Azkaban Black

Avada Kedavra!

Tomorrow was Azrael's eleventh 'birthday', and the spectacle was already prepared. A hooded and gagged prisoner whimpered in the corner of his and Sirius' shared cell.

Azrael himself had grown from a slight child to a tall, lithe eleven year old. His daily physical routine left him with a graceful body sporting elegant muscular body. His raven-black hair with a streak of silver hung to his shoulders like Sirius and his killing curse eyes were bright with anticipation.

He had just learned a few nasty Dark hexes and the exhilarating bliss that followed such still lingered over his movements. His morning wake-up Crucatius was more effective than any cold water splash to the face and the sheer pain it brought him had him buzzing with energy that he had to let out some way if he wanted to keep from obliterating the walls around him in a power surge, so a little torture of lower-level inmates was a great way to relieve stress.

Hence his slightly loopy attitude and half-lidded eyes. He had his French and Latin overview with Uncle Rook in a couple minutes but he wanted to take a moment and enjoy the bliss of Dark Magic that threatened to turn him to a happy little puddle of muscle-relaxant joy. He grinned at Sirius' sleeping form, but frowned when he remembered how much his Dogfather had been sleeping lately.

Maybe it was just something you did when you got old? Sirius wasn't old, really, not at all. But his lined face and hair beginning to grey already,Az worried.

Maybe it was just Azkaban.

That was the explanation for anything out of the ordinary, really, and for good reason.

"Aunt Bella's cackling again, Uncle Rook, but she's laughing at nothing,"

"That's alright, Angel. It's just Azkaban. Now, let's return to conjugations. The Present Stem, amō,"

And so on.

But it wasn't time to think about that. This was his minute to relax before his lessons began anew and he wasn't about to waste it on memories.

Azrael's eleventh birthday dawned dreary and rainy, which, given the fact that they were more or less in Britain, was as much as expected. But inside the North Tower the air buzzed with anticipation. It wasn't every day one's pet child learned the Killing Curse, you know. He was practically vibrating with excitement, and Sirius smiled at his Dogson affectionately.

He was much more amicable to the idea of him learning things to protect himself and fuck with the standards than Azrael learning the Unforgivables to bring havoc to the Wizarding community and glory to the Dark Lord. Sirius was of the opinion that he'd think about an eleven year old learning the darkest Dark Magic in any way that let him sleep at night, thank you very much.

The time came, and after Bella's short lesson on the intent behind the curse, Azrael was ready, and the onlookers craned their necks in anticipation of the show.

Azrael stood before the unlucky inmate selected for the demonstration, shaking out his hands. He turned his head to grin at his Aunt Bella before placing a hand on his chest and whispering " crucio. "

He laughed for a breathless moment then cut the torture curse off, pain energizing him, charging his magic to perform. (Azrael has realized that the deeper he went into Dark Arts the more power the spells required, and with Azkaban already sucking up ambient magic, to do bigger spells required a bit of a... jump start.)

The eleven year old lifted killing-curse eyes to stare pitilessly at the quivering figure before him. He lifted a pale hand, and the peanut gallery tensed collectively. He closed his eyes for a moment, then they burst open, gleaming eerily.

" Avada kedavra. "

A flash of sickly green light, and the figure fell to the dust like a puppet with severed strings.

Silence.

Then a giggle broke the spell, and other Death Eaters turned to Az, who was trying to muffle his laughter. But he stopped trying and simply laughed , a terrifying screech of pure manic cackling burst from his mouth and didn't stop. Some of them wondering if Hogwarts is safe this year.

He finally trailed off to look at his Aunt Bella with wide, doe-like eyes, pupils blown wide.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly. "That was lovely."

He was ready for anything.