The fireplace crackled, sending a few glowing sparks whizzing around before dying a few feet from their place of origin. The burst had briefly illuminated a room which could only be described as a small library: books lined the stone walls, most looking as though they hadn’t been touched for decades. The chill room- for it was always chill, even though the fireplace was constantly maintained- had the qualities of a long hallway, stretching from the heavy, dark double-doors which marked its entrance, to the fireplace where a single chair stood, accompanied by a small, round table, on top of which sat a glass of brandy. A pale, long-fingered hand slipped over to grasp the brandy, bringing it to a pair of cruel lips, which even now smirked, though none were around to see them. The glass clinked, ice inside of it struggling to be let loosed, yet the man was obviously no novice to his brandy, and coldly let the ice continue withering inside the drink.

A tentative knock at the large doors brought the brandy from his lips, and his slanted eyes narrowed. “Enter…” he rasped in a deathly low voice, and though he hadn’t spoken very loud, one door nevertheless creaked open slowly.

Footsteps echoed from the polished marble floors, reverberating around the stone walls, and out of the shadows came a boy bearing a startlingly similar appearance to the brandy-wielding man sitting in the high-backed, blood-red leather chair: the same cold, calculating eyes, narrowed in fear and respect; the same high-boned cheeks, flushed with nervousness; the same soft, cruel lips, pulled down into a small frown; the same pale, long-fingered hands, which even now twisted behind the young man’s back, almost as though conveying his need to escape. The most amazing thing of all, though, was the apparent lack of color their eyes possessed, as well as the shock-white quality of their hair. They could have been mistaken for twins, if the man sitting wasn’t obviously so much older, the lines around his eyes and mouth having sunk in long ago.

“Father… you wished to see me.” The youth began after a few moments of awkward silence, addressing the man who sat with his back to him, his gaze on the fireplace.

“Saroph…” the older man rasped. “Saroph, my… -son-.” His lips curled into a smirk at the word ‘son’, as though sharing in on his own, private joke. “I understand you’re feeling your way around your rather… unique position. Are you not?” The voice dripped with malice, carrying a mocking tone as he addressed the boy behind him, the man’s legs switching their positions, from left-over-right to the reverse, crossing them slowly.

“Father…” Saroph spoke slowly, fearfully, though his hands behind his back had turned to fists. “I had only meant to seek your permission, to persuade you. I swear, I meant no disrespect.”

“Saroph, Saroph… you forgot to bow.”

Saroph’s body tensed as the older man’s voice hissed throughout the dark room, his eyes slightly wide as he processed his mistake a moment too late.

“Crucio.”

Saroph’s body twisted, his teeth clenching and sweat erupting from every pore. He fell to his knees immediately, his chokes of protest cut off by the pain exploding through his veins. Even the tips of his hair seemed to hurt.

A moment later, and a gasping Saroph was kneeling before his father, who still sat with his back turned to him. His father’s wand slipped from view, a cold chuckle floating its way toward the shaking son.

“My boy…” another chuckle. “My dear, dear, boy, you –will- learn who is master of this house. It is not Saroph, the vile, wretched spawn I was forced to raise. It is –Virgo-, the –father-, the one whom this family depends on. Not the scum, fourth year -Gryffindor- who even now weeps upon my clean floor. –I- make the laws, and –you- follow them to the letter.”

Saroph, unable to answer, nodded mutely, his head lowered in resignation, eyes obediently to the ground. His hands twisted around each other, still shivering with fear and pain.

“And you dare…” Virgo’s tone changed from mocking to outrage and anger. “You –dare- to defy me in my own house!!” His dark form flashed up from the high-backed chair, knocking it to the side as he strode toward the unfortunate Saroph. “You defy me, and then –lie- in my presence! Your insolence is –unforgivable-!!” Virgo’s hand raised briefly, then fell to land a resounding smack against his son’s face, the cold sweat covering Saroph’s cheek falling away with the strike. The poor boy fell, his elbows meeting the floor hard, his mouth open and eyes clenched shut with pain. Without pausing, Virgo stooped, grabbing Saroph’s fine coat with both hands and raising him with surprising strength, considering Virgo’s frail frame. Saroph found himself face-to-face with his father, his cheek burning red and a small drop of blood rolling from beside his eye, mute testimony to the power of the strike, his toes scraping the floor.

“You… you…” Virgo, obviously beside himself, suddenly dropped his son’s body. Saroph gratefully fell onto his rump, not even letting out a whimper of pain as the seat of his pants met the cold floor.

A few long moments passed as Virgo turned again, his hands clasped behind his back, much the same way Saroph’s had been, although Virgo’s currently trembled with rage instead of fear.

“You… you will tell the Marshall girl that you have withdrawn your invitation for her visit during the summer holidays.” Quickly, with finality.

Saroph waited a few moments before rising slowly, breathing hard with embarrassment and his own dose of anger. His voice remained a bit shakey, yet as his words flowed, they became tinged with a defying, rebellious nature, so customary to Saroph’s core.

“I… will not, father. You know what I’ll do, if you don’t grant this request. Never for a moment think it below me.”

Virgo’s hand snapped out, nearly cutting Saroph short as his fingers dug into his son’s neck. Saroph’s eyes widened for a moment, but he remained steadfast, head held high, even though his lack of oxygen was quickly becoming apparent, betrayed by the rising blush in his neck and cheeks.

The older man’s chuckle cut through the thick air, though he kept his hand wrapped around Saroph’s throat. “I –know- it’s not below you, scum. But you remember this, and remember it well.” His arm jerked, bringing them nose-to-nose, his bloodshot, narrowed eyes looking down menacingly to Saroph’s own quickly reddening orbs. “…you keep it in your pants, my son.” His eyes lowered to Saroph’s crotch before snapping back. “You keep your family’s seed safe, sound… you know you can only bestow your gift once, and then it’s gone, vanished forever… impossible though it may seem for you to impregnate another without the ritual, I will –not- have you diluting the bloodline. This family has lasted for a thousand years by harvesting the very best women, from the very best wizarding families. We have overcome the greatest odds. One child, per generation! That is –incredible-, can you not see this?” His mouth turned into a sneer. “And yet, you… you dare to threaten the stability of the line. You keep this in mind, my son… if even a whisper gets back to me that you’re experiencing carnal relations with other women, I will strip you of your willpower and have you locked in that dark room of yours for another five years, after which I will force your seed from your loins, forcing you through the ritual, and then I will dispose of you. Your body will feed the worms while I raise –that- child, the true heir of my line. And I will do so without a moment’s hesitation. So go. Have your silly relationships. It matters not in the end. You –will- submit to my will, one way… or another. It’s your choice.”

Virgo jerked his arm, tossing his son away like a ragdoll. Saroph sucked in a lung-full of air, his eyes rolling slightly as his hands raised to the red marks on his throat. Feeling them out, making sure the damage wasn’t permanent before prying himself from the floor, coughing.

“Get yourself out of my sight. And tell the Marshall girl that she has three days here, no more.”

Saroph nodded, ignoring the fact that his father had his back turned to him once more, before stumbling toward the large, dark double-doors which marked the exit.

Virgo picked his brandy back up, standing next the the small, circular table and gazing into the fire once again. His eyes narrowed at his son’s insolence, his usual sneer turning to a frown as he realized the implications. But it mattered not, he decided eventually. As long as the bloodline continued unscathed, Saroph was welcome to his attempts at subversion. It only made Virgo’s eventual victory that much sweeter…

His lips returned to their comfortable, cruel smirk as he contemplated his threats. Of breaking Saroph’s will, of forcing him into that room once more, with no light, no human interaction… he raised the glass to his lips as he realized he’d been telling the truth. The complete and utter truth.

_________________
Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that the child be taken, I took him. You cowered before me, I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. Isn't that generous?

-Jareth, Labyrinth

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Saroph Wildanter- 6th Year Gryffindor
Vincent Dawn- 2nd Year Slytherin
Robert Strider- 1st Year Huffterpufft