CW — The killing curse, mentions of murder, murder, death, dark themes
❝ This is for the times you went through hell
so someone else wouldn’t have to.❞
Sitting at his fathers old desk, Theodore played with a small locket, his finger tips running over the cold chain. An empty glass sat on the desk in front of him, a bottle of liquor beside it. And at the center of the table lied the box to which once held a necklace that- now long gone and in the hands of someone he trusted- the death eaters were after. Other than the blood ward, all others protecting his manor were down now, courtesy of Theodore himself. They had been all night, as the boy sat in his fathers study, and even now long past sunrise. He knew that only time stood between the death eaters and him, that at any moment his father would be taking down the last string in place. A plan, though not finished, put together by the younger Nott. He wanted his father to break in. To reveal himself to his child. The thought alone was graced with a smile on the boy’s face.
Theodore hadn’t been sure of the time, though he was almost certain it was sometime past noon. His eyes were bloodshot and sore but he knew that even if he had wanted to, sleep would not come to him. After hours of sitting, the boy began to worry himself with the thought of his father not coming. As of yet, he knew that no one had messed with the one last ward, and concern grew. At his thoughts, Theodore leaned forward, grabbing the glass bottle full of liquor and pouring himself another drink. Pushing the glass stopper into the bottle and placing it back down, Theodore then picked up his glass. Swaying the cup, he watched the liquid softly stir- something he been doing to take his mind off things. Just as he was moving the cup to his lips, the feeling of the ward being attacked began. A small, almost unnoticeable smirk pulled at his lips. Finally, he thought.
Though it took a few minutes of magic, at last the death eaters had broken the blood ward. It was quiet now. Something unfamiliar with death eaters. Something that should have scared, or even if only warned, the boy at the desk. And perhaps it even did, somewhere deep down. But nothing now could stop what would become of this day. What would become of the Nott family. For quite some time, once the death eaters made way into the home, Theodore listened as they rummaged through the house. Hearing the angry voices looking for the necklace no longer in its original hiding place. After the voices came footsteps, loud now. The second part in which he should have feared. Though, the boy sat calm. A single drop of emotion couldn’t be found on the boys face. He wasn’t scared, not anymore. Not now.
Just as the doorknob twisted, Theodore leaned back into his chair. And in walked his father, not more than a second later followed by a groups of death eaters. Some distantly familiar, some more. His eyes falling from his father and onto the eyes belonging to Wren’s mother, only to drift to Bowie’s father. The parents of others too, stood in front of him. The parents who gave their children a fate similar to his. A life like his own. Taking a sip of his firewhiskey, Theodore was quiet for a minute. Just staring at his father. He had never before defied him. He knew better than to go against the man, knew that it would only lead him down a dead end. Though things were different now. Everything Theodore had come to know had changed after the war. The world was no longer what it had been. And even with the difficulties that came of war, things had been better. For the boy, things were better- and while the war had taken almost everything it could from him, he no longer had to be in his fathers life. It was a saving grace to Theodore, for months. On days in which the world was crumbling around him, it was one of the only things that got him by. He could finally be himself, whoever that was.
“Hello, father.” His voice was calm, more than anyone had expected. Watching his fathers eyes fall to the open box made Theodore smirk. A smirk not lost on the death eaters standing opposite of him. Looking away from them, Theodore sat in thought for a moment. All those around him standing still, waiting for his next move. With his eyes on his glass, Theodore spoke up. “You were sitting here the first time I watched a man die. And I just over there.” He pointed to a couch off to the left of him. “Do you remember, father?” he had been no more than six, when it had happened. The day he watched his father take a life, for reasons still unknown. “That was the first time I found mother’s portrait. I was so scared.” He laughed, humorlessly. “I couldn’t sleep for days. So one night I left my bed, ran to mothers room. I thought, maybe, sleeping in her bed would make things better.” With eyes still averted, Theodore took a moments pause before continuing. “And then I found her. And it was like, for the first time in my life I was coming home.” Shaking his head, he finally looked up to his father once more.
“It’s rather fitting, wouldn’t you say?” He rose an eyebrow, pulling his wand from his lap. With questioning eyes, his father spoke. “Put that wand down, boy. You’ve no clue what you’re doing.” Pulling out his own wand, his eyes going back to the empty box. Standing up, Theodore held his wand high, his head higher. “I know what i’m doing. I will not let you put my friends in any more danger. They have been through enough.” Though the reasoning was true, Theodore knew deep down of another reason, and another- if he looked enough he would find dozens. “Besides, father. Haven’t you always wanted me to follow in your footsteps?” His voice cracked a little, something he hated. “Well, you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted.” The father and son standing opposite of one another held their wands at each other, a twist of fate so deadly. All else quiet, awaiting the Nott’s fate- wanting nothing more than to see a family crumble. Wanting to see want end would win and what end would not, a vision so evil and yet they stood- watching it unravel. Two words would make or break this family. And in the end, it did.
“Avada Kedavra.” The sound of glass shattering was heard just after, Theodore’s hand letting go of the glass it once held.
Theodore’s body felt as if it were burning alive. His soul was ripping at the seams, in every true way. Lurching forward from the pain, the boy almost fell to his knees. Though, with every ounce of strength he had he kept his wand high, now pointing towards the rest. “Leave!” He coughed out, his eyes full of tears not yet shed. “Leave now or share my father’s fate.” He grounded out, his wand moving from one person to another. And so they did. Theodore watching them all, as if he didn’t believe they would do so. Falling back into the chair, the boy sat in wait, his tears now falling freely. Too tired and weak to do anything else. He knew his fate now. He knew there was no running from this anymore, and with every honest part of him- he knew he didn’t want to run, either.
And so, as his friends all partied and celebrated life, Theodore sat with death at his side.
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