Whence all but he had fled
On the morning of the day the heir to the black dynasty Regulus Black died, the rain came in torrents, relentless and unyielding. The lake which stretched around the castle swelled beyond its edges, sending hungry, lapping waves against the stone walls of Hogwarts, as if the castle itself was mourning.
But this was the end, cold, quiet, inescapable. But before the ruin, there was the spark. Before the drowning, the first breath.
















