Deshaerok
Author: Silent Invictus
Rating: M
Warnings: Suicide, mentions of rape, self mutilation, blasphemy, BL (Yaoi)
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the work of J.K. Rowling. I do not make any money from the writing of this fiction. If you recognize it, chances are that I don't own it!
Chapter 1
My name was William. Everyone who claimed to be my friend called me by that name. I always wanted to be called Will, but I never got the chance to tell anyone. It was my fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when everything fell apart, and I couldn’t keep the pieces of a detailed mask in place any longer.
People saw me as a cool, collected person. I was good looking, had many ‘friends’; the ideal student and the model for the perfect life. To the outside world my life was perfect. They looked at me and saw a happy blond with twinkling lavender eyes. When I looked at myself, I saw a torn person who bore the marks of a hating family who persecuted me for who I was.
I was born into a strict Catholic family. An overbearing father and a stiff mother who seemed to care more for religion than her own family. We weren’t off poorly… there was money. I grew up in a large house that, to me, always felt more like a tomb. There was no laughter in my home; no running through the hallways, there wasn’t even a TV. You did your homework, kept up your grades, came down for dinner, and then went back to your room to pray until bed. I thought this was normal, until I received my letter.
I remember how my father had laughed outright when I had shown him the letter from Hogwarts. It wasn’t a kind laugh, it was a cold one. His laugh. I’ll never forget it. He refused to believe that I was being accepted into a ‘Devil’s school’ as he called it. It came to a point that one of the professors had to come collect me to get my things. I didn’t go back there for the rest of the summer; I stayed in London. I even managed to set up my own account at Gringotts Bank using some of the money my parents had given me.
I wanted to believe that everything around me was true. I really did. So when I was sitting by myself on the train for the first time, with my backpack and wand, I realized that life could be very different than what I was taught.
That night, I was placed into the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory. It was so strange to be surrounded my so many smiling faces and there was so much noise. I had never experienced anything quite like it before. That year was one of the happiest of my life. I ended up staying there for Christmas, but I didn’t really care. Everything that my mother and father had drilled into me about the evils of magic was wrong. I loved my abilities and worked hard on honing them as best I could at that level. I was in Heaven.
Which meant that I was cast into Hell when I returned home. I don’t recall much of that summer; I think I was unconscious for most of it. I remember waking up during some kind of purification ceremony, covered in dried blood and bruises. I was branded with the cross that night. I was handcuffed to my bed, too weak to do anything. The only times I was allowed to leave my room was to go to the bathroom.
The day of my escape was a Sunday, and I was actually feeling a bit better, even though I had been beaten the night before, and I was to go to church with everyone else. By some miracle I managed to get separated from them and made it home and onto a bus heading towards London.
I once again spent the rest of my summer out of my parent’s reach. The brand on my left hip was still tender, but the marks on the rest of my body would fade away before school started again.
It seemed as if that summer repeated itself over and over, the only difference was that I was never branded again, but the beatings turned into whippings and the method of escape changed. The summer before my seventh year was the worst. My father raped me that summer and the memory is haunting to this very day. I had grown stronger over the years of playing quidditch and tried to fight back, but he still overpowered me as he had done so many times before.
The beginning of seventh year began like any other year, phony friends flocking towards me to form a bunch that I couldn’t get away from. I never wanted to be there. Then I saw him: a boy- beautiful in my eyes- and I felt my heart drown towards him only to see him vanish into the crowds of people migrating to the tower. I didn’t realize why I had never seen him before then.
His name was Shawn and I would figure out that he was a year below me and such a quiet type that he was hidden in the shadow of his peers. I had wanted nothing more than to pull him into the light at watch him glow but would never get to have the chance. I felt sick with myself to realize that I was in love with another boy. Was I committing yet another crime that my parents would use as fodder to their reasons to punish me? In the end, I would never know if they would have killed me or just disowned me before I told them.
I watched him carefully throughout the first half of the year, taking care to always smile at him whenever he met my eyes. I memorized every part of him: his schedule, the path he took from class to class; I burnt his face and every detail into my mind. I did all of this and had no idea why I felt the need to be with him.
That is when I first met Sinar through a mirror in the Room of Requirement. I had gone there to escape from everything and drink myself into a stupor. It was Friday: I had the time to waste. He explained that he was a demon and that it wasn’t all that hard to become one. He was currently looking for a host to lace his son into. The process worked as such: The chosen host would die and their body would undergo a ritual in which the demon would be bound to the host. To the world the host would be dead, but in fact he or she would continue to live under the demon’s name. He felt that I would make the perfect host and that if I was ever interested, I was to let him know.
I considered agreeing with him then and there, but I wanted to consider what would happen if I were to say yes. Shawn was the only thing really tying me to this earth, and he didn’t even know that I knew him.
I did lots of research on demons in my spare time and learned surprisingly little. I knew that there were four kinds of demons: Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. The demon and the chosen host would find out, which one they were to become during the ceremony. There was absolutely no documentation of the ceremony what so ever.
A very informative book entitled: Demons: The Incomplete Truth read:
According to interviews and various examinations, all demons have the “innate” ability to heal wounds of both their own and of others, making them the ideal healer. In the case of healing others, the unique study revealed that instead of relying on their own magical core, the demon utilizes the surrounding magic from the magical flow around us. How they manage to tap into the flow is still among the many mysteries that sur… the rest of the book had been damaged to the point of being unreadable. That was fine of course because I had already begun to fall asleep just by reading that single paragraph.
One night during Christmas break, I finally worked up the courage to say something to him and he only shrunk further into his shell. I hadn’t been feeling well that day and memories of the rape were in the front of my mind. I had just wanted someone to talk with, to be myself with and the only person I had ever wanted to open up to turned me away. I had just smiled sadly then and slowly climbed the stairs to my dorm.
I sat down at my desk and wrote two letters: one to him- telling him that I had only wanted to talk with him and that I didn’t do anything because of him. I didn’t want him to feel guilty for the thing I was about to do. I wrote the other one to Dumbledore explaining my actions. I told him about my life at home and how I didn’t have the will to keep up the lie any longer. I also told him about Sinar’s offer and that I wanted it preformed upon me. I had told Sinar what I was considering earlier that night and told him that if my name appeared on the list of the dead, he would know to come collect my body.
I lied down on the bed and slit my wrists that night, taking up Sinar’s offer. I felt as though, when the blood came gushing out of the wounds, that my old life was flowing away and that I could begin anew. My body would be found by the house elves the next morning, the letters would be delivered, and I would be placed in Dumbledore’s office awaiting Sinar. I would never get to see Shawn’s face as he read the letter but I have the feeling it would have made even the coldest man’s heart bleed.
I thought it was the end for me… but I was wrong. In a way, my life truly began… With my death.
