Culling Aftermath Ⅶ

Within the walls of St. Mungo's, there is a floor filled with a dozen patients. The patients mostly reside in their beds, a few sit in a daze incoherent of their surroundings and that which they murmur to themselves. The wizards and witches within these walls are the permanent residents of those cursed for life with no cure in sight. On one of the line beds, there lays a pale, but handsome golden-haired man with silver-streaked hair. It was ironic really, but the man truly did look as though he was a slumbering prince under an evil sleeping spell. Abruptly, a frown appears on the sleeping prince's face. The frown grows deeper as does the furrow on his brow as though the slumbering wizard is caught in a terrible nightmare.

Letting out a loud gasp, Mulciber Sr. awakens to find himself free of pain and his terrible nightmare. Within his dream, he found himself bound and terribly tortured at the hands of jeering faces. At the end of it all, he felt his entire body on fire, but he could not even a muscle not even his lips to scream in agony and rage.

Blinking rapidly Mulciber Sr. begins to slowly orient himself under the warm sunlight that pours through the white hospital linen curtains. Voices can be heard from beyond the white curtains especially that of St. Mungo's mediwitches and mediwizards. A slow smug smile appears in his mind as he begins to recollect some of his memories of the night before. It was most fortunate news that he was at St. Mungo's having outsmarted the Auror's. He would immediately demand that his lawyer be summoned.

Before Mulciber Sr. can speak out his demands, the white linen curtains are loudly pulled back to reveal a blaring ray of sunlight. He glares at the witch in training healer robes that are lime-green robes with an emblem on her chest of a crossed wand and bone. The emblem was rather stark against their lime-green robes, but it served to remind the general populace that they were in fact trained medical healers, and it was best to be properly attended by a fully trained healer.

"Oh, good you are awake," the female trainee said, before reaching for his chart.

Mulciber sniffs as he gazes around to see that the ward was small and rather dingy. The only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious wizard on the wall, captioned URQUHART RACHARROW, 1612-1967, INVENTOR OF THE ENTRAIL-EXPELLING CURSE. (Rather ironic considering, Mulciber had just used that same curse mere hours ago.)

The smile on the female trainee's face disappears as she stammers, "Er, I will just go and summon Healer Prewett or Healer Smethwyck," before hurrying away as if fleeing.

Extremely vexed, Mulciber Sr. opens his mouth to speak to only feel a cold wave of terror overcome him. Mulciber Sr. opens his mouth again to speak only to find that he can't speak. He tries to kick, scream, any movement really to find that he can do nothing but rapidly blink in panic.

Mulciber Sr. feels the urge to vomit, but he cannot even do that much for himself. Breathing deeply in and out, he realizes that the ward has gone abruptly quiet. Panicking, he opens his eyes to hear the set of two footsteps approaching him one heavier than the other. It must be the healers! Surely, they will explain what the matter is!

Mulciber Sr. feels the blood drain from his friends as two figures take a seat to either side of him in the visitor chairs. On his left is a sharp-faced wizard with a widow's peak, Avery Sr. And on the other side is the burly wizard with angry eyes and lips curled into a sneer. "Well, good morning, Mulciber, how are you feeling?" Avery Sr. said with a satisfied grin.

Mulciber's eyes quiver, but he cannot speak nor ask. "Ah, I see that you are confused," Avery Sr. said with false sympathy. "Well, where shall we start? Ah, yes, with the Daily Prophet. Rosier, if you would be so kind as to show, Mulciber, this morning's news?"

Mulciber hurriedly reads the date and sighs slightly in relief to see that it has only been one day. His eyes blink in confusion as he finds that the headlines of the Daily Prophet read as "CAPTURE OF ALL CRIMINALS! DISMANTLEMENT OF THE UNDERWORLD! CREATION OF A.D.P., M.B., AND WIZ LINK ANNOUNCED! THE RISE AND REVOLUTION OF ARTIFACTS! For more information turn to page 2."

"Thank you, Rosier, that should be enough," Avery said as Rosier loudly folded the Daily Prophet in two.

"Did you notice, Mulciber, that your name was not mentioned even once?" Avery emphasized as Mulciber's eyes quivered with something akin to fear and panic. "There, there, we are not here to kill you even if Rosier very much wants to." Rosier Sr. lets out a loud snort in reply and folds his burly arms over his thick chest glaring menacingly at Mulciber.

"Now, I am certain that you are puzzled as to your current condition," Avery calmly explained. "The Healers are a bit busy now and hence why Rosier and I had the opportunity to pay you a visit before Healer Prewett or Healer Smethwyck arrive. I have both good news and bad news which would you like to hear first?"

Mulciber's eyes scream for answers as Avery feigns pensiveness, before giving in as if helpless. "Oh, very well, the good news first. The Minister of Magic was persuaded to hide all pieces of evidence of the massacre that occurred last night at your hands. The minister of magic could not afford for any ill light to be cast over their victory nor proposed progressive projects. Which I must say, I very much am in favor of. Owls although traditional are most inconvenient to use in bad weather. Isn't that right, Rosier?" Rosier lets out a loud grunt in agreement.

"See even Rosier agrees, and he's the most stoic one of us," Avery remarked, before turning back to gaze down at Mulciber as all traces of pleasantry disappearing from his face.

"However, did you think I would not avenge the loss of my daughter-in-law, mother of my grandson, and wife of my son, Marceline," Avery hissed dangerously drawing his face closer to that of Mulciber's.

Mulciber's eyes widen as he sees the real hatred and anger in Avery's gaze. He wanted to defend himself, but he could not. He could not even move a single finger except to blink.

Drawing back, Avery takes a moment to compose himself. After a moment, he icily says, "You ingested a poison out of your own free will unable to bear the horrific crime that had occurred at your hands. Luckily, you were saved by the Auror's and sent to St. Mungos for treatment. Alas, even though healers were able to remove the poison the damage was too great have destroyed the nerves throughout the body. A most tragic occurrence to become trapped in one's own body only to be freed from the physical imprisonment by death."

Mulciber rapidly blinks his eyes in fury as Avery rises to his feet. "Neither Rosier nor I will visit you again, Mulciber, you may rest easy on that account," Avery murmured. "Nor will anyone ever visit that much I am certain neither your very relieved wife nor son. And considering your physical state you are unable to perform your duties as head of the Mulciber family. The goblins were here not long ago before you awoke and confirmed your state. Naturally, I am certain that even as we speak the position has already been transferred to Peregrine. A good lad, and whom I will happily greet as the new Head of the Mulciber family."

Mulciber's eyes narrow and open with rage at the thought of that mere squib becoming head of the family. He had planned to have that useless child impregnate the Greengrass chit and produce magical heirs. Then he would ensure that the two of them had an accident leaving him to raise his magical grandchildren in accordance with his will.

However, Mulciber's rage quickly cooled as he remembered his current circumstance. He was trapped in his own body unable even to move much less communicate! The horror of the future that lay before him slowly began to sink in as his eyes began to fill with dread.

Avery lets a sigh and pats Mulciber's bedside as if to comfort him. It was a mocking gesture in all actuality. Pulling his hand back, Avery carefully wipes his hand clean with a handkerchief as it had been dirtied, before vanishing it away with his wand. "Where was I? Ah yes, Rosier and I were in fact wondering how long until the madness set in? I wager that in three years, but Rosier says within a year. What do you have to say on the subject Mulciber as it pertains directly to you?"

Avery deliberately paused. "Ah, that's right, I forgot, how careless of me, you cannot speak."

Mulciber's eyes fill with fury and something else, fear. True and utter fear at that which lay before him. He screamed, roared, and fell silent in his mind as none failed to hear his cries.

"Farwell, Mulciber," Avery said before turning away with Rosier merely sneering last time and following after the much smaller wizard.

Mulciber tries to shout at them to return, but nothing emerges from his mouth. His eyes begin to fill with panic as he finds he having trouble breathing. To his misfortune, the young female trainee returns with the two healers in tow. "Mr. Mulciber, please breathe!" She said, before pointing her wand at him and forcibly opening his mouth and pouring a calming draught down his throat. She forcibly caused him to swallow as Mulciber forcibly became calm.

With dull eyes, Mulciber heard Healer Prewett and Healer Smethwyck explain his present circumstances. All Mulciber can do is blink, and blink again. No matter how he screamed and roared or flailed not a single sound escaped from his lips. He was trapped. Trapped.

That was the only word that seemed to remain in his mind playing over and over again. And it would until tears poured down his cheeks and there were none to dry them. None.

Time would become something that he longer understood. A torturous existence. A second became an hour, an hour a day, a day a month, a month a year. Until he could tell no more, and became lost in his dreams and nightmares, where he could at least move and live. Until all that would be left in the world of the living was a maddened existence.