Tentative Actions, Pt 2

Charles Nott

Charles Nott was sitting by his fireplace, a still open book forgotten on his lap. He was mulling over the last Death Eater meeting. The Dark Lord bringing him back into the circle of favorites made no sense. Despite Nott's status of one of the first Death Eaters, the Lord listened to his option less and less as the organization grew more radical. No, the Lord did not become any more pacifistic. Nott saw the bodies reduced to pulp. And those were average prisoners… He helped Rosier raise undead for the French base assault. Several dozen bodies were so horribly mutilated they were useless. They had to work overtime to raise phantoms… But why did the Lord move him closer? Gave him new orders? Spared the Longbottom boy?

Without warning, his fireplace flared green and let out two figures. The Dark Lord and his student. Nott started frantically arranging his occlumency defenses. The Lord may be a master of the Mind Arts, but he would not be able to get through during a short talk. Nott put his book to the side and stood up to greet his guests. Even though they came uninvited and unannounced… He had to be polite to the Lord.

"My Lord, it is an honor to see you at my manor. If I may ask, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit?"

"Hello, Charles. Unfortunately, I am in a hurry. I am here to introduce you to my student. She wanted to speak with you. Tell her about our organization and goals. And about yourself. Charles Nott, my loyal ally, one of the original Death Eaters. We have known each other since Hogwarts. Elena Ivanova, my student. She can share tidbits of her biography herself if she chooses. I must head back and start on Malfoy's reports."

And the Dark Lord disappeared in the fireplace. It was a bewilderingly polite greeting. Charles was thinking how he should interpret being addressed as "ally" instead of "servant." But that had to wait. He would have accepted if Elena asked for an audience. Though cursing Snape was excessive, her heart was clearly in the right place.

"Would the lady like to join me for dinner? I am sure we can discuss everything over a fine meal."

In addition to house elves, Nott employed several trusted servants under vows. As they were setting the table, he was silently scrutinizing Elena. She looked just like she did at the meeting. Same amulets and shields. When the food was finally served, all her defenses aside from anti-scanning charms went off. Incredibly strange. The usual protocol was to roll down only a part, to be able to put it back up in haste. Without persistent shields, a wizard was incredibly vulnerable to a sudden attack.

Was it a sign of trust? A hint at candid conversation? Next to that, the fact that she used the wrong cutlery looked insignificant. Who knew what customs they had in Russia? Besides, as the Lord used to say back in his youth: "As Tom Riddle, what I do is unimportant; as Lord Voldemort, I make my own rules…"

Caught up in his thoughts, Charles missed the moment she began eating. Usually, everyone checked their food with spells or artifacts. Fist brawls were muggleborn territory; purebloods favored poisons to win before the fight had a chance to start. But she ate and drank with absolutely no safety measures! Sure, he was not suicidal enough to try poisoning the Dark Lord's student. But why would she not check her food?

A cleverly disguised artifact? She might be under a powerful anti-scanner charm, but this was his house. Charles reached for the manor's defenses and focused on the guest. Nothing had interacted with the food… What if the Lord accused him of poisoning her and killed him for it?

"Dear Elena, allow me to check your food."

Charles cast a couple of diagnostic spells.

"Is it to your satisfaction? If you wish, the cook will swear a vow that it includes no extraneous substances."

"No, thank you. I am satisfied."

What did it mean? An insinuation of alliance? A provocation? He did not know.

After the dinner, he gave her a customary tour of the part of the manor that was open to guests: sunny, spacious halls with ancestor portraits. He was still further confused when she hadn't reapplied the shields but had to carry on the idle conversation… Recounting amusing stories from Hogwarts, like the time they mounted a hippogriff and tried to fly, belatedly realizing it was still tied to the ground…

"Do you use Dark Magic?" - Elena asked out of nowhere.

What a bizarre question.

"Well, I do not advertise my illegal skills. But all our people know I am a Master of Blood. I am also proficient in Necromancy and combat Dark magic."

"Do you have prisoners?"

"No. And even if I did, they should not be killed for sport."

Charles immediately noticed he said something wrong. Attempting to recover from this blunder, he began asking Elena about herself. She said nothing concrete: marriage, husband's death, studying under the Lord. He did not dare try legilimency- she had good amulets and could be a good occlument. Besides, he could accidentally learn something highly protected and die.

"If I may ask, what is the Dark Lord teaching you?"

"I cannot say. It is confidential information."

As expected.

"And what is your combat potential?"

"The Dark Lord ordered me not to disclose it."

"Your duel with Rosier is less than a month away. I would recommend surrendering before stepping into the rink. No one is doubting your talents, but Rosier is an extremely powerful and accomplished fighter."

"Let's not discuss this."

Very haughty of her to think she will beat Rosier. But Charles warned her, so now she could do what she wanted.

"I heard you have a child?" she pried.

"Yes. Theodore Nott," he did not like where this was going.

"And what talents does he have?"

How crass. Aside from accidental magic, a child's potential could only be determined with banned rituals. And checking a two year old was complicated.

"His full potential is yet to be determined. But he definitely inherited the family gift of blood magic."

"And what of his mother?"

Charles was liking this conversation less and less.

"She died. A rare disease."

"Why did you not cure her? Didn't find enough material in time?"

Now this was just out of line! Presumptuous and, considering that she was standing in his house with no defenses, stupid. Was the Lord setting him up to kill the girl? It would give him the perfect excuse to kill Nott as a punishment…

"I found the material and prepared the ritual. But my wife refused to live with the price. I let everyone go. And she… she died."

"You made a mistake."

"That is my personal business. Why are you asking?"

She stayed silent. And Charles had an epiphany. Eating and drinking everything was foolish, except for Masters of Blood. Prancing around a stranger's house without defenses was foolish, but for a young and beautiful woman it may be a form of sexual innuendo. Two blood masters would be guaranteed a talented offspring… But however starved Charles felt for a woman's touch, he had long ago stopped thinking with his other head. Sleeping with her was a terrible idea. No one knew exactly how close she stood to the Lord. Another expendable soldier? Lover? Daughter?! She was the first to ever receive the status of his student, so her loyalty must be extraordinary.

And so, Charles launched into a long, rambling monologue. If you stripped off all the polish - he was in mourning over his wife's death. Indefinitely. And could not reciprocate anyone's attention.

Elena looked like she did not understand a word he said.

"It is time for me to go. I have a busy schedule and am running late," she said.

Clearly, she understood everything. There was a sudden colorful explosion in magical sight. In a blink, Elena was covered with shields and concealment charms that almost matched the Lord's.

"I have an assignment for you. You must draft a legislative proposal of werewolf integration into the Magical Britain. Think of suitable lands to offer them, what to teach them and how. I will curate the project."

"Are you certain you can give me orders?"

"It is the Dark Lord's will. Ask him if you like. Please show me to the floo."

When his guest left, Nott stood pensive in front of his fireplace. A bill aiding werewolves… Everyone hated werewolves, this was a loud and clear political suicide. He sighed and threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire.

"Lestrange manor!"

He was already expected.

"Rodolphus, is the Lord in?"

"Yes."

"Can I see him?"

"Wait here, I will ask."

After receiving an affirmative answer, Nott entered the study where the Dark Lord was looking through stacks of papers.

"My Lord, regrading your student…"

"Did she cruciate you?"

"No, my Lord."

"So she does like you… Tell me what you thought of her."

"She behaved very oddly. Asked about my abilities, my child, my departed wife. Walked around my manor without shields…"

"Your conclusions?"

"She must be either an incompetent moron, which is unlikely since she is your student.. Or she is interested in me."

"Masters of blood are rare."

Being treated as a breeding bull didn't sit well with Charles…

"My Lord, she said I must draft a werewolf bill. Under her supervision."

"Then you will. This project is long overdue. And she has no political connections or access to property records. You will help her."

Meaning do all the work and take all the heat at the meeting?

"If I may ask, what is going to be her contribution?"

"She will kill anyone who votes against it."

An unexpected answer… Charles considered asking what she was to the Lord, but he already knew the answer: Crucio. If the girl was a dud, Rosier would kill her. But if she turned out not so hopeless and smarter than she appeared, Charles would be more than willing…

That was it. Lily played her role to perfection. What's funnier, she had no clue what she had done. Nott interpreted all her fumbles very one-sidedly. And now Snape will have rival. The more servants schemed against one another, the better for the master. And if "Elena's" life was ever endangered, Nott would try his best to save her.

After making sure only the Lestranges remained at the manor, I called Wormtail. He was a relatively useless employee who defected to me in fear. I did not even get a chance to cast one tiny Crucio - he betrayed the Potters under the first threat. Always in his friends' shadow… His thoughts reeked of self-pity.

"Peter Pettigrew, Order of Merlin, third class. "

"My Lord…"

I plunged into his mind. Lily's memories of the "maradeurs'" exploits promised a trove of useful information. For instance, Hogwarts hidden tunnels. But Albus may be aware of his students sneaking out to Hogsmeade and monitor the entrances… Did I really have to watch seven years of mediocre school life only to give the information to Snape?

"I need you to draw me a map of all the secret tunnels leading to Hogwarts. You will be properly rewarded."

"My Lord, a map like that already exists. The Marauder's Map. With all of Hogwarts grounds, and the secret tunnels, and people labeled with moving dots. James, Lupin, Black and I made it."

Legilimency confirmed it was true. Fascinating… Only the Headmaster should have such an artifact… Potter and Black were powerful wizards. I have never seen Lupin. This one was average. How did they create it?

"Bring it to me."

"Filch confiscated it…"

Too bad. But I had Snape.

"Is there anything I need to be aware of while using it?"

"Touch it with your wand and recite " I solemnly swear that I am up to no good ." To hide its contents, tap it again and say, " Mischief managed ."

"How did you craft it?"

"We all worked on it, but James applied the final charms. Alone. He said his relatives would skin him alive if they knew, and that he was under a vow that stopped him from telling anyone how he did it."

How curious… What secrets did the Potters hide? Human sacrifice? There have been no deaths at Hogwarts since my Chamber incident. And the headmaster would certainly not miss it. An apparently effortless method for creating high quality artifacts was worth looking into… Not to mention real-time recon of Hogwarts…

"Peter, do you understand that you will never be welcome on Albus' team now?"

"Yes, my Lord.."

"How would you like to earn more glory and riches? The second class of the Order of Merlin?"

"What would I have to do?"

"Perform a heroic deed, of course! Kill a couple of monsters. Save people from werewolves in a public place."

"Will I manage?"

"Absolutely. I will speak with Greyback. Some werewolves are dissatisfied with him. With the help of Snape's mind-altering potions, they will tear into the victims and each other alike, allowing you to heroically defeat them. Just a word of warning: one of them will be your former friend Lupin."

"M-my Lord?"

"No matter what you do, they are all going to die. This way, his death will serve a purpose and elevate your status. You will kill Greyback's top spy and become a celebrated hero. The most important part is baiting him. You will invite Lupin to a pub, to drink for the repose of James' soul."

My plan was brilliant. The Order would lose a member. Lupin was Albus's attempt at proving the werewolves' humanity. He even owned a legal wand and finished Hogwarts - an unthinkable privilege for a werewolf. And a Gryffindor, too. When even Albus's poster werewolf turned out a bloodthirsty monster… And if I timed it just right, close to the hearing of Lily's bill… And Peter will become a true hero. It would be one thing for Elena to kill Peter the unknown halfblood and completely another to kill Peter the defeater the Dark Lord's right hand Black, the defeater of Greyback's right hand Lupin, Order of Merlin of every class, and so forth…

After giving Peter instructions, I sent him back. The next full moon was fast approaching, and I needed to talk to Greyback… And Snape… While they were on their way, I had plenty of financial reports to keep me occupied.

Snape arrived first.

"My Lord, I am at your service."

"How is your mission progressing?"

"Poorly. The Slytherins continue boasting about their heritage, everyone else continues hating them for it. Hogwarts is impenetrable. When I told Albus I wanted to kill you, he dismissed me, saying it is beyond my power."

Horrible. Just as I expected. But Snape will rein in his house sooner or later. Infiltrating Hogwarts… If we will not find any secret passages or artifacts, the Chamber might be worth trying: the basilisk could not survive on rats, so there must be an exit to the forbidden forest. As for Albus not believing in Snape's usefulness… We would stage a dramatic show. Snape defending mudbloods, Snape rescuing the Dark Lord's prisoners, Snape getting leads on Elena. Perhaps I should include Lily, to show her more proof Snape and I were not evil…

"I did not expect instant results. You have another assignment. Get friendly with Filch and discreetly look around his office. You must bring me this map," I conjured a copy. "And now, sit down. Let us refresh your vows."

Having finished with Snape, I invited in Greyback.

The origins of werewolves were shrouded in mystery. Whatever was the cause of their condition, it resulted in XXXXX- beasts with prey drive toward humans. A werewolf went down from one killing curse, but its speed and maneuverability made it a very difficult target. And many weaker spells simply bounced off their tough hides.

In their human form, the only advantages were slightly improved hearing, speed and strength. Some legends spoke of werewolves who learned to subdue their beast, resulting in the ability to turn at will and maintain the human mind in wolf form. Tom had never met one. But he was very familiar with another option: embracing the beast, turning at will at the cost of losing all reason and becoming a deranged maniac as a human.

One of the latter kind now stood before me. Transformed, Greyback was one hell of a monster. But even as a human, he could rip apart a hippogriff with his bare hands.

"Greyback, I am aware of your dream: creating an army of werewolves to slaughter wizards. And I like the sound of it. But you are making a crucial mistake."

"My Lord?"

"You are producing too few werewolves.

Listen to my plan. You are going to gather a dozen of loyal werewolves, the kind that don't care who they turn. Bring them to the base right before the full moon. We will securely restrain all of you with potions, chains and artifacts…"

"My Lord, did I do something to anger you?"

"Not at all. During the full moon, we are going to levitate you the material to bite, both wizards and muggles. We will make sure they survive and offer them to join our ranks. Those who refuse will be portkeyed to our enemies on next full moon."

"But my Lord, who will take down the defenses? The werewolves will gut everyone in sight…"

"Despite all their talents, werewolves can't fly. The Death Eaters will be high above on brooms and release them from a safe distance. Then, the werewolves will be free to gut everyone on the ground."

And I would have a surplus of cannon fodder. This prompted an interesting question: how many could one werewolf turn in one full moon? But even one per month would be great because the newly turned will be ready to spread the curse next month. Whereas Aurors took years to train, I would have a new batch of werewolf reinforcements every month! Werewolves may not be team fighters, but we could always use extra manpower.

As a bonus, this will intensify the persecution, maybe even to the point of genocide, and push all the survivors into my ranks. And after the war… Greyback would become a legendary hero who died fighting for their freedom.

"Go and find werewolves who will be willing to turn people indiscriminately for the war effort. Dismissed."

Enough scheming, it was high time to focus on magic.

Disillusioned, I went to Rabastan's class. Poor guy: he finished Hogwarts yet had tutors in almost every subject. The teachers worked diligently for their galleons, giving him regular homework and tests… And Rabastan did everything without complaints, for the benefit of my charade.

I arrived just in time for the "Rabastan vs. Healing Magic" class. My plan was not to master everything. That had to wait until I secured a safe eternal life. For now, I wanted to learn to win and kill with something other than Dark magic. For instance, this appendix removal spell. Slightly butcher the pronunciation, send it to the wrong coordinates - and you could remove the heart!

I took care to avoid the trap of acting like the smartest person in the room. On my orders, Rabastan demonstrated little "levity," which sent the teacher into a rant with graphic examples of the most fatal mistakes. He even gave references to books dedicated to "what not to do."

Sure, healing magic promised no leads for a super weapon. These spells were created for use on unshielded patients and some were prohibitively slow… Bur muggles had no shields, and I would cast fast. Very fast. Skipping all useless wand movements. So what if the incision was too deep? Or dislocated major joins? My goal was killing, not healing. For example, a botched bone mending charm could vanish all the bones! How long could one survive without a skull? And it was not anywhere near Dark magic!

Aside from surgery, healing magic had other fascinating areas. I was especially curious about sedation and pain-relieving charms. A single hit should leave a weak wizard rolling on the ground in ecstasy or drop him unconscious, leaving me free to finish him off at my leisure. Naturally, it only worked against simple shields. But I had to start somewhere before developing a stronger, defense-penetrating "curse." Death from pleasure… What to call it? The Curse of Ridiculous Death? Eternal Anesthesia? My test subjects would definitely have fun.

So many ideas… After the war, we would need something to bargain with muggles. Resurrection? Exclusively for me. The Elixir of Life? Maybe for Bellatrix and most faithful servants. What to offer muggles? Ideally, new magical drugs! Or a pleasure spell causing dependence… It would be great practice for my youngest recruits and reward for loyal muggles.

Rabastan's next teacher lectured him in Light Magic. Here, Rabastan was stronger than me, whilst far from being scholastically brilliant himself. Aside from the Patronus, I could only do the bare basics. But I was still going to practice. If it turned out a complete failure, I would at least be aware of the enemy's potential. The teacher has never heard of the golden flame and recommended a list of literature that may reference it. Better than nothing…

For Dark magic, I had been reviewing books in my improvised "night pensieve" and practicing on prisoners. Everything turned out much better than my Antipatronus suggested. Most of my Dark spells hit as they always had, but anything directly tied to emotions (that is, the majority of torture curses and some offensive spells) came out significantly weaker. Although, "weaker" was not the right word… Tom had an immensely disproportional talent for emotion-based spells. Mine weakened but still surpassed any other Death Eaters'.

I have been mulling over this problem for the last few days… Tried evoking fear, anger and disgust with legilimency. Drank potions that inspired aggression and malice. Injected muggle-synthesized hormones. Yes, it affected my behavior. Corpses were piling up. But it looked like magic could not be fooled: the feelings must be truly your own…

In my last life, I was a staunch materialist and believed in the empirical picture of the world. All feelings were supposed to directly result from the brain and hormone activity. But manipulating them did not help me cast stronger Dark magic or conjure a stronger Patronus…

Technically, I already had a proof of the existence the soul: my appearance here. And Riddle's horcrux creation. The problems lied in the soul's absolute invisibility to any known magic.

Dumbledore loved pontificating about the power of love, that murder mutilated the soul and so on. Tom always dismissed it as delusional ramblings. But it made me think… The horcrux ritual required murder, so if murder did not split the soul, there must at least be a connection.

Obviously, not every murder qualified… Otherwise, the Aurors and muggle armies would be filled with lunatics like Tom. And Despite Moody's best attempts to apprehend first, he had killed a ton of people, yet no one considered him a Dark wizard…

Maybe Albus avoided Dark magic because it conflicted with Light spells, which he valued more? What if his "Power of Love" was more than just rhetoric? I needed to find a way to test it. I already had some ideas. Very specific ideas… But they had to wait.

My thoughts turned back to the most poignant subject: my soul. The soul existed, and I had to find a way to work with it. How to test something you could not see, feel or interact with? Any data I received would be useless without a point of reference.

So far, I only had two ideas. One was extremely unappealing, but I would probably end up resorting to it. The second… compared to the first, it was the epitome of kindness and simplicity: using Dementors, the most obvious soul specialists.

Once again, I was in the dungeons getting ready for an experiment with several immobilized, fully conscious prisoners and a Dementor.

There were very few effective ways to fight a Dementor, let alone slay one. They burned in fire, albeit badly, and kept regenerating. A corporeal Patronus repelled them, a powerful one could even destroy a lone Dementor. They were also affected by other Light spells, but not anywhere near the extent of the Patronus.

Dark wizards like me had Ekrizdis's Touch, Ekrizdis's Shackles, Ekrizdis's Arrows and a couple more. Fighting Dementors with Dark magic was much more grueling - I could handle ten on a good day.

Were they technically undead? Magical creatures? It did not matter. Dementors understood human languages and obeyed those who benefited them or posed a significant threat. They communicated in mental images and possessed some intelligence, sufficient to tell apart the humans they must obey.

And now I was trying to explain to the Dementor what I wanted it to do. No, they easily understood simple orders like go there, kiss this one or guard that spot. But how to explain "suck out only part of the soul"? I felt like a tourist who caught a jellyfish and was explaining to it how to swim. The Dementor did not understand, maintaining it could only "drink the whole soul or not at all."

When I asked it to describe how souls tasted, the nonsense it spouted made centaurs seem articulate in comparison. Then, I would just have to copy its experiences with legilimency. Interpreting these impressions was a problem for later.

In the meantime, ten immobilized muggles and one wizard were awaiting their turn. If it weren't for occlumency, I would have gone mad from feeling their emotions through the Dementor… A psychedelic cocktail of sensations… Maybe I could sell it as an elaborate hallucination?

Time to get started. First, I wanted to try crippling some prisoners with healing magic. For example, the vomit-inducing charm. What if I added more energy? The subject began vomiting blood. An opportunity to test Evanesco as well, then. Why did it not vanish living beings regardless of power I poured into it? Next, the blood clotting charm. Without a wound, what do we get? Embolisms. I tried to save the patient but was too late… Dementor, kiss this one. In magical sight, the kiss looked no different…

Attempting to decipher the Dementor's feelings during feeding was a total failure. I needed more data to compare the souls.

Next patient. An overdose of cheering charms obstructed breathing. You may have him, Dementor… I tried the scalpel charm on the corpse. With additional energy, the scalpel became a sword. It cut through the body with flying colors but clashed against the simplest shield. Pity.

Next. Anesthesia charms. This one got lucky. Legilimency showed he was high over the rainbow. And if I shielded him? Anesthesia charms did not go through the universal shield and most others… Too bad. Now, the bone mending charm. Excessive power vanished bones from the entire upper body. Surprisingly, the subject did not die instantly. Dementor, enough gorging on their emotions, kiss this one before it is too late.

I was thinking. Riddle preferred burning the enemies to ashes. Why? Burning only the head or vanishing all the bones was just as lethal. I remembered that one time during transfiguration class when someone got onions sprout from his ears… It could have easily been bamboo shoots in the opposite direction, piercing the brain… I needed a list of mistakes in school spells, right away!

All too quickly, I was down to two captives: a muggle girl and an adult wizard. Though, what wizard? That worthless driblet of power hardly qualified as magic. I put him under a mild pain curse.

"Do you know who I am?"

He may not have been able to nod, but he clearly knew I was "You-Know-Who."

"I am going to free you and give you a knife. You will use it to kill this girl. In return, you will get to keep your soul."

As soon I set him loose, he tried to cut his own throat. I stopped it with telekinesis, hit him with a Crucio, then an Ennervate. He finally stabbed the kid. I kept the Dementor away, making sure she died from the wounds.

Now, Perfecticus at the wizard and order the Dementor to try his soul. Would a newly minted murderer taste any different?

"Did all the souls feel the same to you?" I asked the Dementor.

" All souls are different. "

"What about the last one? Does the soul of a wizard or a murderer stand out from the rest?"

" All souls are different in different ways ."

More tests, then.

"I will show you something. Watch but do not attack."

My snake Patronus protectively circled around me as I carefully rolled down all mental shields. A flood of painful memories came crushing from all sides… The orphanage… Horcrux rituals…

"Do you sense me?" I asked.

" Yes ."

"What does my soul feel like?"

" All food is unique. Only consuming it allows me to know the details. "

Well, that was never going to happen. Only one test left.

I immobilized the Dementor with Ekrizdis's shackles. It should contain ten freshly consumed souls. An autopsy might show what they look like…

After two more hours of work and telekinesis practice, I became the owner of a disassembled Dementor. Its flesh resembled a solid mannequin with strange interconnecting tubes inside. I have not found any souls. Either it immediately digested them, or they disappeared… The experiment will have to be repeated… Then carefully and thoroughly compare the results…

The eldest Lestrange was waiting for me outside the dungeons.

"My Lord, the information on Hogwarts diplomas you ordered was just delivered. Everything is in the large parlor."

I nodded and went straight there. The room was filled with space expanding bags holding copies of OWL and NEWT essays from the last hundred years… This would take a while.

Two series of charms later, I was surrounded by ten multicolored orbs that could compare the writing samples. Following the searching charms' orders, ten conjured humanoid puppets began taking out the papers. Actually, a single one of those earned a NEWT in transfiguration and charms… I was only an imbecile in Light magic, not anything else!

I pulled out R.A.B.'s note.

"Search for a match to this. I will make copies for each of you," after cutting out the part about horcruxes and 'mere mortal'. "Place complete matches here and partial matches in this corner. Get to work."

They will last several weeks. I didn't trust house elves or humans, and the Lestranges will stay out of here on my orders.

And here was the first result: Rinaldo Augustus Burke, OWLs of 1856, 34% match. Very unlikely, keep searching. I would check back in a week or two.

I needed to truly rest and think. Maybe try conjuring an Antipatronus with new memories with the Dementor…

But for now, I'd read at the Lestranges' library. Last time I noticed a very interesting book: Cursing a Whole through Its Part . Illegal to possess, of course. Cursing humans was old news. That was the exact reason why no one in their right mind left hair, nails or blood lying around. At the moment, I was more keen on finding out how to curse a phoenix. I just so happened to have two of Fawkes' feathers…