Our Corrupted Souls

Part XXII: It all Begins to Unravel.

"It is natural to die as to be born."

~ Francis Bacon

"A tragedy for the Greengrass family this is. Daria Greengrass (neé Chattox) has been pronounced dead at St. Mungo's hospital. The 23 year old was reported missing on Saturday morning by her husband, only 24 hours later she was brought back by a stranger to the hospital. The cause of her death has been said to be childbirth. There is an investigation being run; however details have not come out yet. Could she be another victim of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Many think so, given her past-"

"Mother please be quiet." Lennox muttered.

His mother had taken pleasure in reading the article written by a young woman by the name of Rita Skeeter. This portion of the article had been the most factual thing she'd written; the rest painted his wife like the dark witch she once was. He had tried his best to keep everything quiet, to respect his wife's death as best he could, but journalists like Skeeter were hard to shut down.

Daphne wrapped around her father's legs, who seemed to have lost all trace of life. She looked from him to the headstone that read:

Daria Helena Greengrass.

Mother, Lover, Daughter.

"There are three classes of men; lovers of wisdom, lovers of honor, and lovers of gain."

― Plato

You were all.

Daphne's grip on her father's leg grew stronger as small purple hyacinths began to spurt from the ground around her mother's stone and bloom. A quivering sob came from Lennox, which made Daphne bury her head in between his legs. Almost to voice his grief, the fragile girl in the baby carriage buggy began to weep.

"Mother, do you mind," whispered Lennox, he had not picked up his younger daughter, nor seen her. He could not afford to.

"Certainly." Mara was quick to pick up the unnamed girl, and with the buggy behind her, made her way to the manor.

Liam Greengrass, a man that shared the same physical appearance as his son, placed his hand on Lennox's shoulder. "Staying here won't bring her back," said the man, his voice lacking empathy. "Let's go back inside. You have important business with Malfoy, remember?"

Lennox only shook his head as his father took Daphne's hand and took her inside, it was not long before he forced his feet to move and return to life as if it had not been ripped from him days prior.

Now the garden that was so well kept by Daria had a singular headstone that will eventually be accompanied in the years to come.

Of course, as the faithful servant, Death remained by Harry's side. The boy could feel its presence like never before. The chilling wind that always alerted him of the entity, once a feeling of belonging, made him uneasy, waiting for the next body to drop. He wanted to be alone.

He needed to be alone.

As if reading his intrusive thoughts, Death was no longer beside him. His servant's presence could not be found, neither could his will to connect to soulless magic. There was always a hollow feeling to his body whenever he practiced such unknown magic - uneasy feeling, yet warm - now without access to it, he felt less powerful, more isolated.

Harry brought the paper tucked in his pockets near; the last thing Lennox had done to help. A singular message was written:

Where the circle lies and ceremonies are made. Where the circle lies, the royals may rest. Come to where the history is lost and tourists roam. Here the star lies, nearing its demise.