Wandering ((Dylan and Zee))

[Dylan Cooper]

Wandering the corridors of Hogwarts at approximately half past eleven post meridiem was not a typical action of the fifth year Ravenclaw. This week and the last, however, seemed to be exceptions in themselves. Dylan was a tumultuous rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions at the moment, a constant demonstration of the turmoil wrought from the death of his foster father the week previously. His mind couldn’t seem to concentrate on one thing for any extended period of time; classes had been rather pointless, and it had gotten to the stage where he really didn’t know why he attended them. Instead of his normal attentive, ready-to-learn state, he had remained melancholy and his head had remained downcast for the larger percentages of every class, excepting Potions in which he had been required to actually do some work. Even then, he had messed up his potion terribly, adding wrong ingredients, measuring and chopping carelessly and never checking how much time went between each movement or instruction carried out. Indeed, he was a bit of a mess, lately.

Finding his eyes drawn to a nearby window, the footfalls upon the marble floor ceased momentarily. Unable to look away for quite some time, he finally blinked absentmindedly and found himself released from the unknown spell and pull of his eyes toward the skies. Continuing his slow, meandering pace, it was a moment before he realised that he was nearing the Room of Requirement. Whether his subconscious had drawn him to this very corridor, or whether it had purely been coincidental, he did not know, and most certainly didn’t have the brain capacity to wonder about it now.

Continuing along, he debated about whether or not he should enter the concealed, fabled room. The last time he had found himself within it, he had felt a momentary release of all negativity. However, it had soon returned with more force than previously. Not altogether ‘with it’, he couldn’t even begin to make up his mind, or even think about it that much. So it was, he simply stood opposite the door, Barnabas the Barmy attempting to train trolls for the ballet behind him, and stared vacantly ahead, largely unaware of anything around him.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Would she be there? Zee was unable to make a solid prediction one way or the other. It did seem as though she'd been avoiding him of late, almost as if she knew of his intentions to ask her to the Masque. It was a little disheartening, but enough to dissuade Zee from his pursuit. He was Slytherin after all, and one way or another his ambitions were usually met. It had however been a very draining day, and he was more uncertain than ever about how it would play out if he did find Wysteria up in the astronomy tower. His spirits were not terribly high as he crept quietly through the halls, his disillusionment charm working marvelously to conceal his presence. His poor attitude he thought might prove a detriment to any attempts he may make to woo the girl into agreeing to accompany him to the dance.

When what should appear as if a perfect solution to a most vexing riddle than an apparently unwitting student, out alone in the dead of night. A wicked grin spread across Zee's obscured face as he stepped closer to the boy, moving slowly and as quietly as he could. Oh how long it had been since he'd been able to have a proper evening of enjoyment. He glanced upwards hesitantly.

If she's there waiting for you then she'll wait. If she's not then what a wasted opportunity this would be. He looks young. Perhaps he has not had much pain in his life yet. Though given that face, perhaps he has. Either way, a little more won't kill him. He'll probably thank us later for showing him how cruel life can be.

Pointing his hand at the boy, Zee glanced around and paused to listen to ensure no one else was present. His smile widened as he muttered the curse. There was no need to hide his wandless abilities. The boy couldn't see him anyway and if he were discovered that would be the least of his worries.

"Imperio."

Forcing the Ravenclaw to stand there as if nothing had happened, Zee quick stepped by three times, thinking forcefully.

We need an unrecognizable room that none may enter who aren't standing here now.

The door appeared in the solid stone wall and Zee promptly had the boy walk forward and enter the room. Glancing around nervously, Zee followed, closing the door behind him. The room was pure white. Walls, ceiling and floor were impossible to distinguish as there seemed to be nothing except whiteness all around. Zee paused to admire the oddness of the room, leaving his victim standing there, expression as blank as the chamber in which they stood.

[Dylan Cooper]

His mind going from almost unbelievable amounts of recurring thoughts about grief and memories passed to just about nothing at all, Dylan felt a luxurious happiness wash over him. Suddenly willing to do anything for the hidden caster, he experienced only the light, floating feeling associated with the Imperius Curse, almost not thinking at all. Still unable to see who had conjured it, this was completely absent from his mind as he simply stood in place, soon seeing the now-familiar door appearing.

In the back of his mind, something nagged at him. Willed him to think, to do something, anything. Something was not right. His already overwhelmed mind, however, was even more cooperative with the unswerving desire to do anything for the unknown witch or wizard than he might normally have been. There was really no way of knowing, however, as he’d never experienced such a curse upon his persons before.

The actual thought remained at the base of his mind, pushed aside by his willingness to remain in this perpetual state of ecstasy. It was as if every negative emotion he’d previously held had been completely and utterly removed from both his conscious and subconscious mind; there were no more dead relatives, no more abusive foster brothers. There was nothing but the endless bliss of being controlled by another, not having to make any decisions or put any trace of thought into any of his actions.

Seeing a room that was as yet unbeknownst to Dylan, he entered it without a second thought as he was commanded to. His eyes closed against the harsh white light, he re-opened them blearily, and they remained at a squint. It was not the normal sort of expression one might see upon someone struggling to gain decent eyesight, however, as his face remained quite dazed and ever-so-slightly pleasant looking.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Zee cracked his knuckles in preparation and grinned devilishly once more. As he moved up to the boy standing there placidly, his eyes widened slightly with recognition. It was Dylan Cooper, the boy he suspected of being romantically entangled with D'rorah Philosophy. This offered some intriguing possibilities. Zee again pointed at the boy and whispered a simple summoning charm, a wand flying to his grip from where ever it was stored on Dylan's person. Tucking it securely into his own back pocket, he aimed his hand toward to boy yet again.

"Locomotor mortis."

Legs immediately locking together, Dylan fell face down to the luminous white floor. Zee smirked and rolled the younger boy over with his toe, gazing down at him in pleasant anticipation. It was a bit of a risk betting on the boy not being able to weave spells without a wand, but since the vast majority of wizards could not, it seemed a reasonable assumption. Swishing his hand through the air as if batting at an annoying insect, he dispelled the imperius curse.

"Hello Dylan."

His voice was raspy and hoarse, more a harsh whisper than anything else. He couldn't have the boy recognizing his voice. That would be nearly as bad as just recognizing his face. In the odd glow put out by the entire blank environment it was obvious where he was, despite his disillusionment charm. It was however impossible to tell exactly what he was, to make out his shape. To Dylans eyes he would appear as nothing more than a bizarre distortion of the light that seemed to softly exude from every bit of the landscape. the word "stupefy" was ready on his lips should the boy prove troublesome.

[Dylan Cooper]

His wand soaring away, Dylan watched it happily, not quite realising the implications of such a thing. Gazing unseeingly toward the direction in which sounds were emanating from, his dreamy expression remained even as he became vaguely aware of the fact that his legs snapped together. Toppling forward, he found that as no commands had been issued he didn’t attempt to brace himself or prevent injury from the fall; albeit it, it was a small one. Still, it hurt.

Feeling himself turned by a seemingly careless foot, the small panic residing in the back of his mind came fully to him as the Unforgivable Curse was lifted. His eyes darting around in panic, he struggled to rise, a feat that was incredibly difficult with bound legs, as he heard a hoarse greeting echo from an odd patch of wall. His quick senses returning to him immediately, all sense of grief, pain and loss had evaporated under the threat of imminent danger. Realising that this particular someone must be under a kind of Disillusionment Charm, his strong arms lifted his upper torso from the ground quickly, though the uselessness of his legs remained a complete hindrance. Nonetheless, he swivelled himself around and attempted to crawl from the room of dazzling white.

Recollecting, from what he remembered of his dreamy state, the fact that he was within the Room of Requirement, he felt completely hopeless. Not only was this room undetectable to anyone who didn’t know of it, it was the middle of the night, and he now had no wand to defend himself. He was a decently strong boy, but considering his unseen opponent now had twice the amount of wands as per usual, and he had none, Dylan didn’t see a pleasant outcome from this scenario. What he also managed to decipher, was that he knew the person, and that they sounded like a male. For once, he blessed the fact that the number of girls at this school outweighed the boys this year, and also appreciated the fact that he knew barely any boys. Perhaps, however, it was merely another person from one of his many classes throughout the years. The list was, quite possibly, vast, but at least he had a place to start.

The knowledge of deciphering his captor, however, was quite useless in aiding his escape. Grimacing, he ceased his feeble efforts to escape and turned back around, his legs dropping solidly back to the ground as he swivelled on his hands. Grimacing slightly, he faced the dancing form of light before him and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you? What do you want?” He didn’t really have much hope that the person would describe his identity, not when he was clearly disguising himself. The latter question, however, he didn’t consider very important. It didn’t altogether matter what he wanted if he were to harm Dylan anyway. This being the only thing he could think of to possibly delay the imminent, his mind worked away furiously in an attempt to discover some means of escape that had not yet occurred to him. Finding nothing straight away, however, he simply stared the glowing light down. Perhaps learning all he could about the demeanor, actions and words of whoever was hidden by the advanced magic, he could help himself later.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Look at the pathetic worm squirming about. What does he hope to accomplish we wonder? Oh he knows. He knows this is going to hurt. Good.

"You can't go. We haven't had any time to play yet. We are nobody of consequence, and yet for the present we are all the world to you. As for what we want, do not worry yourself about that. It will all become quite clear."

Zee wanted to take his time with this. He wanted to make it last for hours. Perhaps longer. But he was not prepared. He hadn't expected this opportunity and thus was not in a position to spend the entire night tormenting the boy. Ah well. He would take what he could get. Swishing his hand through the air so that his finger pointed from Dylan's shoulder to the opposite hip, Zee croaked out a severing charm.

"Diffindo."

Dylan's shirt was slashed cleanly down the line Zee had indicated, but the spell went deeper than that. Along that same line Dylan's skin split open neatly. The cut was not deep, certainly not imminently life threatening, but it was enough to bleed considerably and was likely not terribly comfortable either. The process was repeated twice more, slitting his shirt again down each sleeve and leaving two more bleeding wounds.

"Yes, let us see that wonderful flesh, so tender, so malleable. Let's find out what marvelous colors and shapes we can mold from it, what lovely designs we can carve into you. And the sounds. Oh the sounds! Mobilicorpus!"

Dylan was lifted from the ground, hanging vertically as the blood ran down his torso and arms, dripping to the glowing floor from his fingertips. The bloody tattered shirt remained on the ground behind him.

"Are you ready?"

[Dylan Cooper]

The words that came next sent shivers down his spine, and he immediately reconsidered the notion that delaying him with questions would be effective somehow. If anything, the response had just made him more anxious, though he showed nothing of that outwardly. Not entirely expecting it, considering he could see no wand raised, only a shimmering, formless light, Dylan grunted and clenched his jaw as he felt a red-hot pain shoot across his upper torso in a diagonal line. Determined, no matter what, to not call out, he took the next two wounds in silence. The only indication that he was in immense pain would come from his tensed jaw and his eyes, which closed briefly as if such an act could dispel the pain.

His shirt soon become quite useless, something that was not exactly on the very forefront of his mind, and completely covered in blood. His arms and chest bleeding profusely, though the wounds didn’t appear to be very damaging in any way, he felt himself drawn vertically upwards as another spell hit him. Recognising it immediately, he didn’t think that was particularly useful at the moment and forced his mind to continue developing a plan. He couldn’t just take this, he had to do something.

The next few sentences emitted from the unknown wizard’s mouth gave Dylan the distinct feeling that the boy was insane. Clearly, he was enjoying this very much. Still refusing to respond through words in any way, his eyes briefly glinted with fear as an ominous question was directed towards him. Swallowing so that, for some reason, he was aware of it, he braced himself for horrors to come.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Stubborn this one. He does not wish to call out. Ironic that, since the sooner he does the sooner we will leave him be. How unfortunate that we do not have time to do this properly. Ah well, I suppose his scream of pain and terror will suffice until we can set up a more lengthy meeting.

A savagely sadistic grin spread across Zee's face at the fear he saw etched into his victim's eyes, though of course no one knew this but Zee as his face was a shimmering mass of nothing. He indeed would make this boy scream out before he was done, so he told himself determinedly. For the moment he would persist with physical pain, though if that proved insufficient or if he simply grew bored with it he would try and reach into the mind, any defenses likely weakened by the torture, and see if he could pull something out he could use.

Not wishing to resort to the cruciatus curse until the climax of his little session, Zee instead thought of a couple ways in which he could inflict terrible pain. Some were more creative than others, but he suspected each would be effective. Looking from the boy's face to his mop of somewhat greasy hair, Zee clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Dear dear, you haven't been taking care of your hygiene as meticulously as you should Dylan. Your hair, it is an absolute mess. Perhaps we can clean that up a bit . . . Incendio!"

Maintaining the raspy, unrecognizable alterations to his voice, Zee flicked his hand toward Dylans head and his hair burst into flame. Zee assumed a pensive pose as he considered the bright flames and the horrific pain they must be inflicting on the boy's scalp. Not quite satisfied, he gestured toward Dylan's feet and muttered the spell again, setting those alight as well. Not intending to let the boy die, Zee waited hopefully for a scream, ready to douse the flames once they looked as though they may begin doing lethal damage.

[Dylan Cooper]

Hearing a small clicking sound, he pinpointed the location of his attacker once more and practically snarled at his comments. Noticing that, again, the unknown male used his name, he stored that in his mind. For the first time, for some odd reason, he considered the concept of his torturer being a professor. Either that, or again, the only other two possibilities his threatened mind could consider. A talented and advanced student who was younger or the same age as Dylan, which would indicate a Ravenclaw, though he didn't discount the other Houses. The other option, of course, was simply a senior student with any amount of brains. Disillusionment Charms were the work of seventh years, not to mention the extensive range of heavy-duty spells currently presenting themselves.

Deciding that the identity of his attack could possibly wait in light of the imminent threat, he reasoned that perhaps it was a sort of defense mechanism. If he focused on their identity, rather than what they were doing, maybe he could feel as though this wouldn't be in vain; he could potentially identify another under the instruction and rule of the Mage. Dylan was an insightful boy, and he also realised that he was highly likely to blame himself for this incident. The idea of not discovering who did this was inconquerable to him, and he simply didn't like it one bit.

Feeling the most excruciating pain he'd ever experienced stretch over his scalp all at once and consume his every thought, his every emotion, Dylan screamed. So much for remaining silent. He couldn't even think straight but for the pain; and the same spell being cast upon his feet by no means helped his plight. Wishing only for it to end, his screams continued. Never, in all his fifteen years of living had he experienced such pain; not even with the damage inflicted by John. He'd had several broken ribs, chipped teeth, giant gashes all over his body, an ever-present scar above his eyebrow, his head bashed into a concrete pavement, and endless punches and kicks all over his body. Yet with all of that combined, he had never felt such extreme pain, and indeed, didn't think such a thing was possible. One did not need the pain of the Cruciatus Curse when you had this spell, in his mind. Had he been a little more rational at the present time, he'd have considered the implications of this current curse; having to douse the flames for one to survive, and the body could only take minimal amounts of this before collapsing into nothingness, but the Unforgivable Curse of torture could be used for much longer, without the annoying adverse effects of the victim dying too soon.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Ah, such sweet music. We have not heard it for far too long. The Alessandro creature being slashed by the shadows was nice, certainly making the entire trip into the forest worthwhile, but this . . . Oh how it will be difficult not to burst out laughing whenever we see this boy in the halls. Best put him out though. We don't want to burn much past the skin now do we?

"Aguamenti."

Zee had spent some few seconds standing with his eyes closed, basking in Dylan's shrieks before finally dousing the flames at both his top and bottom with blasts of water from his palm. He kept up the powerful currents long enough to ensure the flames were fully drowned. Of course this meant a face full of some fairly strong water pressure for Dylan. Not enough to cause injury of course, but certainly uncomfortable and likely enough to make him struggle for breath at the end of it.

"There there Dylan. Shhh. It's ok. We're here to save you. Save you from a life of weakness. That which doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? So just think how strong you'll be at the end of this. Unless of course it kills you, although that would effectively save you from a life of anything, including weakness. So really the claim holds true no matter the outcome. Oh dear, you are making quite a mess with all that blood. Let us see what can be done. Episkey. Tergeo."

The slits along Dylans torso and arms immediately resealed, leaving no marks. The blood that had been flowing regularly from the three wounds was all gathered at the middle of his chest, then lifted off. Dropping to the floor with a soft splattering sound, the mass of partially coagulated blood splashed slightly, a few droplets just reaching Dylan's raw and blistered feet. His shoes had been consumed by the flames.

"There now, look at all that flesh that was hiding beneath that crimson flood. All pristine and fully healed. Let's see if we can give you some permanent marks shall we? Something to remember us by. Furnunculus."

Large, angry boils bubbled up all over Dylan's bare torso and arms. Walking around the levitated boy to inspect his handiwork, Zee's voice took on a clearly disappointed tone, despite remaining hoarsely disguised.

"Oh no no no. We don't like this at all. These simply will not do. We must remove them, yes. But . . . oh dear, we seem to have forgotten the counter-jinx. No matter, we'll simply remove them another way. Sectumsempra."

A boil on Dylan's right shoulder was suddenly lopped clean off, an openly bleeding wound replacing it.

"Ah yes, that works masterfully, but there are so many to remove. This may take awhile. Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra. Sectumsempra."

With each well aimed dark curse, another dome of aggravated flesh fell to the ground, leaving many, many roughly circular wounds on Dylan's upper body. Zee continued his work merrily, determined to get them all.

[Dylan Cooper]

A few more moments of unbearable pain, which might very well, as far as he was concerned, have been hours. And then, sweet release. He didn’t mind the fact that a jet of powerful water was shooting onto his feet or face, he was just incredibly grateful that the flames had abated. The impact of such cold, raw power against the previously flaming skin, however, stung beyond anything. The rapid change of temperature was not something his skin dealt with well, blisters rising all over his feet, ankles and scalp. Taking a few shuddering, anguished breaths as the steady stream of water ceased flowing, he was dully aware of the words being spoken. Such obvious malice and malcontent for Dylan sent figurative shivers down his spine, and a grimace was clearly evident on his features.

His profusely bleeding wounds, completely forgotten under the pain of burning, had vanished. Dimly, he was aware of the fact that his unknown captor must have healed them over, taking all the blood with whatever cleaning spell or spells they had used. Dread filled his heart at the next words issued from that horrible mouth. Permanent marks… He’d never considered himself very vain, but presented with such a statement, ominous thoughts loomed in his mind, which was also still recovering from his brief bout of flammability. Grunting loudly as he felt pain bobble up all over his body, he closed his eyes against the pain; something which did nothing to aid him. Recognising the spell, he knew what he would find if he ever cared to observe his body again, and didn’t like it one bit.

Bracing himself as the evident lunatic spoke once more, he felt slashed throughout his body, doubling the amount of pain at each source. His arms, his legs, his torso and a small patch of his neck were consumed by the feel of his raw boils being lanced through use of dark magic. Emitting a small moan of pain with each spell, each became very slightly feebler as the process continued. Dylan had simply never experienced such things through magic; physical beatings he’d had plenty of, but this was a realm that had been, before tonight, completely unbeknownst to him.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Zee had not gotten far in his gruesome chore when he grew weary of it. The little moans and grunts he was getting were not nearly so satisfying as the screams had been. And they were growing fainter, causing Zee to worry he may be doing too much damage to the boy. The boils were doubtless painful, but were not truly dangerous. Those that had been opened were bleeding, but not sufficiently that he should be near death. Zee considered setting him ablaze again. That had proven quite enjoyable. But he wasn't sure how much more of that the boy could take before succumbing to unconsciousness and perhaps worse.

The night wears on. We should make haste. Time for the grand finale.

Zee's sadistic grin widened as he cracked his knuckles in preparation. This was what he'd been waiting for. He hadn't had this pleasure since he had first revealed himself to his parents, and that was a brief session as well. Someday soon Zee would have to set up a proper appointment, one in which he could spend hours. But until then he would have to merely get on with this and move along. Wyst may be waiting after all. The thought gave him pause, but he shook his head, waved his hand, and croaked out the curse.

"Crucio."

Ah yes. Yes how we have missed that sound. Scream all you like boy, the pain will not end.

Thinking the boy could use a few more marks as well, Zee sent wave after wave of sectumsempra at him, each spell designed to draw a line across his arm or shoulder, never cutting too deeply. His goal was not to injure, but to cause pain. A severed arm would not hurt any worse than an arm covered in a thousand small cuts. Zee circled his victim, sending multiple curses to draw bloody little lines across his chest and back as well. The idea of leaving three cuts in the shape of a "Z" crossed his mind and made him smirk, but he wouldn't be so reckless. It would be disastrous for any to identify him as Dylan's tormentor.

The cruciatus curse doing its work nicely, Zee decided he could move on to the mental agony.

"Open up Dylan. We're going on a little trip. Legilimens."

Zee was not an accomplished legilimens, but was sure he could find something. Weakened as the boy was, his mind couldn't possibly be well guarded. Zee suddenly found himself standing on soft, spongy ground covered in lush grass. All about him were tress and shrubberies. This clearly wasn't the forbidden forest, and Zee wondered where in Dylan's mind he could be, what memory he could have accessed. Moving on to find something more obviously useful, Zee halted quite suddenly as he found himself atop the Astronomy tower standing beside both Dylan and D'rorah. Their smiles, their body language . . . it was evident that they were enjoying themselves, though Zee could make out no words.

As if suddenly hurtling forward in time, the scene around Zee sped up and he was yanked down the tower and into the Ravenclaw common room. How odd. Dylan sat in the very seat Zee had occupied the night he first met Dylan, when he'd followed D'rorah into her common room to continue their research. And then Zee was inside Dylan, as if he were experiencing what Dylan had that night. Zee could feel Dylan's emotions, the way his heart sped up slightly, the way the scent of the girl he was with made him tingle. Every bit of it reminded him excruciatingly of the last time he'd met Wyst in the tower.

Zee pulled his consciousness back out of Dylan's mind with such force that he fell over backward. He lay there for a few moments, feeling an entirely unpleasant twisting in his stomach that he'd never remembered feeling before. Growing more aware of the world about him once more, Zee heard the screams and saw the suffering Dylan was in and felt his stomach wrench tighter. He couldn't comprehend why, but he couldn't stand to watch or listen any longer. Franticly waving both arms toward the nearly unrecognizable Ravenclaw, he veritably screamed the incantation.

"Finite Incantatem!"

[Dylan Cooper]

Feeling, subconsciously, as if he’d never be quite the same again, Dylan’s conscious mind was more focused on the cracking of knuckles that pervaded his all-round feelings of pain. A new experience to him, something that was happening a lot that night, was revealed now in the form of the Cruciatus Curse. His body, already battered with fire, water, boils and many wounds caused by dark magic, felt limp and not like his at all. Small moans escaping his mouth, something which he could by no means, unfortunately, control, he remained spellbound in mid air, beginning to twitch and scream as the curse hit him. The inflamed and already wounded areas of his body tripled in their pain to create the feeling within him that he’d want nothing more than to simply curl up and die. He’d never been the suicidal type, no matter the circumstance, but such enormous pain from which he could not detract himself was a concept almost as unbearable as the pain itself.

Tilting his head back, the scream that issued from his mouth became all the more audible, feeling the impact and ripping sensation of his skin where fresh curses hit his body. The damage was, for now, only being inflicted upon his upper limbs; the arms and shoulders. Dylan was quite sure, though his mind was too distracted to notice, that more would ensue. This maniac wouldn’t simply settle for the damage he’d done; the other areas of his body would not be spared. Sure enough, the most amounts of pain moved from his forelimbs to the broad areas of his back and chest. My my, how the scars were stacking up.

Through his complete agony, he knew his mind was being invaded. Memories flashed through his mind; walking through the Elemental Room of Earth inside this very chamber. Had he had any defences left whatsoever, he might have tried to block this image from his mind; as it was, however, such a thing was not possible. In the next moment, he seemed to have moved on as if such a memory were only a trifle. If he hadn’t been screaming, he might have sighed a breath of relief. No matter the pain he was in, he realised that at all costs his secret and that of the other lightfighters must remain. In the next moment, he found himself talking to D’rorah on the night they had met, talking and enjoying themselves atop the Astronomy tower. Flowing through the events of the night, he then found his memory at the common room, later that evening. The vision, while unable to convey the intimate feelings of the time and conquer the pain of the Unforgivable Curse, provided him with images of D’rorah. Such a thing could only strengthen him, and he stopped screaming, despite the continued agony of the spell laid upon him. His jaw clenched and eyes watered at the effort, but no more sound issued from his mouth as he clung to the image of D’rorah in the firelight, her features lit beautifully and a soft smile residing on her face.

Feeling the memory fall, the image of the woman he loved remained before his eyes as Dylan heard the sounds of someone falling over. A particularly painful burst, and he screamed once more, completely unable to control it. Finally, after who knows how long, the pain ended. It all ended. Falling to the floor himself, he lay face down, a crumpled mess. He was bleeding from almost everywhere, from both lanced boils and great gashes into his skin. The pain of the curse had left him with a residing feeling of simply aching, and the remaining few boils and many cuts did nothing to ease his suffering.

[Zane Lucifer Bishop]

Crawling over to the bloody mess that was the young Ravenclaw, Zee immediately reached to turn the boy over onto his back, but stopped. He wasn't sure of the extent of the damage and felt he'd vomit if he touched the mangled flesh. Looking about franticly, Zee wondered if the room could provide magical supplies such as potions. He somewhat doubted it. He had to do something to alleviate the boy's pain. He couldn't help but think of Wysteria in such excrutiating torment and how he would fight to keep her from it.

What the hell are you thinking!!! Wasn't it the plan to eventually do this to your precious Wysteria? What the devil is the matter with you? You're becoming as weak and pathetic as the rest of the worthless slime that roams about this school!

Zee almost stunned himself in an attempt to make the antagonistic voice be silent. Shaking his head violently, Zee drew out Dylan's wand. Magic was more reliable when he used a wand, and he felt it would be safer for Dylan this way, even though the wand wasn't his. Using his own would have been foolish. If anyone got ahold of it and used priori incantatem . . .

He had developed a fairly potent healing spell for the purpose of keeping victim's alive until he'd finished with them. Truly significant healing needed the aid of alchemy and potions he'd always believed, but this was something. It would at least ease the suffering.

"Vigoratus!"

He had the presence of mind to whisper the spell so as to keep his voice unrecognizable, though he did so quite emphatically. The boils that still coated Dylan's entire body receded. The slashes however did not seal, as he'd known they wouldn't. The dark magic that had caused them refused any healing spell, and they would likely become permanent marks. The bleeding was stemmed somewhat though, and Zee felt reassured that the boy would live. The blisters all over Dylan's head and feet also seemed less aggravated than they had. Potions and salves should be able to fully repair that damage, and Zee was fairly certain Dylan's hair could be restored as well.

Standing shakily, the penitent Slytherin levitated his poor victim in preparation of moving him somewhere he could be cared for. Just to be safe, he also incapacitated him, ensuring he wouldn't struggle against his tormentor turned transporter and also to remove his conscious mind from the pain that certainly still wracked his body.

"Locomotor Dylan. Stupefy."

Casting a second disillusionment charm over the unconscious Ravenclaw, Zee hurried out the door and back into the sixth floor hallway. Briefly looking around, he made quiet haste for the stairs leading down, Dylan's limp form hovering along horizontally behind him.

((Continued at ragedsyphers.proboards100.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=hwing&thread=1195078980&page=1 ))