The Potter Chronicles

Chapter 18: The Centauride's Prophecy

His body was brutally tied with chains. Warm blood trickled down his nose. A black clot had formed beneath his eye. Yet he resisted. He wouldn't show them the slightest vulnerability. He looked up again against the light when another hard punch hit his face, inviting spit and blood out of his mouth.

"He's had enough" a hooded man said.

"Since when did you start showing mercy, Mal'akh" another hooded man said, raising his fist. He punched Aberforth hard in the stomach.

Four hooded men stood in the torture room, giving a warm "welcome party" to the Minister of Magic. He had betrayed their master. There was no mercy for him.

The hooded man raised his fist again to strike Aberforth's face but the other man held his hand and said "Alright, it's enough. Let's take him to the master".

The man dropped his hand. They untied the chains off Aberforth's body. He went limp.

Two hooded men took his weight on their shoulders and carried him towards the meditation hall. They made their way through the huge hall, towards the end. A large golden curtain stood there, beyond which sat their master.

"Master. We've brought you Aberforth" one hooded man said.

"Good. Leave him here" the master's crystal clear voice sounded from beyond the curtains.

"Yes master" the hooded men said and set Aberforth on his knees and left the hall.

Aberforth simply sat there. A couple of minutes later, the master spoke again.

"Tsk...tsk...tsk" he clicked his tongue.

"Look at you Aberforth...What have you done..." he said.

Aberforth said nothing.

"You know the difference between a caged bird and an Icarus?" the master asked.

Aberforth shook his head in a no.

"There is none, Aberforth. Both survive on a simple emotion. Hope." the master said.

"Speaking of hope, I remember having hope in you. I've known you since you were a child. You grew up, with the surf of youth thundering in you. Yes, I've known you and your wrath for muggles very well. That is why I trusted you. But like your brother, you turned out to be a disappointment too..." the master said, his calm voice lingering a little longer.

"What do you want?" Aberforth said, spitting some blood in the process.

"What do I want? No...no...I want nothing. Nothing more or less then what you want. I believed we shared our visions about the future of our world, but I was wrong. I must have miscalculated something. I would've failed to consider a rare probability. The probability of you going astray. Of you planning something else behind my back" the master said, his voice rising.

"What are you talking about?" Aberforth said, finally gathering courage.

"You know very well what I'm talking about, Aberforth. Harry Potter's corpse was being taken to some other place by air, when the plane went missing. Such planes don't go missing without a plan and a reason. And, I don't understand why, but here, the reason is you" the master said, his voice at its top, echoing through the hall.

"I didn't do it, master" Aberforth simply said.

"Don't lie to me, son. I would never have contacted you if I had the slightest doubts about you. But here I am, proven wrong" the master said, his voice calm again.

Aberforth opened his mouth to say something, but did not speak anything. His thoughts started getting focused. He realised that the master was searching his mind. He tried to resist, but couldn't. So he bit his tongue hard. He tasted his own salty blood.