he was ready to attempt the spell on the goat standing before him. But his heart was not in it.
“I… I don’t think I can, Abe.” Anderson Falfax walked over to his brother’s side.
“It may have taken the madman longer than Snirot thought,” said Anderson, “but he was right. He’s taken France, and if we don’t find a way to stop him, he’ll kill us all. “Go on, Al. Give it a go.”
It had taken many sleepless nights to synthesize the potion that had, years ago, killed a similar goat. Once Falfax understood the common elements, and connected the magical strands to the earth’s energy, he began to weave the spell. Finally, he was convinced the spell was ready to be tested, but he dreaded the energy it would draw from him and the ultimate result of what the existence of such a spell might mean to the world. The curse would rent the earth’s natural flow and rhythm, leaving a gaping scar in its magical fabric. Staring at the goat, Falfax took in a long breath.
He questioned if a Killing Curse was the only way to defeat Rostenfruster. Yet, to date, none had been able to stop the dark wizard, even after he declared open war against the Wizarding world, and with each passing day more died. He rolled his wand between his fingers and pointed it at the goat.
“Kordova Kedavra!” he shouted, and an intense beam of red light erupted from his wand and blasted the goat across the stable. A hole the size of a galleon ran right through the creature’s heart. It was dead, and Anderson whooped.
“Woohoo!” he cried. “You did it!” He bent low to examine the goat, and then looked up at his brother. “Do you think it’s still safe to eat?” Falfax slumped his shoulders and then kicked a bucket with his foot and sent it flying.
“Aaargh!” he yelled, and fell back against the wooden wall. Then he whispered, “I failed.”
“What do you mean?” questioned Anderson. “It’s dead.”
“No offense, Al, but even you could have deflected that spell.” He sighed again and looked to the sky. “I need time to think. Don’t wait up.”
There was a snap, and a moment later Falfax Apparated to a miscellaneous part of Britain to walk among Muggles. It always seemed to help clear his mind.
As he quietly walked the quaint Muggle village, he came to a small sweet shop, Godric’s Hollow Candies, and stepped inside. The air was filled with the warm aroma of fresh fudge and Falfax could feel the saliva swell beneath his tongue. For a Muggle shop the confections were astounding: shapes, colors and flavors to tempt the most discriminating wizard. And when it came to sweets, Mervin Falfax was certainly the most discriminating. He was considering a large collection of lemon drops when an older woman appeared from a back room holding a large tray of turtle clusters. When her eyes met Falfax’s, a welcoming smile broke across her face.
“Can I help you find something?” she asked.
“Actually,” he said, eyeing the lemon drops once more, “I was considering— ”
“We don’t get many of your types around here.”
The statement gave Falfax a start. He reached up to his head thinking he’d forgotten to remove his hat, and then tapped his overcoat; everything seemed in order.
“My type?”
“Yes, adults who get as giddy over candy as little children.” She stepped over to him and patted his arm. “I can see the joy in your eyes.” She was flirting with him, and he enjoyed it.
“Actually, my dear, your eyes are—” He froze. Her beautiful eyes bore a bright twinkle that captivated him. They were almond-shaped, and sparkled a brilliant green. In that instant, it all came together in his mind; the years of effort were about to pay off. Finally, he sputtered, “Enchanting!” He held her face in his hands and kissed her cheek, then spun on his heels and headed for the door.
“But what about the lemon drops?” she asked. He stopped for a moment and looked around the shop holding it forever in his mind.
“I’ll be back,” he answered fervently. “I promise.” He then stepped out the door, the bell jingling as it swung shut behind him. A moment later he had Apparated to his brother’s home in Hogsmeade. Anderson was napping in his chair, some Celtic tune playing over the Wireless.
“Abe! Wake up!” Falfax cried. Startled, Anderson reached for his wand, and in so doing knocked over a bottle of mead. The liquid spilt out, spreading across the floor. Anderson cursed, but did not bother to take the time to clean it up.
“What?” he snapped. “I thought we were done with this business tonight.”
“Get up fool, and fetch another goat! I’ve figured it out!” Like a child learning to read for the first time, Falfax was filled with excitement.
It took longer than expected for Anderson to return, and when he did walk through the front door dragging a goat behind him, he was clearly agitated.
“Damn Hogsmeade visits,” he muttered under his breath. He pulled the goat in, but in his haste neglected to secure the door. “Ran into a particularly plucky boy in green.”
“Never mind the students,” said Falfax, not really listening. “They’ll be on their way back to the castle soon.” He motioned for Anderson to position the goat in the corner of the room. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier Abe; you just mentioned it. Green… it was green all along.”
“If you say so, Al,” huffed Anderson, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He stepped away from the goat as Falfax raised his wand with determination in his eyes.
“Avada Kedavra!” he cried out. A blast of green light erupted, rushed toward the goat, and the creature collapsed where it was standing. The two wizards stepped over and examined the creature. It was dead, staring blankly up at them with a terrified expression on its face.
“You did it!” Anderson cried out, and he slapped his brother on the back. “Can it be blocked?” The second question was less energetic than the first.
“I… I don’t think so,” said Falfax in a more subdued voice as he looked down at the goat. Both men were feeling the effects of the curse that had just been cast; a small slash in the earth’s magical fabric.
“Then Rostenfruster can be defeated! And to think I used to punch you in the nose when we were little. Sorry for that.” Anderson flicked his brother’s nose. “You know, Al, you may have saved the world.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Abe. It will take months, maybe years for us to test the spell to be sure.”
“We could try it on some of the spies we’ve captured.”
“Don’t be absurd. It’s a schism of nature; the Centaurs wouldn’t approve. We must—” There was a click at the entrance, and both of them looked up to find nothing but the closed door.
“Must have been the wind,” offered Anderson.
“Yes… the wind,” whispered Falfax.
x-x-x-x-x
“Excuse me, Mervin . Mervin ! May I borrow the paper?”
Visibly shaken, Mervin Falfax looked up blankly from the black newsprint to the eyes of Professor Merrythought.
“C-Certainly, Galatea,” muttered Falfax, and he handed her the paper, dropping his face into his hands. She sat down next to him and then realized he handed her a Muggle newspaper.
“A Muggle paper?” she asked. “Why on earth would you… Is it this article here? The one about the mysterious deaths?” His face still in his hands, Falfax remained silent. Professor Merrythought read the paper and then shrugged her shoulders.
“Strange, true enough. But why on earth would you care?”
“Don’t you see?” he asked weakly. “It’s as if Constrictus himself is guiding my hand.”
“I don’t understand?” she said, surprised.
“No,” he whispered, “but the new Prefect does.” Falfax looked down at the young man standing at the Constrictus table who was brashly showing off his shiny new badge. The glint striking…
x-x-x-x-x
…his eyes.
“Eez zat zee best zee Ministry of Magic haz to offer!”
The sun shimmered off the sea and sparkled in Falfax’s face. He was exhausted, surrounded by blasted bodies -- casualties from both sides of the war. But Rostenfruster still stood tall without the least concern that, like his foes, his own men had been decimated. He was about to take Britain; only two wizards stood in his way, Mervin and Anderson, and Anderson was down on one knee, crumpling to the sand. The wizards of Britain had tried everything they could, and still the onslaught came, wave after wave of furious red light blasting everything in its path.
Falfax had resisted all temptation to use the Killing Curse he had created. At Groglesforn he knew that there was a darkness growing that would dwarf that of the wizard now standing before him. Already the Chamber had been opened, a student and three people had died, Hagrid had been expelled, and rumors of Horcruxes and other deaths were swirling about. If only he’d had time to pay more attention, if only—
Another blast of red light came his way and he deflected it with his wand, but the nearby blast laid Anderson flat on his face.
“You zeem concerned about your fellow vizard, Falfax,” croaked Rostenfruster with a froggy voice. “Perhaps I should inzinerate him and put zee matter out of your mind.” The madman held out his wand to kill his fallen foe, but the spell never left his lips.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green light erupted from Falfax’s wand. Rostenfruster dismissively uttered a protection spell but the rush of green was undeterred. It struck him squarely as a look of astonishment and then terror spread across his face -- a look that remained in his frozen eyes as he fell to the sand.
Falfax walked over and looked down at his adversary as an ocean wave lapped at the dead wizard’s robes. He began to shiver, shaking his head. A hand wrapped around his shoulder offering comfort. A steak of blood was running down Anderson’s face.
“You did what you had to do, Al,” he said softly, as the gulls circled overhead. “You’ve saved countless lives.” A large wave crashed itself upon the nearby rocks, and as water dripped down to the tide-pools below, Falfax couldn’t help but think of tears -- thousands of tears.
“You saved the world from a madman, Al. You know that, don’t you?” Falfax looked back to face his brother.
“Have I?” he asked, pools welling in his eyes. He looked down at the terrified expression staring up into nothingness. “What have I done? It’s unforgivable.”
x-x-x-x-x
“Unforgivable? What’s unforgivable,” shot back Frank Snotterstam, “is that we’re outnumbered twenty to one! Anderson, pour me one more. Merlin knows when I’ll have another.” Anderson slid another mug in front of Frank, and the Auror held it up in toast. “To the Order!” Anderson held up his mug, but Mervin stayed stoic, staring into space. “Mervin ?”
“Did you feel that?” Falfax asked. “Like the earth itself was screaming in pain.”
“The only thing I feel,” replied Frank, “is indigestion from that meal at Rosemerta’s. I’ll be glad when Alice has time to cook again.”
“Of course they needed more than a Fidelius charm,” Falfax muttered to himself. He was speaking gibberish, at least as far as the other two were concerned. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “I can feel it in my…” He stood and stroked his gray beard. “I can’t say where they are, but—” He was suddenly jolted backwards, almost as if he’d been hit with a stunner squarely in the chest.
“I felt it that time,” said Anderson in a hushed whisper. Frank looked confused.
“Of course you would,” answered Mervin . “You helped create it.”
He was feeling suddenly nauseous, and the room began to spin a bit. When the earth quaked, they all felt the rent in the magical fabric around them -- a third attack.
“It’s the Hosfans!” cried Falfax. “Somewhere near… of course! Frank, find Alice and get your boy to safety. They’re on the move.”
With a snap, Falfax Apparated to Godric’s Hollow. The instant he arrived, he felt the disturbance and moved toward it, wand drawn. The Hosfan home was destroyed; not a single board was left unscathed. It might just as well have been struck by a meteor from the heavens except for one notable exception -- the small baby boy wrapped in an ash covered blanket cooing in the very midst of the disaster, unaware that his mother lay dead at his side. Falfax expected Death Eaters and found none. He expected to sense Tomas’s presence, but that too was absent. Trembling, tears flowing from his eyes, he moved toward the small child. He stepped up on the first landing of rubble when a blast of white light pulsated toward him and threw him to the ground. It came from the boy.
“Curious,” Falfax said to himself as he pushed himself up on one elbow. This time preparing himself, he tried again, but was again struck and thrown backward. “Ancient magic,” he whispered to himself. No wizard would pass this barrier, but Falfax knew someone who might.
He was about to Apparate, when he looked back one last time at the small boy in the center of the ashes. Whatever caused this was more than the curse he had created. Then, suddenly, Falfax’s stooped back straightened and his eyes filled with a clarity that none had seen in months.
“Like a phoenix from the fire.”
x-x-x-x-x
“Phoenix! Forgive me, Headmaster, but do you mind if I tell you YOU’RE INSANE!”
Noxirini Kastran paced the Headmaster’s office as Falfax stroked Fawkes with his good hand, the other blackened and shriveled. The aged wizard was lost in thought, oblivious to Kastran’s protestations.
“Not to mention,” Kastran continued, “what will happen to me if it fails!”
“It will not fail,” whispered Falfax, still stroking the bird.
“Sir, it’s one thing for a magical creature like a Phoenix to swallow the Avada Kedavra curse; it’s a far greater matter for a wizard… an ill wizard,” he emphasized, looking at the Headmaster’s hand, “to capture the curse.”
“And you would know this how?” asked Falfax, narrowing his eyes at the Constrictus Head of House.
“You know why,” spat Kastran. “I’ve used it!” He said these words without pride, more with a sense of defeat. He turned away, looking at the various silver instruments that lined one particularly dusty shelf. Falfax walked over and took his arm.
“Noxirini,” he said hoarsely, “I created it!”
In all the world, there were only a handful of wizards that knew the true source of the Killing Curse, and this information was obviously news to Kastran. He spun to look at Falfax.
“I thought the Dark—”
“He stole it from me,” answered Falfax, and now it was his voice that was defeated. “Or, perhaps, I taught it to him.” He walked over and sat at his desk, pondering the darkened hand before him. “There is no one that knows the nature of this abomination better than me. Since the death of the Hosfans I’ve known there was a way to defeat the evil I created, the darkness I unleashed on the world. I may not be able to close Pandora’s box, but I can destroy it.” He leaned forward and held Kastran’s eyes in his own. “Who better than me to determine if I’m right, and who better than you to deliver the blow?”
“But Hosfan, certainly—”
“He must not know. His link with Bostrini is too great. If the plan is to work, he must never know.”
“And if I’m not the first to make it to you? What if Dominic—”
“You know as well as I do where his heart lies, and it is not with his father.”
The blood began to drain from Kastran’s face, and he shook his head. “No, I won’t do it! I can’t do it!”
“Noxirini… please…”
x-x-x-x-x
A flash of green and now only the shining skull blazing in the stars above.
Falling… falling…
They say, when a person dies, their life passes before their eyes. For Mervin Falfax, that vision swept before him when he ran into the Mirror of Erised earlier in the day. He was heading to the entrance hall to meet Dige , and somehow found himself in a deserted storage room. He knew at once what the dusty white canvas covered, and on any other day he would have turned around without a second thought. Only today he reached out his hand and pulled loose the canvas to reveal the image, at first, of an aged wizard with a withered hand.
The image changed to a small child, warm and filled with wonder at the world around him -- a world without war; a world where candles dripped etched designs of beauty, not tears; a world where mustard made good curry and nothing more; a world where Snirot and Mervin challenged each other at chess, never mentioning Horcruxes or Killing Curses; a world with no such extracurricular experiments for Tomasas Ronflut to learn his dark craft -- skills taught by the very wizard that brought him to Groglesforn. Mervin Falfax saw a beautiful woman and was able to love her green eyes in all their emerald splendor, and this time kept the promise he had forsaken. For a long, deep breath he savored the moment and then turned his back on the mirror.
That future would lead to other wars, other hatreds. That future would not contain the shining hope of the present generation -- the boy left behind on the battlements above, the young man who showed him how to live once again, the man who showed him how to die.
The last thing he heard was the tearful cry of Fawkes -- the risen Phoenix.
The wind whistled through the windows and he pulled his secondhand school robes high onto his shoulders. His feet were cold. His ears were cold. His hands were cold. Shivering slightly, he imagined one day having enough money to purchase a decent pair of socks. The flame called to him once again. Finally, he was tempted enough to reach out his finger to see if —
“Mervin Falfax!”
His hand snapped back to his quill and he began to scribble madly. The last thing he needed was to be booted out of Groglesforn in his first term. Certainly Professor Tottlermeister would be the one to do it. Gosh, how he hated potions.
“It’s bad enough, boy, that I must endure the endless drivel from Headmaster Posternicus about your genius. So far, the only thing I’ve been able to deduce is that you never pay attention in class, and your favorite pastime is detention.”
He looked up to see his classmates, nearly all in new robes, looking at him with a mixture of disdain and pity. He hated pity. His thoughts began to darken, and a gurgling emotion began to raise its ugly head just as the flame glinted green and he caught sight of—
x-x-x-x-x
“Mervin … Mervin , are you daydreaming again?”
Bleary eyed, Falfax looked over at his mentor, blinked one eye, and offered up a weak smile. He stroked his auburn beard and continued to stir the cauldron before him. They had been working together for weeks and were still no closer to finding a solution.
“Mervin , you really must get your sleep. This can wait until morning.”
“Tell that to the mother whose son dies tonight out in the trenches,” replied Falfax, singly focused on the cauldron before him.
Snirot Qwister stepped over to the wizard seated on the large wooden bench and lightly squeezed his arm. “My dear friend, normal people may think this is the first war of the world, but it’s not; nor will it be the last. I have seen too many tyrants collapse from their own weight. It is only a matter of time. You’ll see.”
“And how many more must die?”
“People?” Snirot asked.
“Yes, People!” snapped Falfax, his voice pitching higher. “Do you think their lives any less valuable?”
“N-No, certainly not,” replied Snirot hastily. “I only meant—”
“How many wizards are born to normal people, Snirot? Their number grows every day. Who is to say that, one day, a normal person will give birth to a witch or wizard that might come to save the world, or perhaps their children, or their children’s children, or their—”
“Yes, yes, I understand,” said Snirot, holding out his hands in surrender.
The two worked silently through the night, trying to perfect the potion that would help render the war’s poison gasses harmless. Finally, well after the sun had risen into the morning sky, they were ready. Falfax brought in a small white goat on a short lead of rope, and flicked his wand, freezing the creature’s feet to the floor.
“I’m sorry, dear fellow,” he whispered to the goat. Then, looking up at Snirot, he said, “I don’t think I can bear another failure.”
“Neither can I, Mervin ,” said Snirot with a pained look on his face. “Another night of goat gumbo…” He sighed, and clucked his tongue.
Falfax levitated two small vials beneath the goat, and shattered one at the goat’s feet. A plume of yellow mustard gas began to waft upward, swirling about the goat’s legs. In that instant, the other vial shattered and a plume of red eddied about, rising more quickly than its yellow companion. Soon, the red cloud swirled over the yellow and then swallowed it, until there was nothing left.
“Yes!” cried Falfax, slapping Snirot on the arm, but no sooner had the cry left his lips than the red began to turn brown. In the next instant, there was a tremendous flash of green and the goat lay dead on the ground. Mervin kicked his foot at the wooden bench and sent the cauldron tumbling over onto the floor.
“That was much closer,” offered Snirot in consolation. “I’m sure we’ll find the antidote next time.”
Mervin Falfax walked over and knelt next to the goat he’d just killed. From all outward appearances, the animal looked untouched. He leaned down closer. The goat’s eyes were open, frozen with an absolute look of terror. From the corner of the creature’s eye, he could swear he saw a tear drip down. He could feel his own tears begin to well up inside. Only he wasn’t sure it was because he had failed or because—
x-x-x-x-x
“Professor Falfax? Professor?”
Mervin Falfax broke from his trance to see a young girl in blue robes holding a piece of parchment up to his face. The Transfiguration exam for the third years was over, and she was first to finish. He took it from her hand and placed it on his desk.
“Very good, my dear,” he said with a nod, and smiled gently. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The Eaglendor student beamed back at him, and kept smiling as she walked away. Falfax closed his eyes and tried to re-catch the thought that was tickling his memories.
“Sir, here’s my exam.” The new voice crushed any hope he had at regaining the memory, and thrust him back to the present. “I’m sure you’ll find it superior to the drivel you were just given. She only handed it in now because she saw me putting my things away.”
Professor Falfax reached over and took the parchment from the young man with jet black hair and dark eyes.
“Thank you, Tomas,” he said impassively, placing the parchment on top of the other with a sigh. Tomasas Ronflut, a bit put off that he didn’t get the attention he expected, turned on his heels and left the class. No sooner had he passed out the door, than a familiar face appeared through it.
“Is the exam over?” asked the man with eyes as old as the ages.
“Snirot! What brings you to Groglesforn?”
Snirot Qwister smiled at Professor Falfax and then pointed his thumb over his shoulder back toward the door. “Was that the boy?” he asked quietly stepping up to the front desk. Falfax turned to Snirot and his eyes relayed that this was neither the place, nor the time. Snirot opted for a chair in the corner and nodded off.
It wasn’t long before the students had vacated and the two men were alone in the Transfiguration classroom. Snirot woke from his nap and unfolded his arms.
“Well?” he asked with a yawn.
“Yes, Snirot, that’s the one I wrote you about,” answered Falfax, and then he chuckled grimly to himself. “I’m surprised he didn’t—”
The door opened and in walked Tomasas Ronflut. His hair was perfect; the earlier sourness that puckered his face had dripped away, and he wore an enigmatic smile that could warm the hearts… of lesser men.
“I’m sorry, Professor; I had one more… oh, Warlock Qwister! What an honor to meet you.” Tomas held out his hand, and Snirot graciously took it in his own. “I’ve heard so much about your work.”
“Thank you,” answered Snirot agreeably. “And you are?”
“Oh, forgive me, sir. My name is Tomas, Tomasas Ronflut. I’m a Constrictus here at Groglesforn.” He said these last words quite proudly, as if they held more meaning.
“Yes,” said Snirot, “I can see that.” The old wizard reached up and briefly held the green and white scarf that curled around Tomasas Ronflut’s neck. Undaunted, the young Ronflut boy pressed on.
“Your stone is most famous, you know. We studied it in potions this year. How did you possibly get the—” Snirot held up his hand and smiled.
“If you’ve read about me, then you know I don’t discuss the stone with anyone.”
“But—”
“Tomas,” interrupted Professor Falfax, “you had something to say to me?” Tomas looked up at Falfax and, for a beat, he was confused.
“Say? Oh… I’m sorry, sir. I’ve forgotten.” He turned back to Snirot and said, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He then excused himself and left the room. When he walked out, and the door closed behind him, Snirot let out a long, slow whistle.
“Unbelievable,” he whispered, and then he turned to Falfax. “And you say he’s gifted too?” Falfax nodded. “That’s a very dangerous combination, Mervin .”
“Yes, Sni,” said Falfax sadly. “I know.” He straightened up in his chair and took in a deep breath. “But you’re not here to talk about one’s fall to darkness, are you?”
“Well, perhaps I am, Mervin . Perhaps I am.” Snirot began pacing about the room. It was the most nervous Falfax had ever seen him. Finally, Snirot turned and said, “You know he has no intentions of stopping, don’t you?”
“Who? The boy?”
“No! Of course not,” Snirot shot dismissively. “I’m talking about the greatest evil the age has known -- Rostenfruster!”
“You-Know-Who? But I thought—”
“Use his name, man!” shot Snirot. “I can’t believe you, of all wizards, would put fear in a name!”
“Forgive me, Sni,” said Falfax with a slow deferential nod. “Nonetheless, the Ministry—”
“The Ministry is made of ostriches, and their heads are firmly planted in the sand! Rostenfruster was born of the Caucus Mountains, spawned beneath the magical lair of Firehorn, and has never washed the evil from his fingertips!”
“But you say yourself, he is only a wizard,” offered Falfax, “flesh and blood like you and me. If he truly does move against us, surely he can be defeated.”
“I was there when he led the charge to take Becherdamus. No spell touched him.”
There was a rustling sound, and Snirot glanced about the room, but saw no one. The sound was not unnoticed by Falfax. He too looked closely into the far corner as Snirot nervously moved closer.
“Rostenfruster has learned about Horcruxes. He may use them to ensure his immortality.”
“No one would choose such a life!” Falfax rejoined emphatically.
“Rostenfruster would!” Snirot snapped back. “I’m certain that if he could find a way to endure the light of day, he would consider offering his neck to a vampire.”
“Ridiculous!”
“In a year, he will have taken France! In three, all Britain will be under his control, and all who oppose him will be killed!” Snirots’ face was furious, his hand movements passionate, and his eyes ardent. “Mervin , I need your help. We all need your help.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“You’ve already done it.”
“But I swore… we both swore—”
x-x-x-x-x
Mervin Falfax stood on a floor of straw, his arm outstretched, but his mind had wandered. He had worked tirelessly for two years to get to this point. Finally, he was ready to attempt the spell on the goat standing before him. But his heart was not in it.
“I… I don’t think I can, Abe.” Anderson Falfax walked over to his brother’s side.
“It may have taken the madman longer than Snirot thought,” said Anderson, “but he was right. He’s taken France, and if we don’t find a way to stop him, he’ll kill us all. “Go on, Al. Give it a go.”
It had taken many sleepless nights to synthesize the potion that had, years ago, killed a similar goat. Once Falfax understood the common elements, and connected the magical strands to the earth’s energy, he began to weave the spell. Finally, he was convinced the spell was ready to be tested, but he dreaded the energy it would draw from him and the ultimate result of what the existence of such a spell might mean to the world. The curse would rent the earth’s natural flow and rhythm, leaving a gaping scar in its magical fabric. Staring at the goat, Falfax took in a long breath.
He questioned if a Killing Curse was the only way to defeat Rostenfruster. Yet, to date, none had been able to stop the dark wizard, even after he declared open war against the Wizarding world, and with each passing day more died. He rolled his wand between his fingers and pointed it at the goat.
“Kordova Kedavra!” he shouted, and an intense beam of red light erupted from his wand and blasted the goat across the stable. A hole the size of a galleon ran right through the creature’s heart. It was dead, and Anderson whooped.
“Woohoo!” he cried. “You did it!” He bent low to examine the goat, and then looked up at his brother. “Do you think it’s still safe to eat?” Falfax slumped his shoulders and then kicked a bucket with his foot and sent it flying.
“Aaargh!” he yelled, and fell back against the wooden wall. Then he whispered, “I failed.”
“What do you mean?” questioned Anderson. “It’s dead.”
“No offense, Al, but even you could have deflected that spell.” He sighed again and looked to the sky. “I need time to think. Don’t wait up.”
There was a snap, and a moment later Falfax Apparated to a miscellaneous part of Britain to walk among Muggles. It always seemed to help clear his mind.
As he quietly walked the quaint Muggle village, he came to a small sweet shop, Godric’s Hollow Candies, and stepped inside. The air was filled with the warm aroma of fresh fudge and Falfax could feel the saliva swell beneath his tongue. For a Muggle shop the confections were astounding: shapes, colors and flavors to tempt the most discriminating wizard. And when it came to sweets, Mervin Falfax was certainly the most discriminating. He was considering a large collection of lemon drops when an older woman appeared from a back room holding a large tray of turtle clusters. When her eyes met Falfax’s, a welcoming smile broke across her face.
“Can I help you find something?” she asked.
“Actually,” he said, eyeing the lemon drops once more, “I was considering— ”
“We don’t get many of your types around here.”
The statement gave Falfax a start. He reached up to his head thinking he’d forgotten to remove his hat, and then tapped his overcoat; everything seemed in order.
“My type?”
“Yes, adults who get as giddy over candy as little children.” She stepped over to him and patted his arm. “I can see the joy in your eyes.” She was flirting with him, and he enjoyed it.
“Actually, my dear, your eyes are—” He froze. Her beautiful eyes bore a bright twinkle that captivated him. They were almond-shaped, and sparkled a brilliant green. In that instant, it all came together in his mind; the years of effort were about to pay off. Finally, he sputtered, “Enchanting!” He held her face in his hands and kissed her cheek, then spun on his heels and headed for the door.
“But what about the lemon drops?” she asked. He stopped for a moment and looked around the shop holding it forever in his mind.
“I’ll be back,” he answered fervently. “I promise.” He then stepped out the door, the bell jingling as it swung shut behind him. A moment later he had Apparated to his brother’s home in Hogsmeade. Anderson was napping in his chair, some Celtic tune playing over the Wireless.
“Abe! Wake up!” Falfax cried. Startled, Anderson reached for his wand, and in so doing knocked over a bottle of mead. The liquid spilt out, spreading across the floor. Anderson cursed, but did not bother to take the time to clean it up.
“What?” he snapped. “I thought we were done with this business tonight.”
“Get up fool, and fetch another goat! I’ve figured it out!” Like a child learning to read for the first time, Falfax was filled with excitement.
It took longer than expected for Anderson to return, and when he did walk through the front door dragging a goat behind him, he was clearly agitated.
“Damn Hogsmeade visits,” he muttered under his breath. He pulled the goat in, but in his haste neglected to secure the door. “Ran into a particularly plucky boy in green.”
“Never mind the students,” said Falfax, not really listening. “They’ll be on their way back to the castle soon.” He motioned for Anderson to position the goat in the corner of the room. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier Abe; you just mentioned it. Green… it was green all along.”
“If you say so, Al,” huffed Anderson, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He stepped away from the goat as Falfax raised his wand with determination in his eyes.
“Avada Kedavra!” he cried out. A blast of green light erupted, rushed toward the goat, and the creature collapsed where it was standing. The two wizards stepped over and examined the creature. It was dead, staring blankly up at them with a terrified expression on its face.
“You did it!” Anderson cried out, and he slapped his brother on the back. “Can it be blocked?” The second question was less energetic than the first.
“I… I don’t think so,” said Falfax in a more subdued voice as he looked down at the goat. Both men were feeling the effects of the curse that had just been cast; a small slash in the earth’s magical fabric.
“Then Rostenfruster can be defeated! And to think I used to punch you in the nose when we were little. Sorry for that.” Anderson flicked his brother’s nose. “You know, Al, you may have saved the world.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Abe. It will take months, maybe years for us to test the spell to be sure.”
“We could try it on some of the spies we’ve captured.”
“Don’t be absurd. It’s a schism of nature; the Centaurs wouldn’t approve. We must—” There was a click at the entrance, and both of them looked up to find nothing but the closed door.
“Must have been the wind,” offered Anderson.
“Yes… the wind,” whispered Falfax.
x-x-x-x-x
“Excuse me, Mervin . Mervin ! May I borrow the paper?”
Visibly shaken, Mervin Falfax looked up blankly from the black newsprint to the eyes of Professor Merrythought.
“C-Certainly, Galatea,” muttered Falfax, and he handed her the paper, dropping his face into his hands. She sat down next to him and then realized he handed her a Muggle newspaper.
“A Muggle paper?” she asked. “Why on earth would you… Is it this article here? The one about the mysterious deaths?” His face still in his hands, Falfax remained silent. Professor Merrythought read the paper and then shrugged her shoulders.
“Strange, true enough. But why on earth would you care?”
“Don’t you see?” he asked weakly. “It’s as if Constrictus himself is guiding my hand.”
“I don’t understand?” she said, surprised.
“No,” he whispered, “but the new Prefect does.” Falfax looked down at the young man standing at the Constrictus table who was brashly showing off his shiny new badge. The glint striking…
x-x-x-x-x
…his eyes.
“Eez zat zee best zee Ministry of Magic haz to offer!”
The sun shimmered off the sea and sparkled in Falfax’s face. He was exhausted, surrounded by blasted bodies -- casualties from both sides of the war. But Rostenfruster still stood tall without the least concern that, like his foes, his own men had been decimated. He was about to take Britain; only two wizards stood in his way, Mervin and Anderson, and Anderson was down on one knee, crumpling to the sand. The wizards of Britain had tried everything they could, and still the onslaught came, wave after wave of furious red light blasting everything in its path.
Falfax had resisted all temptation to use the Killing Curse he had created. At Groglesforn he knew that there was a darkness growing that would dwarf that of the wizard now standing before him. Already the Chamber had been opened, a student and three people had died, Hagrid had been expelled, and rumors of Horcruxes and other deaths were swirling about. If only he’d had time to pay more attention, if only—
Another blast of red light came his way and he deflected it with his wand, but the nearby blast laid Anderson flat on his face.
“You zeem concerned about your fellow vizard, Falfax,” croaked Rostenfruster with a froggy voice. “Perhaps I should inzinerate him and put zee matter out of your mind.” The madman held out his wand to kill his fallen foe, but the spell never left his lips.
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green light erupted from Falfax’s wand. Rostenfruster dismissively uttered a protection spell but the rush of green was undeterred. It struck him squarely as a look of astonishment and then terror spread across his face -- a look that remained in his frozen eyes as he fell to the sand.
Falfax walked over and looked down at his adversary as an ocean wave lapped at the dead wizard’s robes. He began to shiver, shaking his head. A hand wrapped around his shoulder offering comfort. A steak of blood was running down Anderson’s face.
“You did what you had to do, Al,” he said softly, as the gulls circled overhead. “You’ve saved countless lives.” A large wave crashed itself upon the nearby rocks, and as water dripped down to the tide-pools below, Falfax couldn’t help but think of tears -- thousands of tears.
“You saved the world from a madman, Al. You know that, don’t you?” Falfax looked back to face his brother.
“Have I?” he asked, pools welling in his eyes. He looked down at the terrified expression staring up into nothingness. “What have I done? It’s unforgivable.”
x-x-x-x-x
“Unforgivable? What’s unforgivable,” shot back Frank Snotterstam, “is that we’re outnumbered twenty to one! Anderson, pour me one more. Merlin knows when I’ll have another.” Anderson slid another mug in front of Frank, and the Auror held it up in toast. “To the Order!” Anderson held up his mug, but Mervin stayed stoic, staring into space. “Mervin ?”
“Did you feel that?” Falfax asked. “Like the earth itself was screaming in pain.”
“The only thing I feel,” replied Frank, “is indigestion from that meal at Rosemerta’s. I’ll be glad when Alice has time to cook again.”
“Of course they needed more than a Fidelius charm,” Falfax muttered to himself. He was speaking gibberish, at least as far as the other two were concerned. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “I can feel it in my…” He stood and stroked his gray beard. “I can’t say where they are, but—” He was suddenly jolted backwards, almost as if he’d been hit with a stunner squarely in the chest.
“I felt it that time,” said Anderson in a hushed whisper. Frank looked confused.
“Of course you would,” answered Mervin . “You helped create it.”
He was feeling suddenly nauseous, and the room began to spin a bit. When the earth quaked, they all felt the rent in the magical fabric around them -- a third attack.
“It’s the Hosfans!” cried Falfax. “Somewhere near… of course! Frank, find Alice and get your boy to safety. They’re on the move.”
With a snap, Falfax Apparated to Godric’s Hollow. The instant he arrived, he felt the disturbance and moved toward it, wand drawn. The Hosfan home was destroyed; not a single board was left unscathed. It might just as well have been struck by a meteor from the heavens except for one notable exception -- the small baby boy wrapped in an ash covered blanket cooing in the very midst of the disaster, unaware that his mother lay dead at his side. Falfax expected Death Eaters and found none. He expected to sense Tomas’s presence, but that too was absent. Trembling, tears flowing from his eyes, he moved toward the small child. He stepped up on the first landing of rubble when a blast of white light pulsated toward him and threw him to the ground. It came from the boy.
“Curious,” Falfax said to himself as he pushed himself up on one elbow. This time preparing himself, he tried again, but was again struck and thrown backward. “Ancient magic,” he whispered to himself. No wizard would pass this barrier, but Falfax knew someone who might.
He was about to Apparate, when he looked back one last time at the small boy in the center of the ashes. Whatever caused this was more than the curse he had created. Then, suddenly, Falfax’s stooped back straightened and his eyes filled with a clarity that none had seen in months.
“Like a phoenix from the fire.”
x-x-x-x-x
“Phoenix! Forgive me, Headmaster, but do you mind if I tell you YOU’RE INSANE!”
Noxirini Kastran paced the Headmaster’s office as Falfax stroked Fawkes with his good hand, the other blackened and shriveled. The aged wizard was lost in thought, oblivious to Kastran’s protestations.
“Not to mention,” Kastran continued, “what will happen to me if it fails!”
“It will not fail,” whispered Falfax, still stroking the bird.
“Sir, it’s one thing for a magical creature like a Phoenix to swallow the Avada Kedavra curse; it’s a far greater matter for a wizard… an ill wizard,” he emphasized, looking at the Headmaster’s hand, “to capture the curse.”
“And you would know this how?” asked Falfax, narrowing his eyes at the Constrictus Head of House.
“You know why,” spat Kastran. “I’ve used it!” He said these words without pride, more with a sense of defeat. He turned away, looking at the various silver instruments that lined one particularly dusty shelf. Falfax walked over and took his arm.
“Noxirini,” he said hoarsely, “I created it!”
In all the world, there were only a handful of wizards that knew the true source of the Killing Curse, and this information was obviously news to Kastran. He spun to look at Falfax.
“I thought the Dark—”
“He stole it from me,” answered Falfax, and now it was his voice that was defeated. “Or, perhaps, I taught it to him.” He walked over and sat at his desk, pondering the darkened hand before him. “There is no one that knows the nature of this abomination better than me. Since the death of the Hosfans I’ve known there was a way to defeat the evil I created, the darkness I unleashed on the world. I may not be able to close Pandora’s box, but I can destroy it.” He leaned forward and held Kastran’s eyes in his own. “Who better than me to determine if I’m right, and who better than you to deliver the blow?”
“But Hosfan, certainly—”
“He must not know. His link with Bostrini is too great. If the plan is to work, he must never know.”
“And if I’m not the first to make it to you? What if Dominic—”
“You know as well as I do where his heart lies, and it is not with his father.”
The blood began to drain from Kastran’s face, and he shook his head. “No, I won’t do it! I can’t do it!”
“Noxirini… please…”
x-x-x-x-x
A flash of green and now only the shining skull blazing in the stars above.
Falling… falling…
They say, when a person dies, their life passes before their eyes. For Mervin Falfax, that vision swept before him when he ran into the Mirror of Erised earlier in the day. He was heading to the entrance hall to meet Dige , and somehow found himself in a deserted storage room. He knew at once what the dusty white canvas covered, and on any other day he would have turned around without a second thought. Only today he reached out his hand and pulled loose the canvas to reveal the image, at first, of an aged wizard with a withered hand.
The image changed to a small child, warm and filled with wonder at the world around him -- a world without war; a world where candles dripped etched designs of beauty, not tears; a world where mustard made good curry and nothing more; a world where Snirot and Mervin challenged each other at chess, never mentioning Horcruxes or Killing Curses; a world with no such extracurricular experiments for Tomasas Ronflut to learn his dark craft -- skills taught by the very wizard that brought him to Groglesforn. Mervin Falfax saw a beautiful woman and was able to love her green eyes in all their emerald splendor, and this time kept the promise he had forsaken. For a long, deep breath he savored the moment and then turned his back on the mirror.
That future would lead to other wars, other hatreds. That future would not contain the shining hope of the present generation -- the boy left behind on the battlements above, the young man who showed him how to live once again, the man who showed him how to die.
The last thing he heard was the tearful cry of Fawkes -- the risen Phoenix.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Time Ending
The metronome of time tick-ticks away
While life like placid river passes by.
I sit and watch enjoying the display
And utter softly to myself a sigh.
For youth is gone no matter how I try
To hold on tight; not let it slip away.
I tell myself that life's not passed me by,
That youth's a frame of mind, or so they say.
But in the end I know my day has passed
Like fallen leaves amidst a troubled stream,
As from time's raging waters I've been cast
To sit upon the bank to watch and dream.
For time, they say, waits not for any man
And youth is gone as quick as it began.
While life like placid river passes by.
I sit and watch enjoying the display
And utter softly to myself a sigh.
For youth is gone no matter how I try
To hold on tight; not let it slip away.
I tell myself that life's not passed me by,
That youth's a frame of mind, or so they say.
But in the end I know my day has passed
Like fallen leaves amidst a troubled stream,
As from time's raging waters I've been cast
To sit upon the bank to watch and dream.
For time, they say, waits not for any man
And youth is gone as quick as it began.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
An Ode to Breakfast
Salt
Yolk
White
We are the sun
boiled to perfect radiation
left alone in cold air
cradled by salty snow.
stomachs too full
to complete the five dollar
special.
Pepper
Ketchup
Bacon
you complete this tasty
compliment
to the ultimate breakfast;
forgotten
next to still-steaming coffee
on a sunday morning
5 am.
Yolk
White
We are the sun
boiled to perfect radiation
left alone in cold air
cradled by salty snow.
stomachs too full
to complete the five dollar
special.
Pepper
Ketchup
Bacon
you complete this tasty
compliment
to the ultimate breakfast;
forgotten
next to still-steaming coffee
on a sunday morning
5 am.
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