Roaring in anger, Priggo spun his hand around, fire tracing behind it, digging deep trenches into the walls of his room. Panting in anger, he clenched his hands into fists, the bed squeezing into itself, the frame cracking and falling apart.

Angel Siger and her little boyfriend, had gone too far. Casting on Priggo, breaking into the Slytherin Boys' dormitory... he would go beyond detention, this time. He would go directly to Professor Snape, and ensure that there was nothing left of Gryffindor's points. They would regret having angered Priggo.

---------------------

Rose watched happily. Though it was unfortunate her master was so emotionally strained, she knew that it was for the best. The angrier he became, the -colder- he became, the harder he would concentrate upon his studies. He would become the man he was born to be, even if Rose had to piledrive a path through the other students to help him reach that goal.

_________________

Priggo roared in anger as the card reader stalked out of the boys' dormitory. He would not be anyone's puppet, he would not be in any witch's pocket. "I'll see your strings cut, woman!"

His face drained of all color, he merely had to flex his arms as the door of his room exploded into a shower of splinters. Panting, he flung open his trunk, reaching in to grab the implements of his trade that had long been lost to him. Tucking the knife into his belt, and his wand into his robe, he spun around, his cloak billowing luxuriously, and descended the ladder into the common room.

It had been so long since anything had gone right for him, he was starting to look back on his past, and wonder if he was really as strong as he had thought. For the first time in his life, he doubted himself.

The runes on his body sizzled and burned at him, as the force of light that had once guided him dimmed, that ancient, angry Priggo, taking control once more.

Rose merely followed, secretly delighted as Priggo returned upon that well worn path, the path, towards his destiny.

_________________

Priggo cursed under his breath as he read the note. His eyes scanned it over and over again.

------

We've been watching you for a while now. Your presence will be well recieved in our group. Please meet our operative in the Jagged Moon in Hagshaven.

------

Crumpling it into a ball in his hands, he tossed it to the wind, as it was destroyed by some, dark magic. His eyes passed over the water, as the boat carried him slowly off to Pinboria.

He had always hated surprises. He was hoping they didn't hate them nearly as much as he did.

_________________

He smiled, looking over the edge. Nothing but one hundred feet of peace, waiting to embrace him. The wind picked up a bit, and he had to hold on to he railing to brace himself. Behind him, Rose was frantic, hissing and purring, desperately trying to coax him back onto the ledge, off of the steel bar he currently sat upon, staring down.

The wind changed directions, as the whole tower seemed to lurch forward, Priggo's hair falling free from within his hood, blowing along with the breeze. The lake didn't seem so intimidating from up here, indeed, it seemed to look up at him invitingly, as if daring him to come down and meet it.

Rose, acting quickly, grabbed onto the edge of Priggo's robe, as the wizard nimbly bounded from the railing to the nearby tower, sliding down its side, landing on the balcony of the floor below. His robe was torn, a bit of it in his panther's jaws.

Wrapping the curtain from within the window around his arm, he leaned forward, his eyes closed. His hood fell from his face, as he swayed from the tower, gently rocking back and forth in the wind. Rose, in one final act of desperation, launched herself from the rampart, frantically clawing at the side of the tower, hoping to knock her master inside the window.

She missed, slipping down the side of the castle, her perfectly sleek, muscular form disappearing into the shadow below. Priggo smiled gently, as she cried out in desperation. Even as she fell so many floors, her only thought was Priggo's safety, and he appreciated her, he really did.

His thoughts passed over Donald for a moment, and how he had tried to commit suicide after Gabrella's rejection. He laughed at the irony of this, calling Rose's soul back to his gem.

Merely closing his eyes, he leaned further from the tower, gravel and dust falling from where he had his footing. He had tried, and thats all he could have ever done. But it seemed that no matter what he had done, he just [censored] everything up more, and screwed himself more and more.

Ah well, he'd killed men before. Maybe it was time he apologized to them in person.

_________________

He spent the night sitting in the chair by the fire in the Slytherin commons, turning the events of that afternoon over in his mind again and again. Something had happened, and it was something big. He looked to Rose, who lounged casually by the fire, looking up at him.

For what seemed like the tenth time that night, the whole scene flashed in his mind:

He had given Joki Wilde permission to leave the school, to do homework. He had seen Creed go with her, and had decided to follow. He hadn't given Creed permission to leave, and was determined to enforce the rules. He had traveled... into... a book. And he was in a place he remembered fondly, he was back in China.

This is where he had killed the pair of dragons as payment, to that old, chinese man. This is where he had acquired his katana, and this is where he had heard of what Lucian had been doing.

He saw Joki and Creed standing... they must have been talking or something. He was about to approach them... and then there was darkness. The next thing he remembered, was Rose pouncing at Creed, her fangs bared, tearing at him with her claws. He was trying to bat her away, when he jinxed her. Priggo had looked around, dumbfounded.

Joki had said something to him... Priggo closed his eyes, thinking.

"... like having a taste of your own medicine?" It flashed in his mind. His hands tightened into fists, as he opened his eyes, looking into the fire. There is only one thing that could explain what had happened... His memory had been altered. But by whom? He juggled Joki and Creed in his mind. Rose had been attacking Creed... it was probably he who had casted against Priggo.

A smirk slowly spread across Priggo's face, as he reached down to give Rose a few affectionate pats on the head. He wouldn't turn either of them in, oh no. He wouldn't even go to Professor Snape. He had greater plans for Ms. Wilde. She would learn how foolish she truly was. She had only seen the barest glimpse of his strength.

He had found a new test subject for his spells.

_________________

The two figures moved quietly among the trees, snow falling around them.
The sun had just dipped behind the line of mountains in the distance, and
everything was momentarily still.

"Your wand, drop it."
"Like hell-" was all she could choke out, before falling to her knees in pain.
The aggressor planted a well-polished shoe over her face, pushing down,
hard. She coughed and sputtered, laying limp in the frozen grass.

"... an attempt to modify my memory was made. By whom?"
"... I... I don't know..."
"Wrong answer."

She roared in pain, her arms thrashing about wildly in the snow. He sat,
looking down at her, flooding every bit of pent up rage into the spell.

"... it was... it was me..."
The wizard nodded in reply, removing his hold on her.

The night approached quickly, as the temperature dropped dangerously.
The stream had nearly stopped moving, frozen over with ice. The two
figures were still moving about in the dark, this time, one being dragged
by the other. They approached the old well, as the wizard peered into the
murky depths.

"I wonder how long you can hold your breath, Ms. Wilde." She was quickly
bound to the bucket of the well, her arms securely fastened behind her
back. Her legs were bound at the ankles. There had been tears, by this
point. She had sworn to him to do anything... she would have sold him her
very soul by this point.

He was deaf to her pleas for mercy.

Even after that boyfriend of hers had arrived, he had only stopped in his
work long enough to ask a few more questions... just a few.

Setting her slender form up on the edge of the squat stone wall of the
well, he allowed her to gaze down into the darkness. Her eyes, red and
bloated, were full of fear. She could stand everything else, but the cold,
dark water below was too much.

Creed was begging, by this point. They both were.

"... she had even tried to take the fall for you." The young wizard
contemplated happily, as he adjusted the ropes binding her arms one
last time. Barking a few more orders to his sister, he put his hands on
her sides, whispering.

"The flapping of dove wings, Ms. Wilde."
"... please... anything..."

Even as she floundered at the bottom of the well, her lungs denied their
precious resource, he spoke calmly to the dark skinned man tied to the
tree. He was, of course, promising vengeance. Such threats no longer
worried him, not anymore.

"... I swear... I swear... I'll [censored] kill you..."
"Neither of you will be leaving this forest alive, Creed."

Back in the well, the splashing had stopped, she had finally stopped
struggling. Pulling his hood back, he looked up into the dark sky, squinting
as snow continued to fall.

Gesturing to his sister once more, he had Creed blindfolded. He had the
witch pulled from the well, barely alive. He had them dried, and healed.
He had their wands returned. He had them laid side by side in the snow,
a pile of cigarettes tossed about them (some smoked, some not).

He had their memories erased, he and his sister quite invisible.

They left the two in the snow, hopefully ready to continue another of their
happy nights together. He was comfortable, composed, calm and
collected.

He wished them no more harm... he had taken all he needed.

_________________

Priggo stared at the knife, his eyes wide.

"... Death Eaters... in the school."

_________________

"Hrm..." Priggo flipped through the pages of yet another tome. Already
there was a great pile of them behind him in the library. He had scanned
the chapters of nearly fifty works, each time growing more frustrated. He
couldn't get it out of his mind.

Slamming the book closed, he frowned, gazing out the window. A thin
sheet of mist had settled in, obscuring the view of the grounds below. Yet
even with the windows frosted over, you could just barely make out the
edge of the forest, looming in the darkness.

Out there, the stone beckoned. Priggo could feel it calling to him. His eyes
flashed for a moment, remembering the terror in the eyes of the hounds.
Normally fearless in their pursuit of flesh, they had scampered away, their
tails between their legs.

Priggo rubbed at his mutton chops, that usual feeling bubbling up in his
stomach. It was the sort of feeling that he suspected normal children had
when they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Pulling his
hood up over his head, he tried to put the fear out of his mind.

Snape had looked worried. Even he feared the power of that artifact,
that object of Priggo's desire. He didn't want Priggo going through with his
plan... but... Somehow, Snape knew that nothing would keep Priggo from
attempting to complete his objective.

"... what could scare Snape?" Priggo imagine Madam Pennylane once
more, coiled helplessly in the sand. Even Rose had been disturbed by
what they saw.

What could frighten animals of all kinds? What could drive Snape to warn
Priggo to stay away? What could summon fog, and wind, and mist and ice?
What would happen if Priggo took... just a sliver of that rock? Perhaps...
he could carry it with him? Wear it at the end of a chain? Maybe have a
piece inserted just under his skin?

Priggo adjusted his gloves, the runes on his chest, ankles and palms
burning momentarily. It was as if the very flesh on his body was trying to
ward him from that cold place. Such warnings would only drive him on,
however. He would not be denied what was rightfully his.

_________________

His eyes narrowed. His hair whipped violently against his face, his hood
down at his shoulders. Below him the darkness had stretched out over
the cobblestones, fluid like water, running between the crevices and
imperfections of the rock.

He kept himself balanced carefully on the spire of the small church, his
form nothing more than a twisted shadow, striking a brilliant contrast
against the full moon, emblazoned with its glorious light. He leaned out
over the edge of the religious structure, his eyes sweeping over the small
town, searching.

There was only silence. After a few moments, there was a loud *CRACK*
like a whip, only a hazy smoke left in the air where Priggo once waited.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the small wizard was reappearing,
now running quietly across the broken down, once flashing sign of a
cinema. Reaching the end of its length, he hopped into the cold air, once
again vanishing with a *POP.*

His form seemingly whirled into being from the very shadows of a nearby
alley. Leaning against the wall of a run down tenament, he cast impatient
glances up and down the trash filled valley. He had been searching the
city for the past four hours, and found nothing.

He didn't even know quite what he was looking for, but he knew that
whatever it was, he was close.

_________________

"... it is that goal, that thing that drives us, that will forever make the
distinction between us so incredibly clear."

His grip on his umbrella tightened as a smirk appeared on his face.

"For every spell we learn..."

That familiar, warm feeling bubbling up inside of him.

"... for every body we animate..."

His eyes flashing.

"... for every life we end. You're always going to be doing it for yourself."

He didn't bother turning around as Joki pushed open the door. She cast a
final, cold glance to him as she spoke, "I never denied that."

"That's why you'll fail."

She pushed open the door, the whirling snow blowing into the Entrance
Hall as the mighty oak doors slammed shut. It was nearly midnight, and
the cold night had only just wrapped its icy tendrils around the stone
structure, standing atop the hill in the darkness.

"... that's why... every single time... you'll fail." Priggo turned on his heel,
walking down to the dungeons, where a small bowl full of ice chips waited
for him.

_________________

He had faced demons, inferi, mystical sorcerors, potion masters, animals,
giants, squid, dementors, curses and ghosts... Yet now, Priggo Seville was
facing his most horrifying dilemma.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"... k-kids?!" Priggo leaned over the sink, his face pale, before vomiting
into the waste bin for the twelfth time, heaving.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_________________

Drago had come running up to Priggo, out of breath, emerging from the
Great Hall. Gasping for air, he explained what was happening.

"... Jesus Christ." Was all the short wizard could get out before turning,
his umbrella clutched tightly in his hand.

Downstairs, he found Regriam, walking along the corridor, obviously
terrified. She was going to the gardens. Priggo knew she was going to be
meeting Joki there.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. He couldn't see how she could
have been so stupid. Openly threatening two second years? She didn't
have the clout, she didn't have the brass necessary for that line of work.
Priggo had become best of friends with the obliviate spell, a spell Ms.
Wilde apparently didn't know how to use.

"... how could she be careless...?" He slowly, calmly ascended the stairs
out of the dungeons, maintaining his composure as the others raced past
him, eager to see what would unfold.

Slipping into the courtyard, he smirked when he saw Joki. She certainly
made it easy. She played innocent, of course. He hadn't even talked to
Regriam yet, and he knew Joki's plan. The sheer blandness mortified him.
He had hoped that after observing his tactics first hand (however well he
had erased the memories of which...), his creative side to torture would
rub off on her.

She had always been a slow learner.

"... and no such luck, Ms. Wilde, I won't be going to Snape. I'm taking this
up with McGonagall..." He spoke softly, his hand lifted to his prefect
badge, which trembled beneath his touch.

"With what proof?"

"The word of two students?" He laughed briefly. "... and remember, Ms.
Wilde... I've been here long enough to know how easily evidence can be
made." He sent her off to detention, turning to face the assembled crowd.

"And don't worry Drago, she won't harm you." He made his way toward
the Entrance Hall, before pausing. "And if she touches either of them, I'll
kill her."

"I'll help." Came Lucian's voice. But Priggo didn't pay any mind to it,
he'd be taking care of the tramp himself. However much Snape tried to save
his little Ms. Sunshine, Priggo'd make sure that Joki never made the same
mistake twice.

He was starting to question her worth.

_________________

Priggo flexed his arms, glancing around. The air was cold, it was hard to
breathe. It was as if every fiber of his material body was tuned, alert to
his surroundings. This was what Priggo Seville was built for.

Turning on the spot, his eyes passed over the piles of bodies. Some of the
men were still partially alive, groaning, begging for help. The events
flashed in his mind again:

He walked into the room, his cloak billowing out, luxuriously rolling in
waves behind him as he walked. The door before him exploded in energy
as he quickly ducked into the chamber. There were maybe a dozen men
in the room, all of them moving crates and boxes. They all stopped what
they were doing as the short wizard entered.

They paused, unsure of what to do... but Priggo didn't wait for them to
make the first move. He raised his wand, as fiery gas gushed out, filling
the room as the men clutched at their throats. Priggo ducked beneath
the swing of a blade, now sending off waves of burning orbs of energy at
a cluster of men, who in a panic, were trying to escape down the hall.

Now Priggo stared down at the corpses, and looked down that very same
hall. He'd repeated that very scene nearly four times so far. He'd killed
well over fifty men in the past ten minutes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Priggo had come in with Kiranna, and now he saw her, weeping on the
floor. He felt sorry for her... he shouldn't have gotten her involved. He
apparated out, taking her with him.

At Hogsmeade, he looked up at her. "Are you sure you want this?" She
only nodded. He produced a mug of Butterbeer, and handed it to her.

"It'll help, trust me." He offered her a hand. "Friends?"

She accepted. "Friends."

After obliviating her, he returned. As long as the three of them were being
held as prisoners, he could never leave this place.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He sprinted down the hall, stopping to listen at a door. After making his
way inside, he held the man at umbrella-point.

"I've had this conversation before... and every time, your buddies failed
to recognize the chain of command... So I'm going to make it real simple
for you." The blade appeared in his hand, slipping down from his sleeve.

"For every question you answer incorrectly, you're going to lose a finger."

The man immediately bolted for the door. But Priggo was too quick. He
turned, his umbrella pointed at the man's legs, which were shot out from
under him as he slid across the floor, his face smashing into the cold wall.

Priggo was a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar. He made good on his
promise, and removed the right middle finger. The man screamed, oh boy
did he scream. But Priggo was understanding. He stepped forward, the
knife still in his hand.

"Shhhh... I know... I know... shhhh..." He smiled and nodded. "It's ok...
I know, I know..." Raising the knife, he looked the man in the eyes.

"I only need to ask you one question... just one..."

"Please... please just let me go... I don't want to die..."

"I know... shhhh... I fully intend to let you go... but you've got to answer
my question..." The blade held to the man's cheek. "If you were to take
someone prisoner... where would they be held?"

The man panicked, he didn't know the answer.

"... then tell me, where is your boss?"

"Down the hall... down the hall to the right..." Tears dripping down his
cheeks. "... please..."

Priggo nodded, sending the man reeling with a spell. He didn't kill the
him, he had promised to let the man live, and so he did.

Priggo found Delia, Laura and Lucian all knocked unconcious in a room.
They were surrounded by guards, of course. Priggo had difficulty in
finishing them off, but alas... a room full of adult wizards were no match
for a 17 year old student at Hogwarts. The thought nearly made him sick.

He took them with him, and they left.

Standing on the cliff edge, overlooking Durmstrang, he could only sigh.
His hair was burnt, his robes matted with blood, his arms and hands
bruised... It had been one hell of a fight... but damn, it was worth it.

_________________

He wasn't nearly as angry as he thought he should be.

Priggo looked down at the letter, frowning. He scratched at his sideburns
lazily, glancing around the room. So Gabrella was gone. He glanced to
Rose, who yawned indifferently. His grip tightened on his umbrella's
handle.

He wasn't nearly as angry as he thought he should be.

"... I'll have to find a new seeker." He said after a moment of thought,
maintaining composure. Adjusting the extravagant buckles on his cloak,
his eyes shifted down to his hands.

"... f'ing scarred myself for her." He hissed. While only partially true, he
couldn't shake that empty feeling out of his stomach. He immediately
started going through various excuses.

"... she wants me to chase her... she's always been like that."

He wasn't nearly as angry as he thought he should be.

Cursing to himself, he pulled up his hood, stalking from his room. Rose
fizzed and vanished, her essence pulled back into its shell around Priggo's
neck. Tossing a few bundles of gold to nameless first years as he passed,
he made his way back down to the Entrance Hall.

He wasn't nearly as angry as he thought he should be.

_________________

Gabrella's words stung at him like ice:

"My love, do not worry. I am fine. Realizing what I've done, I'm trying to
come back. Yet I've found it's harder than I would have thought... Here,
you can't just leave... that there are things I have to go through first, and
hopefully I'll survive. You can write me anytime..."

Priggo's eyes flashed as the paper in his hands burst into fire, his grip on
his umbrella tight as he shot his gaze across the hall. His hands were
shaking. That empty, hopeless feeling had risen in the pit of his stomach
again, like it always did.

He drew up some parchment, tapping it once with his umbrella as words
sprang onto the page, shining.

"Gabrella, don't you hold out on me. Tell me where you are, tell me and
I'll come for you. Don't be afraid of whoever is keeping you there, I'll deal
with them. Don't try to protect me, Gabrella, don't try to keep me out of it.
I'm coming for you, whether you tell me where you're at or not."

He raised his head a moment, glancing around, before continuing.

He didn't bother telling her how much he loved her in the letter. Not
because he was too nervous to write it, not because he thought she
already knew how he felt, but because the only thing he could think of,
was how he was going to punish whoever was responsible.

He activated his amulet, as Rose sprang into existence.

"Come, my old friend, we have work to do."

_________________