That Which Makes Us Breaks Us

A/N This chapter has some graphic mutilation so for those who are not into that here is some pointers on the potion which Tom has made and is going to drink. Note I made this potion up it’s sort of like a cross between an animangius and polyjuice potion.

1. This potion allows the recipient to change into one chosen person at will, and remain that way for as long as the recipient wishes.

2. It is obviously a very illegal and highly dark potion which only few can make.

3. The recipient must experience excruciating physical pain while morphing as the whole body must change.

People who do not wish to read this chapter may skip it. R&R please!

Disclaimer: Not mine

Warnings: Graphic mutilation

Peering into the cauldron I grin. It was ready. A fog hung above the calm, light purple potion. So unlike the pain I knew was about to be unleashed upon me. I reached towards the silver chalice placed close by; filling it up with the concoction I brought it towards my cold lips. How long, had my beauty touched these very lips? Warming them with her sweetness.

She is always on my mind. I am a beggar and she is the only alms I seek. Gulping down the sweet acid, I cry out as I feel my bones crunch loudly. The noise echoing throughout the hollow room, falling to the floor, I lay spread eagled.

I am quiet now, letting the potion do it’s work, feeling it break and tear away at my limp body. I am strong, pain eludes me. I chastise myself for my unpardonable display of weakness earlier. Suddenly I feel like I have been dealt a sound punch to my ribs as they make ak crk crack. I bite down on my tongue and close my eyes. I imagine my angel as my fibula snaps. The soft swell of her breasts, a sharp intake of breath as my collar bone shatters. The pieces of bone embed themselves into my throat, making it bleed.

The blood which now pours out of my mouth and nose reminds me of a darker version of my angel’s hair, how I love her hair. My vision blurs into a haze of red as the blood cascades out of my eyes as well. Crimson tears I think snicanically.

I’m writhing now. My eyes glazed over with a misty red, I inhale deeply the rotting corpse of Clara Andrews. I feel no remorse. Remorse is for the weak, and I am not weak. I feel the lower part of my vertebrae break, cutting into my spinal cord. I can’t move. The pain slices through my body.

Angel. My angel. I think through gritted teeth. This is all for you. I await the coming attack on my pelvic bone. Her ginger hair flies before my eyes, her honey eyes twinkling with mischief, as she piles a snowball in her palm to strike at one of her unsuspecting brothers.

My eyes are now clearing; I look at my body, still not being able to move. Calmly seeing my blood, now opal black eating away at my skin, revealing the pink sinews beneath, now like jelly.

I close my eyes once more and remember her. That night when she came to me, swathed in white. She was cold and shivering. Her liquid eyes wide, her hands bone white. Her thread bare cloak hiding her fiery mane. She came to my chamber. The chamber of secrets. I heard her light but quick footsteps, her deep brs.
s.

I emerged from the dark to welcome her, but as soon as she saw me her pace stopped, trembling badly.

I wince slightly as I feel my blood now assail my bicep.

She stuttered apologies, about her tardiness and how scared and confused she was. I listened patiently but not with a whole heart. I wanted Potter, the little shit who ruined my life. I admit my appreciation for her then wasn’t as enormous as it is now. I was a little harsh on my angel, and now I repent.

I open my eyes in time to hear something moving. Panicking in my vulnerable state I listen closely. A smooth, gliding movement, heavy in weight but graceful in nature. Nagini. She slithers up and flicks out her tongue at my slowly fading cheek. I give her a reassuring stare, satisfied she glides off into the depths of my fiendish lair. I sigh and close my eyes for the last time, “Ginevra…” I whisper, as my world goes black.

R&R please!