A Matter of Malevolence

Part Six

Well, that was it. Severus had decided. He'd woken from his relaxation-spell-and-breakfast induced nap, given the whole matter a good two hours' worth of thought, and decided: this Quest with all its problems was not for him.

It wasn't as though he didn't want that book. The grimoire was a key to power and he knew it very well, but the price for attaining it was simply too high. Montgomery was gone; spectacularly gone, with a lightshow to boot, and even before he'd vanished, he hadn't been doing very well. The portrait was a bastard, the Grey Lady was a bitch, and the grimoire was not worth his life thank you very much.

And then on Tuesday, Severus realized that he'd spent nearly all of Monday thinking about that grimoire.

Well, that wasn't good. He'd decided, hadn't he? His decision had been made. There really wasn't any need to think about it any further. Then on Wednesday, he saw Evans and three other Questers whispering together in the library, and realized he'd spent most of Tuesday wondering if they'd solved the last riddle.

AUGH. What was wrong with him? This wasn't acceptable - this was ridiculous! He had better things to do than flirt with death (or disentegration or WHATEVER the hell had happened to Montgomery) and risk dismemberment! Plenty of things! In fact, he was going to buckle down and do those things, no matter what anybody said!

He did them all day Wednesday. He was a study fiend on Thursday, and spent every free moment of his time in the library on Friday, and was feeling very proud of himself until he realized he'd been logically whittling down the possibilities of just WHAT this grimoire may contain, based on who had it and the kind of magic keeping it hidden.

Oh, this was simply not fair. Not fair at all. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he'd been a little too hasty.

After all, nobody said he had to do anything dangerous. He was pursuing the grimoire on his own time, right? He wasn't doing it on assignment, or even in a way that anybody who mattered knew. He wasn't taking any wild risks, or attacking portraits the way Montgomery did. Was he? He certainly was not; and so maybe, it wasn't really the wisest thing in the world to drop the quest like the hot potato he'd thought it was.

Maybe he'd been wrong. He certainly had been before (albeit rarely). Considering, Severus finally decided to play a kind of bingo game with the universe: if he was "fated" to finish this quest (whatever THAT meant), then he would go to the library and overhear exactly what he needed from the Questers to get his game going again. If he were not "fated" to, then he would go to the library and not overhear anything of any worth whatsoever.

There! Subject finished. Feeling pleased with his newer decision, Severus gathered his textbooks and camped out in the library.

It was a wonderful idea. Everybody else was enjoying the weather outdoors, no one was bothering him, he could read and read and study for hours uninterrupted, and settle the matter of resuming or quitting the Quest once and for all. At least, it was a wonderful idea for the first three and a half hours; after that, it started to grow dull.

Very dull.

An hour passed; two. Then three, and to Severus' consternation, there was no sign of any of the Questers at all. Come on, now; how could he test Fate and come to his proper conclusion if there were no Questers here to either drop him hints or remain completely useless? This was not the way to conduct an experiment. Well, perhaps he'd have to extend his experiment another day - all the factors had to be present, after all, and he was getting hungry. Dinner awaited. Sighing in frustration, Severus began to pack away his well-marked schoolbooks and thought about food.

And then, there came a voice.

"Yes, I do think I've solved it," said Charles Montgomery cheerfully, and the whole group of Questers sat down.

Charles. Montgomery.

...impossible.

"Really? That's wonderful! Show me, show us, we've got to see!"

"I will. Have a seat, and I'll show you what the riddle means."

Impossible. IMPOSSIBLE. Montgomery was GONE. Whirling around, Severus raced up to the bookshelf and shoved the books aside, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Six Questers - Charles Montgomery among them - peered back at him with various expressions of startlement.

Montgomery looked fine. No bandages or burns, madness or maladies were visible. Smiling and cheerful, Montgomery blinked at Severus from behind his glasses and said, "Hello. Did you need something?"

Severus choked. Panicking, he pulled back away from the bookshelf and let the volumes he'd been holding fall back into place, hiding him from view. But this was not good enough; grabbing his bookbag, Severus turned and ran as quickly as he could to the end of the aisle and past them.

Six shocked students watched him tear by; no one said a word.

Severus ran a few more feet, making sure they could hear his footsteps retreating. Then - ignoring Madam Pince's evil, evil look - he turned on his heel and tiptoed back the way he'd come. Working his way quickly back around the other side of the stacks, he folded onto the floor one bookshelf away from where the Questers sat and listened. If he knelt JUST right -

"Weird," opined Montgomery, looking confused.

Yes. Severus could see them here, and since he was peeking from below knee level, they were less likely to spot him watching. This would do nicely.

"I think he's in some of my classes," offered the hateful Evans, and Severus resisted the urge to curse her through the stacks.

"Well, whoever he is, he's gone now," said Montgomery, and opened his notebook. "All right. Interruptions aside - who wants to hear the answer to the last riddle?"

"Ooh, me, me, me!" cried the other five, excited, four of them raising their hands.

Montgomery was enjoying himself. He held up one finger, chiding. "Hang on - first, let us review. The riddle in question is as follows:

"We are little airy Creatures,
All of diff'rent Voice and Features,
One of us in Glass is set,
One of us you'll find in Jet,
T'other you may see in Tin,
And the fourth a Box within,
If the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from You."

Montgomery looked very pleased. "It was the word 'voice' that finally tipped me off. I started saying the rest of it out loud, over and over, just thinking to myself what it could mean, listening to my own VOICE - and that's when it came to me. The capitalized words - here." He waggled his wand in the air, and words appeared out of smoke, floating vaguely in the direction of the arithmancy section. "Glass. Jet. Tin. Box. You. Say them quickly, out loud with your eyes closed, and LISTEN to the words - the answer's right there, inside them."

Severus stared at them. Now what were they doing? And why was Montgomery here? How? At the top of his game, well, cheery, amiable - how could this even be the same person? Where the hell had he BEEN?

The Ravenclaws (and mudblood Gryffindor) were all doing exactly as they were told, keeping their eyes closed and saying the words over and over again out loud. Severus frowned. Something WAS familiar about the sequence, now that he heard it spoken; it wasn't the words themselves, no. Something about the rhythm - or the sounds, or -

Evans gasped. "Vowels! A, E, I, O, U! It's vowels, the answer is vowels!" Everyone stared at her for a moment; and then - quietly - they all cheered, stifling their joy just a little bit too late to be truly library-quiet.

Vowels?

Montgomery actually did a funny little bounce in his seat that looked like a jig. "Yes! You see, you've figured it out, too! Now, tomorrow after arithmancy - well, arithmancy for me, I don't know what classes YOU have - I say we meet up in the third floor corridor, outside the Runes classroom, and go in a group to see the Grey Lady. We've got it this time. I can feel it!"

Everyone was celebrating - hugging each other, wriggling in their chairs. Severus frowned, no longer watching them. Tomorrow? They were going tomorrow?

The others kept talking.

"But who's the author?"

"Jonathan Swift. We studied him in History of Magic last term, actually - tried to write storybooks Muggles would like to introduce them to the idea of different kinds of people still being people - used a sort of bastardized concept of leprechauns and giants to get his point across. Didn't work, though, but it was a bloody good try."

Tomorrow. The Questers were going to see the Grey Lady tomorrow. Severus had the answer and they weren't going to the Grey Lady until tomorrow.

His breath caught in his throat. It was a risk, a huge risk, he could spoil everything if he did this wrong -

This was his CHANCE.

There wasn't time for him to second-guess. Bookbag in hand, tiptoed as quickly as he could for the library door, ignoring the glare Pince sent his way. Finally free of the need to be quiet, he began to run, pounding top-speed up the stairs toward the portrait near the Ravenclaw tower, and hoping desperately that Veneficus was going to be in a better mood than usual.

---

Veneficus was on the horse again.

Mystery-potions in both hands, Veneficus sat in glory, his expression one of complete disdain and supremacy over all. Behind him the darkness swirled, shifting in a breeze of its own making, and for one creepy moment, Severus thought it might actually be aware of him.

Riiiight. Next he was going to be talking to trees.

"Have you... seen the... Grey Lady?" he asked, still trying to gather his breath from his three-flight jog.

Veneficus looked vaguely disgusted. "Even if I had - which I have not - why on earth would I bother telling you? Then you might be happy. I'd rather not have to witness that."

Severus sighed. Veneficus was obviously going to be no help. Resisting a childish urge to blow a rasberry at the painted Princeps, Severus jogged on and began looking in various classrooms.

Several of the rooms up here did not seem to be used for anything at all. Empty, or filled with stacked chairs and dusty tables, they smelled like old, abandoned closets. Other classrooms were obviously heavily used (and possibly Peeves-visited), showing damage from faulty spells, a few forgotten textbooks, scattered oddities like feathers and pillows and quills. For the most part, Severus could identify what was taught in each class by the damage and bric-a-brac left behind.

He stopped when he came to the classroom with herbs hanging from the ceiling.

Everything felt just like it had been before. Strange symbols on the chalkboard, an odd and enticing smell of blood and dirt and power, tingling remains of some strange spell that made the whole left wall glow green - this classroom was wonderful. Now if only he could figure out why -

"Can I help you?" came a pleasant voice from behind him. Startled, he spun.

A round ghost in a monk's habit was smiling at him. Hufflepuff, that was the Hufflepuff ghost; what was his name - the Fat F... Friar, that was it.

"You really shouldn't be here. If you stay, you're sure to be caught," shared the Friar kindly, a look of concern on his portly face.

Well, Veneficus wasn't talking to him; a Hufflepuff ghost would have to do. "I have to be here. Do you know where the Grey Lady is?" asked Severus.

"The Grey Lady?" The Friar's eyes widened. "Why?"

Severus scowled. "Because I need to speak to her, stupid fool! Now do you know where she is or NOT?" he said, and the kindliness melted from the Friar's face like ice in the sun.

The ghost looked admonishing. "I won't help you if you're rude," he chided gently, waggling one wide finger.

Severus released a slow, controlled sigh. Patience, why did everyone want PATIENCE from him these days - "Sorry. I'm sorry. I need to see the Grey Lady. I need to see her. I have something to tell her. It's important. Do you know where she is?"

The Fat Friar wasn't through chiding. "I might know where she is, young man. But you really need to work on your tone of voice."

Be patient, Severus told himself. "You're right, and I'm sorry. But it's really important."

The ghost looked at him for a long moment. "All right. I'll show you where she is. Come this way." And he floated out of the room.

Finally! Relieved that his frustrating kowtowing had worked, Severus followed the Fat Friar down the hall.

Walking and floating in silence, they once again passed Veneficus' portrait (the latter sneered), and then traveled up the stairs to the fourth floor. They turned the corner; went through a funny sort of archway, and up a half-flight of steps which stopped - oddly - at nothing. There, a couple of feet away from the landing, was a strange kind of platform.

The Fat Friar "Here she is!" he said cheerfully and waved at the platform.

"Where?" Severus stared at it dubiously. There was no ghost visible where indicated. Set neatly along the portrait-laden wall, the platform had barely room to stand on - although seven feet long, it was barely two feet wide, and just looking at it made Severus nervous. Peeking over the bannister, he glanced down. It was a clear drop from here, straight to the bottom.

...eek.

"There, young man! In the portrait. Have a good night!" said the Friar happily, and with that, he floated away.

"Fucking weirdo," muttered Severus, and looked at the portrait in question.

Inside the portrait sat a little girl reading a book. She was extremely pretty; large, brown eyes and ringlets of dark blonde hair cradled a face surely modeled after cherubim. A satin red dress in subdued hues hid her small body; her shoes matched, and to her right was a puppy which might or might not have been stuffed, nestled comfortably under one arm. Light streamed in from the window on her right; books covered every spare inch of space visible except where she was sitting. The child could not have been more than five years old.

As he watched, she turned the page.

"Hello," he tried.

She did nothing.

He frowned, gripping the railing tightly and a little bit nervously. "I said hello."

The little girl looked up at him. "Shhhh," she said, bringing one finger to her lips. "People are reading. Please go away."

For crying out loud... Severus rolled his eyes. "You aren't the Grey Lady as a child or something, are you?"

The little girl looked up at him again. "I said, shhhh," she reiterated. "If you want to speak to me, you have to step on the platform. I won't listen to people who shout."

Oh gods. Severus glanced down again. It was a long, long way to the first floor. He gripped the bannister tightly; grimoire - the grimoire, he wanted the grimoire. Surely that platform wouldn't just... collapse, would it?

Dizzy. Just a little. Perhaps looking down was a bad idea.

"...all right," said Severus quietly, breathing a little too quickly, and with one deep gasp, leapt with both feet forward onto the platform.

He misjudged slightly and hit the wall. He gasped; for one second it seemed he was going to ricochet right backwards off the platform, but he managed to land on it and stagger to the side, keeping his feet. His heart - pounding so hard, he could feel it in his fingertips -

The little girl was looking at him coolly. He'd practically bounced off her face. "Are you quite all right?" she said after a moment, sounding as though she really didn't care if he were.

"Yes," choked Severus, staring straight down. Gods, this platform was so damned SMALL - focus. Focus. FOCUS. "I need to see the... the Grey Lady."

"I am the Grey Lady," replied the painting in a sweetly tinkling voice.

Severus was far too aware of the death-drop behind him to feel overly disappointed. "I don't think you're quite the one I was looking for," he finally said.

"Which one were you looking for, little boy?" asked the girl.

Dizzy. And sick - he felt sick. It was so HIGH - "Your ghost-you. Adult.. grown-up, ghost-you. I have the answer to her final riddle."

"Ahhhh," said the little girl wisely, and without any further warning the ghost of the Grey Lady shot out of her torso and right through Severus' face.

Severus gasped. Startled, badly startled, he lost his balance, he stepped backwards, he fell -

Fell. Slowly, but so quickly, gravity pulling him backwards like the drown of time itself, panicking, scrabbling to try to grab the platform, a portrait, the stairwell was too far but he had to grab something, anything, ANYTHING -

He screamed.

Everything went black.

---

Severus became aware, gradually, that he was on something that was moving. Whatever it was, it slowly slid to a stop with a tiny jolt that sent pain shrieking through every nerve; then, as he was trying to process that, it began swinging back the other way. Nothing else happened for what seemed a very long time; then, gently - but it hurt, oh gods it hurt - the thing stopped again, with another tiny jolt, and was momentarily still.

He felt the uneven terraces of steps at his back and suddenly understood where he was. One of the swinging staircases - God only knew WHY the blasted things had to move - had situated itself underneath him as he fell, and so he was not dead. Relief of such power filled his system that for a moment, he started to cry.

"Do you have the answer for me, child?"

Blearly, Severus opened his tired eyes and looked up. Above him floated the Grey Lady, calm, unperturbed, apparently quite unconcerned about her attempted murder.

If that's what it was.

...Severus was having trouble thinking. The stairway started moving again, and sharp, tingling pain crawled down his spine. He sobbed once.

Smoothly, the Grey Lady floated above him, following.

Answer. He needed to answer, or all of this was for nothing. "V... vowels," he managed, and groaned. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. What had happened to his back?

The Grey Lady smiled. "Very good. That is the answer. Goodnight." And she floated back toward the portrait.

WHAT? No, no no no, this was NOT happening, not after this, not after all of this - "Wait!" He lifted one hand, or tried - it hurt too much. He left it at his side.

"Yes?" said the Grey Lady, turning back to face him.

"You... you're supposed to give me another clue! Or the answer, or... "

"You're not one of my Questers, little one," said the Grey Lady calmly; there was no rancor in her tone. "Good job on the quiz, though. Goodnight." And she floated back through the portrait and away.

No. Oh... oh, no. Severus lay there, gaping after her, when the stairwell decided to swing away again and he could see the portrait no more.

There was a new pain now, deep in his chest, that was far worse than any damage his back. The stairwell stopped, again with that tiny, tiny jolt that he'd never noticed when undamaged and on his feet, but he could hardly bring himself to care. In fact, he didn't care to move at all.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

The Quest was over. She wasn't going to give him any more clues.

Everything hurt.

The stairway moved again. Maybe... just lying here was the best way to go, after all.

---

"Mr. Snape?" said a voice above him. It broke through his sleep, his dark, peaceful dreams, and pain suddenly reminded him of where he was on the stairs. But now there was light pushing through his closed eyelids - and voices.

Many, many voices. Oooooh hell.

"Wha... ugh," said Severus. Hands were touching him. Whoever it was shifted him slightly, and the tendrils of pain in his back suddenly became piercing, broken pieces of glass. He cried out.

"Careful, careful there," murmured McGonagall, teacher McGonagall was holding him carefully, levitating him now up off the stairs and keeping him in the same position he'd been when he fell. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was far too blinding. "Mr. Lupin, go and get healer Smethwyck immediately. Run." Her voice was calm, her hands were gentle. She did not seem upset at him for apparently falling asleep on the stairs - or whatever it was she thought he'd done - and this simple fact told him that he was in far worse shape than he'd thought.

"Great," he croaked, and McGonagall hushed him.

"Hold still, Mr. Snape. Help is coming. Try not to move."

Severus could do that. In fact, the buzzing voices of students in the halls were very calming; he could feel the rhythm of their language, the pulses of their words, and before Smethwyck even arrived, he'd fallen back to sleep.

---

Healing magic was a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful thing.

Severus was released from the hospital wing that evening. He'd broken his back - not very surprising, given that he'd fallen nearly fifteen feet - as well as several other bones when he fell, but none of it was apparently out of the ordinary for Smethwyck. It certainly took a lot of work ("Come here, Poppy, I want you to see this"), but it was clearly not too much, and after everything had been mended and he'd had a little nap, Severus was allowed to go.

He hadn't expected to attain a small measure of fame.

Everyone wanted to know what happened. Severus was startled; somehow, it seemed every student in the school knew that he'd been found with a broken back on a moving stairway - one which, somehow, was on the first floor by the time morning came, which indicated that it only swivelled on the fourth floor late at night. He'd been found by an entire group of first years - who'd promptly run screaming back to the Great Hall about somebody being murdered, bringing out the whole school and - fortunately - several of the teachers.

Severus' own version of events was simple: he'd been exploring, tripped and fell down the stairs, and knocked himself out. That was that. There was no need to explain anything else. However, the stories surrounding him had grown exponentially during the day, and by the time Severus was released, they'd become enormous. Trolls, warlocks, a toussle with Peeves, six different explosion stories, and at least one wild tale of fighting off demons were waiting for him. Three people thought they'd heard Black and Potter talking about sticking a broom up his arse whil he lay there; but other than that, everyone seemed to have responded to his adventure with all due concern.

For the first time in his life, Severus was something of a celebrity. The irony was, right now, he did not want it.

Exactly what he needed to do was very clear to him. It had been since Smethwyck had finally removed the last slicing shards of pain from his back, and he'd spent the whole afternoon in the medical wing working it out. The whole of it could be encapsulated in one word: Revenge. The list of those he needed to put a curse on was small but very specific. The foremost, of course, was the Grey Lady, who'd left him where he was when he was injured when it was her fault he'd been injured to begin with. Then came Peeves the poltergeist, whom Severus had not forgiven for that leech incident, and suspected was guilty of letting the Grey Lady know he was not one of the Questers. And lastly came Veneficus, who was a puss-filled son of a bitch sadist, and deserved whatever he got.

However, he could not possibly extract revenge while so many people were bothering him. They were worse than witnesses; they were getting in the way of his studying. He still wasn't even certain HOW to curse a poltergeist or spirit to begin with, and his attempts to discover what to do were constantly being hampered by idiots who kept interrupting. Over, and over, and over again -

"Snape?"

ARGH. "What?" he snapped and looked up

It was Montgomery. Severus stared.

"Uh. Hey. Uh. So... how are you?" said the older Ravenclaw with a grin, and Severus gaped at him.

"...fine," he finally said, confused beyond all reason. What was this madman going to do?

"Well, good. Um. I heard you, uh... sort of had an accident with the Grey Lady?"

He'd heard? Where had he heard that? Severus's eyes grew wide. "Maybe," he said, unnerved.

"Yeah." Montgomery looked vaguely guilty. "Listen, I've been thinking. I know you were listening in the library, and, uh..." He sighed. "I kinda thought you might try to get involved, but then I thought, naw, he wouldn't do that, and I just let it go, and... uh." Reaching up, Montgomery rubbed the back of his head, his expression bashful. "It's kind of my fault you got hurt. I should have stopped you. I'm sorry."

Severus could not speak. "...what?" he said at last, quietly.

Montgomery shrugged. "Sorry. I just wanted to say... and... yeah. Don't try anything again, 'cause... nobody's watching out for you, okay? And again... I'm sorry." And with that, flushed and miserable, Montgomery turned on his heel and left the library.

Severus stared after him. Anger, then shock, then embarassment, then disgust hit him in waves

Montgomery knew? But how? Nobody knew the real story - except for that little girl and the Grey Lady, and it didn't make sense that they would talk about it, did they? But maybe they had; they had, and now Montgomery had come in here to find him, apologizing for not keeping him safe.

Right. Sure. SURE he was. Severus saw right through this trick. Montgomery wasn't here because he was concerned. He was here to keep Severus from continuing on the Quest because Severus had come too close to the answer!

Fury and determination flooded Severus' heart. All right, so the Grey Lady knew he was not part of the Questers any more. And now Montgomery knew as well. Montgomery - somehow not the same Montgomery as had threatened him in the hall - knew.

So what?

...it did not mean he had to quit looking.

Visibly calm and controlled, Severus turned back to his research on spirits and how to curse them, already making plans for tomorrow and what his next step woudl be. He would find the answers on his own. He had to. And if his damned painted ancestor wasn't going to help any more than anybody else, then fuck them ALL, Severus didn't need them anyway.

Severus had decided. This meant war.

---

Part Six - A Different Point of View, VI

The inside of the portrait didn't look anything at all like the outside. Oh, certainly it was physically simple; it could be torn apart, dissected, ripped into strips of canvas and flaking ink, but there was so much more to a magical portrait than that. This portait, especially, was different even from those around it.

From Veneficus' point of view, of course, everything here was three-dimensional. The world "Outside" looked flat to him, and also colorless, but that was because he who had painted HIS portrait had done it with many brilliant colors in mind. Everything from the black of the earth to the coal of his horse to the red of the sky and the gold of his potion was magnificently eye-catching; he had been in this portrait, in this place, for almost two thousand years, and he still had not grown bored.

Of course, the company helped, too.

Behind him were several things that for whatever reason were not visible from the Outside. Most of them were skeltons; one of them was a dessicated corpse, and the last... well. Perhaps the last was better off speaking for itself.

"Let me go," the boy cried, much more quietly now, for the darkness had been feeding on him. He'd made it so far, too, along the path, even dissecting the riddle of the two portraits called Power to Hold the World. Most men never made it that far; very few even made it past the gilded frame that held the painting, and almost none ever realized that there were two portraits to begin with. On the whole, Veneficus was pleased with this offering.

Outside, Charles Montgomery walked up to the portrait and smiled.

"I almost think I've figured you out," he said cheerfully, smiling at the terrifying man on the horse as though they were best friends.

Veneficus smirked in return. Ravenclaws; they were all the same. Always such a focus on the academic, so brilliant, so clever, so fucking IMPRACTICAL, never once thinking about how to apply what they learned and what they did, and always because of this the first to suffer.

Montgomery here was a perfect case in point.

"Have you now," murmured Veneficus, and between his thighs his powerful stallion shifted. Two thousand years and Veneficus had never yet figured out if the horse were cognizant or not; it could be - the Darkness that shared his world could have done any number of things here, and Veneficus was more than aware he would never fully understand it all. That was all right. A wise man accepted his own limitations.

"I have!" chirruped Montgomery - if a 17-year-old boy could possibly be thought of as chirruping. "And as soon as I've figured out how to activate it, I'll have that grimoire! Isn't that wonderful?"

Veneficus smiled. The boy behind him - invisible to the boy in front - groaned, shifted, tried to move under the weight of invisible vampiric chains that held him down. But Outside, Charles Montgomery did not see.

"Good for you, then - as long as you take proper precautions," murmured Veneficus, his dark eyes meeting Montgomery's baby-blue ones. "Somehow, though, I doubt you will. Then, instead of being wonderful... everything will be very, very bad."

Montgomery chuckled softly. "Yes, of course, I know. You always say that. And as I keep telling you, this is a GAME. I see through it now, all right? The Grey Lady isn't going to be leading her own house into the lion's mouth." He shook his head, smiling. "Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know. By the end of the semester, I'll have it. Goodnight!" And with a cheerful wave, he left.

Veneficus smiled cruelly as he went, baring his crooked teeth in a manner not disimilar to a hungry lion. Turning his head slightly, he spoke to the boy behind him. "Wasn't that fun, Charles? Getting to watch your young and eager self making the same mistakes all over again?"

On the ground and barely recognizable as human, the blackened-burned lump that was Montgomery stared at Veneficus with pleading, baby-blue eyes. Unable to speak, he moaned.

"Yes, I know, isn't it funny?" said Veneficus as he chuckled. "It'll take him months to get where you are, of course... and by then, you'll be gone, and he will be in your place. The whole cycle will begin over again. Ra, I love this job."

Montgomery-Inside made a hitching sound, as though weeping, but he could do little else. The darkness was coming again. Slowly. From far over the horizon, it came, silent, yet carrying so much force and power that no one living in this portrait could be unaware of its approach.

On his suddenly restless horse, Veneficus shifted; closing his eyes, he groaned.

On the suddenly ash-covered groaned, Montgomery whimpered, and shook.

It was feeding time again.