Chapter 3: The Death of the Father.

Alistair was currently sprawled out upon the floor of his father's study. To be more accurate, he was writhing in pain on the floor of his father's study. His plan had gone horribly wrong, with his father noticing him the moment he came through the door. Alistair could tell immediately that his father was beyond simple madness by that point.

The man's rage had completely consumed him, and Alistair knew from experience that when people got like that, they no longer cared who they hurt. And as his entire plan had relied on his father being too focused on his mother to notice him… there was no longer any way he could take advantage of the situation.

Without knowing how to use magic and with his body being much too weak to fight off a grown man, Alistair had few personal options to begin regarding this situation. He would have asked the House-Elves for help if they were not magically bound, as such they could not harm anyone from the Avery family.

Alistair had even thought of speaking with his mother about this plan, but if she had the will to fight back, she would have done so by now. In hindsight, it was probably a spell of some such that alerted his father to anyone entering his study, he spent a lot of time in here, so why wouldn't he take precautions.

'Damn!'

When Alistair took notice of his father's crazed eyes watching him, he knew there were only two options left. Either charge forward, or retreat. Recalling that help was on the way… or rather hoping that it was, he took a chance. He picked up the letter opener on his father's desk, the same one he was going to originally use to kill the man, then ran towards him.

"Leave her alone!"

Screaming, Alistair leaped at his father, who could scarcely believe his eyes. His untalented, weak-willed son was attacking him. He thought the boy was spineless, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe his son would make a worthwhile addition to his lord's forces after all, he found himself elated at the thought.

As his rage turned into insane joy, Sebastian Avery, father of Alistair Avery, soon fell into shock, for he had failed to notice the blade in his son's hand. With a grunt, he stumbled back, as a sharp pain emanated from his chest. Looking down, Sebastian saw a silver knife jutting out from his chest, and his sons' hand holding its handle. Realizing what had happened, his vision turned dark from fury.

"You… STUDID LITTLE BASTARD!"

"You would dare…?"

"To ME!"

"YOUR OWN FATHER!"

Alistair had backed off upon seeing his father's anger up close, not that it saved him. The blade hadn't gone deep enough.

"You're still too weak…!"

Stepping forward, Sebastian backhanded Alistair across the side of his face, sending him sprawling across the floor. Then, with all the force he could muster, he kicked the boy repeatedly. The first kick brought with it the sickening crack of bone, as the arm Alistair used to protect his head was broken at the elbow.

The next landed on his bottom jaw, causing Alistair's teeth to fracture, shards of which pierced into his gums and through his left cheek. The third landed on his ribcage, sending one of his broken ribs into his right lung. Coughing up blood, struggling to breathe, Alistair closed his eyes, waiting for the next kick to land.

'Anytime… now… Saxx…'

Praying for aid to arrive, it did. Just not in the form he was expecting. He felt a pair of arms hold him tight. When he opened his eyes, Alistair saw his mother using her own body to shield him from his father's madness. He could only curse himself again for his own inability, swearing to himself that he would survive and that if anyone ever tried to hurt him like this again, he would rain hell upon them.

He also swore the same for his mother, a woman he had failed to save, a woman that didn't even know that her true child was gone from this world. That would be his penance. For now, however, he could only hope that Saxx had reached Dumbledore by now. Alistair wasn't sure how much longer he or his mother could last.

---

"POP"

Arriving outside the door of the study, the elf in question pointed inside. Nodding to Saxx, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore walked forward. Pushing open the door, Dumbledore walked into a horrifying scene.

On the floor of the room was a mangled young boy, laying in front of a blood covered woman who could scarcely be recognized. The woman lay motionless, while the young boy, who Dumbledore assumed was Alistair, writhing about in agony.

Looking up, Dumbledore saw one of his former students, Sebastian Avery with his wand pointed at the boy, a sadistic smile across his face. The fool was using "The Cruciatus Curse", a spell meant to inflict extreme pain upon its victim, on his own son.

'Sebastian… you mad fool!'

This insanity would stop, here and now. Stepping forward, wand in hand, Dumbledore moved with the practiced grace of a master. Motioning with a swiftness that one would normally not attribute to a man of such advanced age, Dumbledore cast a spell of his own.

"Expelliarmus!"

A blinding, jagged beam of white light flew from the tip of his wand, reaching Sebastian, who by this point had finally come out of his sadistic stupor with a look of shock on his face. The spell was cast with such force, that it sent him flying into the wall behind him.

Crashing into the wall, Sebastian's arms folded into his chest, driving the letter opener, that was still stuck there, into his heart. At being released from his torture, Alistair watched with relief as his father took his last breath in this world. A single thought echoing through his mind.

'Good riddance you bastard.'

The madness now over, Dumbledore shook his head, not able to understand how a father could do something so heinous to their own child. Walking towards Alistair, he wondered whether his other students had fallen so far. Something he would investigate, that he promised himself.

Reaching the young boy, he saw up close the damage that had been inflicted. Seeing Alistair try to crawl to his mothers' side, Dumbledore's heart ached. He blamed himself for not investigating this matter thoroughly when Alistair had first reached out to him. If he had done so, this barbarism may have been avoided. Kneeling next to the young boy, Dumbledore spoke.

"Easy lad."

"Your mother still lives, and a healer is on the way."

Looking at the boy, who upon hearing his words had broken down into tears, Dumbledore cast the few healing spells he knew to stabilize the condition of both mother and child. He then held the weeping young boy's hand, reminding him that everything was going to be all right.

Nearly three minutes later, Professor McGonagall rushed into the room with a kindly looking woman. Seeing the boy holding Dumbledore's hand, Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts most recent "Matron" quickly set to work with great skill.