The Egg III

Catalipsi is, what you would call, a bonus prize after winning the grand prize. "That man" should have known better than to target a Slytherin, one who was also a Stark at that. It was like he was begging me to destroy him. I didn't have to do much either. He dug his own grave, I simply pushed him into it. A piece of newspaper was blown by the wind and got stuck on my leg. [Chielf Auror faces allegations after confessing in court the horrible truth behind the Miracle Boy!] I'm not quite happy about the nickname they gave me, but simply recalling the events these past two weeks brought a smile to my face.

It was quite simply really. First, I blew up the situation by bribing a newspaper firm until the Auror Office was forced to call the incident a matter of "National Threat Exposure" of Wizarding Society. It wasn't that difficult since SHIELD already had a pretty name plated in gold known by the entire world, and being exposed to them. . . Well, they simply had to blow up the severity of the case.

This was what made everyone start asking questions, "Who was the bastard who did it?" Everyone started to trash talk the 'idiotic moron' who did magic in front of a public camera.

When it was accidentally revealed that a little boy who feared for his life was responsible, they knew they couldn't pin the fault on the "victim". So a little slip to the media that the situation was previously "under control", and the video leak was an insider job from the file storage within the Auror's Office, everyone's heads exploded!

It was easier to imprint thoughts in a public mad with rage, than a calm one who could analyze the situation for what it was. So this step was absolutely necessary, and it was like hitting two birds with one stone.

The guilt of trash talking a poor weak boy had everyone frantically searching to pin the fault on someone else. So when the poor boy struck with fright and recovering from PTSD accidentally made a "slip" to the public that the criminal was "someone of position" and had a personal agenda against him for simply being a wizard and the son of a famous man, the crowd went wild! They were furious that the man wanted to separate a child from his only parent, and even wanted them to leave America altogether. The conclusion everyone came to was that "the criminal thought he could make my family leave by leaking footage of my accidental magic and threatening exposure to the entirety of America and probably even the world." Simply put, everyone labeled him a mad-man.

The thought of Americans being forced to leave their country with the reason being that the father was too famous for his and his family's own good (with his fame being his reputation as a "hero/soldier" who constantly risked his life to save the World countless times), made every proud American mad.

Conspiracy theorists were having the time of their life finding "evidence" that I abundantly laid out, on who the evil man was. Everyone was quick to pin the fault of 'hating on a poor innocent boy' on the man of position abusing his power.

As a finale, when another tiny slip gave everyone a name and a face to the evil man, their hearts were healed. They were finally relieved of the guilt of trash-talking a 7 year old boy as they could finally put all the blame on the evil cunning man who tricked them into doing the dirty work for him. Theorists were proud of themselves for coming to the right conclusion of the man's identity. And finally, the "pressure" and "guilt" finally made John confess his sins. It was a beautiful ending. Oh yeah, and I took Catalipsi during one of my trips to John's home office, to plant evidence of 'hate-crime' against me.

As I said, John dug his own grave. I merely pushed him into it.

As for Fury. . . Who knows what dad did to Fury. Even if they have maintained a peaceful aura between them whenever he drops by to check on the Avengers, I could still see the hesitation in his eyes and his unwillingness to stay in Stark Towers. Sometimes, I catch him wincing whenever Jarvis speaks.

{Such a beautiful creature aren't you my Catalipsi? Yes you are~ Yes you are~!}

I smiled and rubbed the fur bellow Catalipsi's tiny snout. I could finally admire the tiny beauty for all that she is. Her beautiful midnight blue scales which glisten silver every time the light slips past the cracks of the cabinet door and hits them. Her four tiny black claws grasping onto my hand in a secure hold. Her soft shimmering fur running down her spine to the tip of her tail and around her neck like a lion's mane. And her large black eyes, spotted with beautiful colors like a tiny galaxy entrapped in glass.

...

{Catalipsi. No.}

I hear a hesitant hiss of resignation then felt my infatuation with her slowly decrease until it was no longer obsessive.

{Good girl}

I rub the top of her head with my index finger.

*happy appreciative hiss*

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In a prison cell within the Judicial building, John lays on the ground. Broken from his life falling apart. His mind slowly slipping into the darkness, broken from a magic most dark.

A man steps out from the shadows and takes out a pearly white wand which seemed to eerily gleem in the moonlight.

"Good job John."

A bone chilling voice whispers to the man, like the song of death. Thin wispy threads with a white-blue hue pulls out from John's head and into a crystal vial.

The bony fingers of the death-like man plugs the vial close with a cork. He raises his wand once more and mutters a word.

"Impeius."

John's pupils dilate and he stands up. He rips up his bed sheets with his bare hands. With one hand he clenches the strands of cloth, and with the other he takes his bath bucket and flips it upside down. John stands on the bucket and ties the strips of cloth on the pipes running above the ceiling in a hoop, the size of a head.

The man who lurks in the shadows grinned and left without a sound. The next day, the name of a man with a tarnished name appeared on the obituary. His friends and family were distraught, but there was nothing they could do for the public was against them.

They knew he would never have done it; they knew he was innocent, but a dead man could not speak. [2]

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[2] I'm so sorry. I did not mean for it to get this dark. I do not know what came over me. I am so sorry guys.