The Very Last Horcrux

Chapter Three - Getting by the Aftermath

Kinsey's body was buried on the day of the second "ber" month of 1981. The news of the boy named Harry Potter surviving the killing curse from the Dark Lord himself, spread like lightning. Dawrius was in another room, poring pages of The Daily Prophet, coping to a shock that his daughter is also dead. He couldn't merge the thought that after a burial, there is another funeral. Everything happened so fast. He wouldn't call Dumbledore a murderer for he did it for the greater good.

 "If she had lived, she knows how to unlock your granddaughter's power to cause more suffering to our world. Aurice was under the Imperius Curse. Tom used her longing for him to put her in these circumstances," said Dumbledore.

"It would be unwise to let her live," agreed Teeban.

These words were playing in his mind for almost every second that chimes. There is something in him that urges to avenge the death of his loved ones. His intuition sojourns on the very idea to show aggression to some of the known Death Eaters who started the war. Yes, the war abruptly ended but it left a loose thread in him such as in the hearts of other wizarding families. Almost each corner of their world, wept. No hope was seen to reconstruct their lives. Bringing everything back to what and how it was is impossible.

Although they had this feeling, they have to get up and breathe what was left for them to breathe. They have to helm what was left in the soil. They have to veer around a path that would lead them to recover on such ill-fate. They have to think that in the aftermath all will be well. Everybody has to take their fill of rebuilding the ruins that have been enormously ruined, and the houses that was bolted to ashes. At least that's what he heard.

Through all of this rough recuperation happening, he just pleasured his throat with exciting spirits that was made by muggles. These spirits is known as bittersweet beverages classified as Champagne, Rum, and many more. The tastes of each drop of liquor revitalized his senses. This became his vice. Teeban could only shake his head on the activities caused by the misfortunes of his son. But who could blame him?

Dawrius, embittered with his fate, mingled with muggles and joined in their nature of gambling, adorning himself with women. There was no stopping him to waste his time in the streets, drunk and merry.  Teeban ordered Dorothy to wait for him every night. She always find Dawrius fallen to his knees, begging for Dorothy to end his life that instant.

"You still have your granddaughter to care for," said Dorothy.

"She is no granddaughter of mine. That infant is the product of an imp," fired Dawrius.

"How could you say that to your dughter's daughter, of your own flesh and blood?" said Teeban stepping into the discussion.

Dawrius looked at him, blood-shot eyes from his drunken state.

"That infant is the flesh and blood of a horrible man," said Dawrius.

"I understand what you're going through, but don't treat Autumn like what Aurice experienced from you. We're her only family now," was Teeban's outcry. "Dawrius, you're not the only one getting by all these miseries."

Dawrius, giddy, passed out.

He awoke to an unknown place. He saw his wife Suzanne Burgundy. Suzanne was the way he remembered her: pale complexion, deep-set eyes and long eyelashes, perfect pointed nose, and full pink lips. She wasn't coyly and gay as she was. Her eyes were dim.

"What has happened to you Dawrius?" asked Suzanne impiously.

"What do you mean what has happened to me?" said Dawrius wearily.

"It's not good to answer a question with another question," said Suzanne.

"I don't know what you mean Suzanne," returned Dawrius.