Black Blood

021 - Fiery Flight

She crept through the shadows, finding a dark wall that no auror seemed to be patrolling, and it was there that she mounted her cousin's broom, shivering slightly as she recalled the spat that had taken place between the pair when she'd demanded he lend it to her for the occasion.

Cassiopeia glanced up, her eyes focused upon a dark cloud as it drifted near the full moon above, waiting until it covered the celestial's glow to begin her stealthy ascent. The tower, itself, was one of Hogwarts' tallest, but it didn't take her long to drift up its masonry, and she arrived upon its balcony without a sound, her eyes seeking the place he was held.

Within the tower's epicenter, and within a holding cell most likely transfigured for the occasion, sat the man she'd come to see, bound by wrought-iron chains and looking as though he'd given up on life itself.

'Considering what awaits him, an end to his life would likely be preferred,' she mused, feeling pity towards the man who'd committed an atrocity that could never be forgiven, and who'd plagued her thoughts for many a long month.

Silently padding her way up to his cell, she studied his gaunt face, lit up by a candle as it was, and she felt the faintest feeling of familiarity as her gaze washed over his heavily diminished yet still-fine features. He didn't seem to notice her silent observation, so she cleared her throat, which caused him to glance up at her in shock and disbelief. His jaw dropped wide in surprise, and she felt revolted by the yellow teeth he sported, likely an effect of being banished within the confines of Azkaban, and likely the product of the horrid place's poor care for its residents.

"You're-" he began, but she never allowed him to confirm nor deny any semblance between their appearance.

"Why did you do it?" she quietly queried, needing to know his answer, awful as it would most certainly be.

"Why did I do what?" he asked, his tone baffled, and Cassiopeia felt disgusted that he didn't seem to understand what she'd asked, especially considering what he was most well-known for.

'Does he not care at all? Does he not pay their lives an inkling of thought?' she silently wondered, revolted by the dreadful implication.

"Why did you murder those muggles? What caused such insane desire?" she coldly asked, her voice utterly devoid of emotion. "You even slaughtered your friend who tried to cease your mindless rampage. Why?"

"I didn't," he simply said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were stating the night was dark and nothing more.

"That's not what I've heard," she coldly replied, raising her chin in disdain. "And that's not what most seem to think."

"No, it isn't, but you're all wrong about me...about what happened that night," he said, his tone neither angry nor argumentative.

To him, he was simply stating a fact, and Cassiopeia wondered, truly she did, if he'd gone so mad that he couldn't even comprehend the awful act he'd committed.

"Are you truly so mad that you've made up a delusion or some such to hide the truth from yourself?" she quietly asked, narrowing her eyes at the pitiful creature before her.

"I didn't kill those people, Cassiopeia," he simply stated, which caused a shiver to crawl down her spine.

'How does he know my name?!' she wondered in alarm. 'The family resemblance is there, but he shouldn't know my name!'

"May I ask...how you know my name? Have you...been spying upon me whilst you were seeking out Potter?" she queried, shivering, once more, as the implication washed over her.

"I've seen you a few times, here and there, but no, I've not been spying on you," he replied, his tone light and amused, as though he didn't understand that he was bound in shackles and awaiting a dementor's soul-sapping kiss. "I've actually known about you since the day you were born."