His hands were balled into fists inside his sleeves as he looked up at
Lucian. He had come to truly hate him, and every moment he spent in his
presence stung at him, his stink invading his nostrils like so many
sharpened spears. The dim light of the fading afternoon spilled into the
corridor, swimming around the two wizards slowly, the laziness of the
day's waning hours obvious and drunkening.

"I don't even know if I'll be able to trust myself with her..." The shorter
boy said, his hair falling in untidy rolls before his eyes. "... I need
someone to keep her safe while I deal with them."

Lucian crossed his arms over his chest.

Priggo actually smiled, looking back down the empty hallway. "... I've been
starving Rose. She'll be hungry for meat."

Lucian nodded, he agreed to help. Priggo couldn't stand being around him
for much longer. He half-wished he had left them all to die in those lonely
mountains. His blood was pumping hard in his arms, a buzzing in his ears.

"... why me?" Priggo seemed so very small compared to Lucian, and the
wizard hated him for it. Priggo blinked up at Lucian's question, rubbing his
chin in silence for a moment.

"You're the only one at this school that's as messed up as I am."

The answer was more true than he cared for. He hated the disgusting
comparison. Lucian seemed to accept its simplicity. Priggo didn't want
Lucian passing out during their mission, not many people would be able to
handle the things Priggo was planning on doing.

If she was shaking, he'd make them cower in impossible chills.

If she was weeping, he'd make them cry tears of blood.

If she had trouble moving her arms, her legs, her hands or her feet...
He'd lighten them of their troublesome limbs.

Priggo's mind cleared as he thought of his vengeance. For a moment, he
forgot how much he hated Lucian, and closed his eyes, his hands relaxing.

If they had touched her, if they had touched her in that most disgusting
way... they'd be begging for death. They'd watch Rose devour their
insides, and then they'd know pain.

Priggo nodded to Lucian, before pushing his way around him, slowly
walking down the hallway back toward the Entrance Hall. "Let's hope she
isn't hurt, for their sakes."

_________________

He had nearly killed Twilight when it returned without a reply for what
seemed like the hundreth time. Damned owl.

Priggo had been staring at himself in the mirror for an hour or so, his eyes
blazing, his hands tightened into fists. His rage was nearly tangible, and it
was consuming. He was enslaved by it... he could barely remember why
he raged, all he knew was the rage itself. It clawed at his insides, and its
burning sting provided a strange, perverted comfort.

Is she dead? Is she being held? Does she not want to be found?

Just thinking on it drove him further, stroking his passionate
determination, his overwhelming urge to pacify his rage with blood. Rose
had long since taken cover beneath his bed, avoiding his shaking hand.

He had stopped thinking about what they could have possibly done to
deserve his wrath - that was unimportant now. All that mattered was the
outlet Priggo desperately needed. He shook at the prospect of what would
happen if he found nobody to vent his fury on.

He'd likely tear apart the first unfortunate soul he happened upon.

Destroying his bedside dresser in a sweeping arc of flame, he calmly
slid a hand down his chest, padding out the wrinkles in his robes. His face,
his countenance of control was but a mask, disguising the nearly
uncontrollable anger welling up inside.

With a steady hand, he opened the door and made his way downstairs.
Nobody suspected anything. He'd been giving out more gold than usual,
they'd think he was as happy as could be.

Good.

He wouldn't want any interruptions.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If
you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

_________________

((I went ahead and copied everything from the other forums to these
forums. I'll continue the posts after Priggo gets back to school.))

[Thank you, Priggo. We will be consolidating the forums again. I'm hoping others will move their excellent contributions back over to these forums before we shut the Forumer ones down. -JBMT]

_________________

The old halls were a bit more quiet than before, it seemed. His hands were
sweaty with anticipation, his hair sleek with the vibrance of a newly
charged youth. Rose, as muscular and powerful as ever, slowly pawed
behind him as he stalked down the lonely corridors of Hogwarts.

All around him, the faded reminders of his old life blinked in and out of
focus. He had changed, and so had his perception of the world around
him. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing as he made his way down into the
dungeons. He'd have to reintroduce himself to many forgotten friends, if
they could be called that.

Fire danced in his eyes as he struggled to pull himself to his feet. Rose lay
dead somewhere in the rubble to his left. A tree burned behind him,
churning smoke into the pale sky.

The dragon's heavily scarred claw landed with a *crunch* in the gravel,
the ground heaving beneath its massive weight. It hissed, tasting the air
with its forked tongue. Both of its beady eyes burned out, it had to rely
on its other senses to seek its prey.

Priggo grunted in pain, struggling back through the pile of debris. His
umbrella was buried beneath nearly a ton of scorched earth, he wouldn't
be able to dig it out in time. Drawing the hooked Death-Eater's blade from
his boot, he roared and dove forward at the scaled monster, his protective
bubble of energy fizzing as it struck the quaking giant.

Ah, it was good to be back.

_________________

Priggo leaned over, scooping up the snake in his hands.

"Hello there, girl." He smiled, eyeing the curling reptile as it wrapped itself
around Priggo's hand, trying in vain to constrict. "You sure are... frisky."

The snake paused, looking up at the wizard. As he concentrated on the
animal, magical energy pulsed through it. The snake's eyes flashed with
intellect as it ceased its attack.

"Good girl. I think I'll call you... Madeline."

_________________

As Angelique defeated him, 2 wins to 1, Priggo's insides twisted in shock and rage.
He had never been like this before. He had never been so bent
out of shape. He had never wanted to brutally murder as much as he
wanted to now. In his mind flashed visions of everything he had
accomplished, the men he had killed, the lives he had ruined.

Spoiled by some French whore who, in his opinion, didn't even belong at
Hogwarts. Madeline hissed softly into his ear, calming him. Rose padded
the room, pacing.

Regriam, his newest protege, was the least of his worries. He had blood
on his mind, and would not be satisfied until he had slaked his thirst on
her crimson fluid.

He stalked the darkened crypts of Egypt in feline form, his ears twitching
at the slightest sound. His claws sharpened, his fangs at the ready. The
shadow could hide no secret this night, and vengeance would be his.

He already planned to speak with Snape. Hopefully, his old Potions
teacher could shed some light on his situation. Hopefully, he would be
offered a solution. He cursed his own ineptitude as he raged against the
wild creatures of the middle-eastern desert. He had the tools, he had the
drive, all that was left was her secret. Once he had uncovered her
method, no professor of Hogwarts, no God in the Heavens could stop him.

His blood curdled as he wept tears of acid. Priggo Seville, Heir to the
Seville Estate, Leader of the Panthers, Slytherin Quidditch Captain and
Prefect of Hogwarts... was incapable of failure.

_________________

Priggo laughed hysterically at Angelique as he disappeared down the hall,
tossing the small vial up and down in his gloved hand. Not even his rage
for her could get him down.

Bounding up the ladder to the dorm rooms, he quickly shot himself into his
room, locking the door behind him. Madeline and Rose both sat in one
corner, curiously eyeing him.

Priggo opened the vial, as a strange, bubbling gas slowly filled the room.
Priggo danced in it, drunkened by its intoxicating power. He smiled to his
animal companions as he slowly fell to his knees. He closed his eyes and
inhaled, reliving the best moments of his life.

He could only imagine how much sweeter Angelique's memories would be.

_________________

Priggo turned quickly, facing the mirror. His umbrella slipped from his
sleeve, immediately opening as magic shot across the room, stopping
just short of the wall.

Frowning, the little wizard shook his head in anger.

"Not fast enough... again."

Repeating his prior movement, he continually practiced the speed at which
he could arm himself. He'd be ready when the time came.

_________________

His practice finally complete, he stares at his sweat-soaked form in the
mirror. Running a hand along the self-inflicted scar on his chest, he closes
his eyes, inhaling deep the odor of nearly two days of isolated training.

He buckles the black leather across his chest, pulls his gloves on, laces up
his boots. He slips his knives into the notches on his belt, fully encircling
his waist with sharpened steel.

His broom is strung to his back, his umbrella lost somewhere up his
magically compartmentalized sleeve. Checking the time on his
pocketwatch for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, he
opens and closes his hands in an eager anticipation.

He's restless, anxious.

Everything of his is neatly packed away, his spare clothing folded on his
bed. He doesn't know if he'll ever see his old room again. He doesn't care.

Descending the ladder he's climbed so many times, he quietly exits the
Slytherin Common Room.

_________________

"... Death Eaters aren't people."

Priggo nodded in agreement, momentarily glancing to the sky. He and
Willow had been talking for a while now, in the Panther's Enclave. The Sun
was rising slowly over the rooftops of nearby buildings.

"Some people have to die... so that the greater good of the majority can
be protected."

"... I'm not that great of a duelist. But... I could help with research."

Priggo listened carefully to the Hufflepuff's words, slowly walking to the
center of the Dueling Area.

"It doesn't matter to me whether you are capable of killing. It matters
to me, that you're willing to."

The short Slytherin wizard raked the Death Eater's blade across the palm
of his hand, as blood dripped down through the beads of the new amulet,
staining its otherwise flawless form.

He handed the blade to Willow, letting him injure himself in the same
manner, before handing him the amulet. Willow's blood flowed down the
necklace, his blood intermingling with Priggo's.

"You are dubbed, Willow, Panther."

_________________

He looked at himself in the mirror, eyeing his reflection warily. With the
wave of his wand, his sleeves were trimmed back, allowing a good view of
his perfectly tailored gloves. Everything he wore was made from a fine
blue silk, which poured off of him with a remarkable fluidity.

Raising an eyebrow, he gave a careful gesture to a missplaced stitch on
the vest he wore beneath his robes.

Suddenly his eyes narrowed as he slammed his umbrella down, recklessly
sweeping everything off of his bedside table, growling in anger as his
makeshift potions lab crashed to the floor, the bubbling concoctions
hissing as they burned through the wood floor.

"... damn it." He slumped to the floor, closing his eyes. He had changed.
Since when did he care about dances? Dates? How he looked? Since when
did Priggo need any friends?

He buried his face in his hands, his long hair falling out of place as he
leaned forward slightly.

"... I hate this school." He lied to himself, rubbing the moisture from his
eyes with the back of his hand. He ripped his hood off, and quickly
unlaced his expensive boots, tossing them aside in another fit of rage.

He'd been giving advice to some first years, helping out a few newbie kids
in the forest... since when did he give a damn? At least when everything
was about killing Death Eaters, he saw himself with a dangerous, very
cool edge. Now he was some chump.

"F--k you Gabrella!" He wandlessly caught fire to the dresser, his vision
blurring as his eyes watered, the wood crackling and squealing as the legs
snapped within the flame. "F--k you, Snape! F--k all of you!" He hit the
floor with his fist, sliding onto his back as the fire quietly died behind him.

"... f--k all of you..."

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how much he hated everyone.
But most of all,

... he thought about how much he hated himself, what he had become.

"... f--k all of you..."

_________________

"No mercy, no respite... only Justice."

"Pain and fear are but tools. Pain is a powerful weapon, yet the fear of
pain is stronger still."

"Through death there is forgiveness."

"We are but wolves among sheep, let ignorance guide the flock."

_________________

He'd been spending most of his time in animagus form, lately. The school
seemed much more accepting when nobody knew that this playful animal
was actually the most despised person within its halls.

He'd tossed in his Prefect Badge, nobody listened to him anyway.
He'd tossed in his Quidditch Captain Badge, he had never liked the game.

But his thoughts kept drifting back to the encounter he had with Angelique.
That little puppet of Snape's had gone too far. She had always been such
a pain, a constant source of grief in his life, and now she approached him.

"... how dare she patronize me."

She wanted him to play? Yeah, right.

"I want to win."
"I'm sure you do."

He didn't dare look at her.

She suggested that he ended his games?

"You're right, why these games? Perhaps if I dress up like a munchkin
from the Wizard of Oz, I'll be able to play better!" A reference to a joke
she had so fondly made not so long ago.

Sweeping his umbrella up behind him, he slipped past them, pulling his
cloak of invisibility around him as he vanished from sight.

God damn it. He had always known Snape preferred those more willing to
bend to his will, the likes of Joki, Angelique, Trin. But now he rubs it in
Priggo's face, sending them to mock him like some fool?

And Trin, Angelique's "friend," he could just imagine her laughing along
with that French w---e after he had left... not even the ones he had fought
along-side of showed him any compassion.

He sat in his room for the longest time, wallowing in self-pity.

"... I want to go home..."

_________________

He loosened his collar, letting his hood fall back. Undoing the buttons of
his outer robes, he let them fall open, revealing the maze-like patchwork
of vests and undershirts that he wore beneath.

He let his umbrella fold itself up, gingerly laying it beside him on the
couch. Crossing his legs, he nodded as she talked. Throughout all of this,
he didn't dare glance at her.

At least she had finally done away with that hat. As she questioned him,
he could only shrug his shoulders, slowly tugging off his gloves, and
folding them over his knee.

"The time in which I could offer you advice, has long since passed,
Regriam." The long, curly sideburns that he had sported for so long were
now little more than a furry reminder of his new life, hanging, unwashed
at the sides of his face, nearly down to his chin.

"... but, I would like to share with you, a short story, if you'd like to hear
it." He spoke slowly, each word forced and painful.

"I want to hear anything you'll say."

He couldn't help but offer the most hardly noticeable of smiles. "I once
knew a little boy, who, now that I think about it, reminds me of you."

He paused, glancing over at her.

"He was a fourth year, at the time I knew him. And throughout his short
life, he had been after the thing that most adults struggle for, and never
achieve; control."

He let her babble on for a few moments before continuing, as if he had
never been interrupted.

"But there was another being, who may as well have been inside my
young friend. Of this, 'Demon,' very few people knew. Lucian, Evie and I
knew, of course. And despite the failings of his short life, he foolishly
thought he could control this... this 'Demon.' "

Pausing again, he took a deep breath before continuing.

"That little boy was me, Regriam." Priggo folded his hands on his lap. "And
he's dead now. After you've thought about it, I think you'll understand why
I'm telling you this... Regriam, I look at you, and I'm afraid."

They continued on, for a short while, before Priggo decided, for the sake
of decency, to leave.

"Stay with Joki, at least she'll keep you safe."

"I know Joki doesn't like you... but when you're not being mean, I think
you're nice..."

"I'm not a nice person, Regriam. And neither are you... but that's alright,
you still have time to change." Priggo opened his umbrella, heading out
the door. "I haven't given up on you."

_________________

Priggo laughed coldly.

Paris, she was in Paris.

He sat at the foot of his bed, sharpening knives, preparing scrolls,
polishing his umbrella and securing all the tools of his trade safely to his
body. Hooks on wires, axe-heads on chains, lighters, bottles of flamable
oil, metal studs in the knuckles of his gloves and a white porcelain mask
to top things off.

He had enough ingredients to make two full bottles of the heightening
potion he and Snape had come up with. He'd save one for the ball, in case
he did decide to make an appearance (despite his 'date' having found
someone more suitable...), and one for his trip to France.

He'd leave no sign of his passing. If he had to burn the building down, and
kill everyone inside, he'd get what he wanted.

Of course, maybe he'd get lucky, maybe he'd be able to play it safe,
maybe nobody would have to get seriously injured.

But then, where's the fun in that?

_________________