To Bet On Losing Dogs {Fred Weasley, ACT II}

Chapter Six

From the Journal of Peter Parkinson, 1689 CE

Mind, body, and soul. The Inferi possess only one – body. They are slaves to the spell caster, their body not their own, their soul having long since abandoned ship.

It is in my own humble opinion, as humble as one can be when speaking of personal creations, that the Inferius Curse be used in place of the Imperius Curse. While the Imperius Curse successfully seeps into the mind of its victims, allowing the being as a whole to be claimed, a soul is not so easily conquered. Souls fight against their oppressors, the strongest going as far as to regain control of their body. A well-trained wizard can push through a foggy mind to escape from the effects of the Imperius Curse with nothing more than sheer willpower.

The killing curse, however, cannot be escaped.

A corpse possesses no willpower. There is no soul present to claw its way to the surface, banishing the spell caster from their mind. It is a dead thing, and the dead remain as such. They are nothing more than puppets, their arms and legs now belonging to a different mind, a different soul; that of the puppet master.

They have few weaknesses. A killing curse has no ill effect; the spell meant to dispel the soul from the body, the Inferi not possessing one. Inferi feel no pain, no fear. They are incapable of betrayal, having no purpose other than that of their rebirth.

The Inferi are an army. They are not, however, spies. They cannot twist tales with their tongues, cannot retain information. They are not for use in warfare of the mind. But who needs such tactics when one can simply destroy such obstacles?

I have only discovered two ways of disposing of such creatures. The first requires the original caster of the spell. It is the responsibility of whoever woke the dead to restore their bodily peace. Only their creator, their god as the Muggles so casually put it, can relieve them of their duty. Only they can end the spell.

The other option is one I am not yet keen on sharing. The Inferi are capable of conquests for the new ages. Muggle cities could fall at their hands, their filthy blood could run through the streets, and no one would be able to stop my creations. I shall be the only one to hold the key to their extinction. I shall be the conqueror of worlds. Only my bloodline, as long as kept pure, shall hold such power. To my grave it will go.

"Eleanor?"

Eleanor's eyes rose slowly from the page before her to survey the girl standing before her. She laid the pen she'd been dancing between her fingers down before stashing the moldy parchment between the pages of a textbook she'd brought with her.

"Athena. You look well."

Eleanor was not expecting the compliment to be returned, nor was it. Athena Lovegood was nothing if not brutally honest. Her eyes swept over Eleanor, a small frown appearing when she found nothing appeasing, before she grabbed the chair opposite Eleanor and sat herself in it.

It took everything in Eleanor not to roll her eyes into the back of her head. She'd picked this café for the sole purpose of not being found. It was on the outskirts of London, the paint on the storefront chipped away. She'd ordered her tea, picked a corner in the back, a corner where her reading contents could not be overseen by wandering eyes, and made her peace.

All she wanted was some time by herself, some time away from the sinking hole that was Grimmauld Place, for her to muse over her findings. Orion Black had promised her she'd find a published work on Inferi by their original creator at Hogwarts, but she was unsure of what his definition of published was.

It was nothing more than an abstract, a boastful ad if you will. It included no information on the creation process, no notes outlining his trials, his errors. Nothing.