<div style="text-align: center">​</div>Once inside Albiorix's mind . . . and yes, he knew the man's identity immediately, the shock nearly drove him out before he'd seen anything else. The Death Eater fought back, but even tipsy as he was, Hawke was still stronger from years of experience. He found himself dumped into the first memory, surrounded by the pathetic pleas of a begging child, and he clung to it with everything he had. With such resistance, he knew this wasn't something the other wanted him to see.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3">"Papa!! Don't hurt him! Please put Papa down!"</span>Hawke's heart ached for the boy . . . until he realized this was Albiorix. A future murderer. However, the father figure swinging from the rafters brought bile to his throat. The laughter of the muggles around them was overbearing, Hawke's anger lashing out at the figures he didn't recognize as smoke billowed around them, terrible screams pervading his senses . . . but his surge of emotion was enough to allow Albiorix to gain the upper hand briefly.<br/><br/>Clinging to another memory, anything he could find, Hawke was suddenly standing back in Hogwarts, watching two young friends marvel over a Hippogryph. It was hard for him not to spare the boys a slight grin, but this memory was unimportant and Albiorix seemed determined to move them along . . . so Hawke allowed it. The next scene he latched onto was quite different. The same two boys, but neither wore a smile upon their faces, Albi's . . . Albiorix's wand pointed at his friend. And Hawke could feel their closeness in the other's mind, even as they now stood in opposition to one another. He could also feel Albiorix's uncertainty as the woman whispered poison in his ear, but Hawke knew what choice he'd made even before his lips muttered the killing curse . . . only for his wand to backfire in a rage of sparks. Hawke wanted to linger here, needed to see the outcome . . .<br/><br/>But it seemed Albiorix had gained the upper hand, squashing the Auror's intrigue as the scene dispersed. Hawke didn't mind, as clearly the man had a point to make. Who was he not to listen? And besides, combined with the rum and the emotions roiling through him, mixing with the memories of Albiorix, Hawke's resolve was wavering fast. They were in the Ministry, and suddenly Hawke understood completely that he'd been wrong in his accusations. Albiorix was a killer, but not of the innocent lives lost during the attack. He still had his work cut out for him on that case, then . . .<br/><br/>And then Albiorix had carried him to the very same crime scene he'd entered hours before, except this time Frederick's body was on the ceiling rather than the floor. It was strange, seeing this from Albi's point of view, bearing witness to the last moments of Frederick's life.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3"><i>Do you think that he wanted to be strung up like a doll too? </i></span><i>- </i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00"><i>You are a monster.</i></span><i> - <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3">I am only what you created, I am what she created. And in your final moments, I want you to think about their screams. I want you to know that you were not the victim."</span> </i></i>Hawke braced himself for what he knew would come next. And while he'd murdered dozens through the eyes of others . . . it never got any easier.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3">"</span><i><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3">AVADA KADAVRA."</span> </i></i>Though, this time, he perhaps felt a slight sense of satisfaction as the house filled with green. No, those had to be Albiorix's emotions, not his own. But the world faded, Frederick's face losing a few decades . . . and it was then that Hawke understood what Albiorix was trying to tell him. Why he did the things he'd done, which had been the purpose of this venture from the very beginning. Though . . . the answers he'd gotten weren't the ones he'd expected.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#5900b3">"Let's see how well YOU like someone playing around in your own memories!"</span>Hawke's heart dropped into his stomach as he summoned what little willpower he had left, but to no avail as suddenly his own mind was violated by a foreign presence. It had been years since anyone had made it past his defenses, but he hadn't forgotten what it felt like to have someone rifling through your history like a newspaper. He fought back, but his strength wasn't in it . . . especially as his childhood home swam into view.<br/><br/><br/><div class="bbMediaWrapper">
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</div>[/CENTER]<br/>Suddenly he was a kid again, he and Theo sitting worriedly in front of a bay window as their parents' raised voices echoed from the kitchen. Theo had just used magic for the first time, levitating the pasta across the dinner table.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"BOTH of my sons! You promised me that there was a chance they'd be like me . . . but now they're both abominations like you!"</span>Hawke's fists clenched as he listened to their father berate Mom so. Magic was a gift and he was overjoyed to have it. Why couldn't Dad see that?<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"I'll beat it out of him if I have to, Thea. It's too late for Hyperion, but not for Theodore."</span>The familiar clinking of a belt buckle unsnapping was loud and clear to both boys, Hawk's blood boiling as he made to stand, but Theo's hand on his wrist stopped him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I'm not gonna let him hit you,"</span>he argued, but Theo was ripped from his side as a large man jerked him away, their mother pleading with him as he did so.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff"> "Harold, don't you dare! Please, don't make me hurt you!"</span>Mom's wand was out, but Hawke knew she wouldn't use it.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Stop! Stop it, Dad!"</span>Hawke was mad now, knuckles white as his own magic began to ripple, unnoticed in the chaos. His father's arm brought down the belt to strike the magic out of Theo, but the blow never met its target.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I SAID STOP!!" </span>With a blast of untrained magic, the window shattered behind Hawke, glass shards zipping through the air and tattering his father's face and clothes to ribbons as he was sent careening backwards. Hawke's own back and arms were littered with bloodied cuts . . . but Theo and his mother remained untouched. Even inebriated as he was, Hawke was horrified that Albiorix had seen something like this. Summoning all the willpower he had left, he forced them elsewhere, not caring what hell they landed in next. It couldn't get worse . . .<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b300">" . . . the boy needs to learn self-control!"</span>The voice of his charms professor argued with the headmaster.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#00b300">"Outbursts like this aren't safe for the other students." </span>Outbursts. Hawke remembered this day, alright.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Well maybe if the Slytherins would leave my brother alone . . . "</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a64dff">"Hyperion, your Professor is right. I can't have you harming other students. This is . . . not a course I recommend second years, ever, but I believe Occlumency will aid you a great deal in managing your magic . . . "</span>This memory was safe, Hawke didn't mind it. Though it seemed Albiorix wanted to move on as the scene faded.<br/><br/>Fifteen, perhaps, hair long and tied back over his shoulders. Once again he was in the room with the bay window, granted it had been repaired. Used to being a part of the wizarding world by now, Hawke thought nothing of using his wand to turn the pages of his textbook. At least, not until the figure of his father leered into the doorway.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"What do you think you're doing?" </span>Puberty hadn't helped Hawke's attitude at all as he replied, a disrespectful lilt to his tone.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Uhhh, my homework?"</span>Harold crossed the room in three steps, snatching the book from his son's lap and hurling it across the room.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"I said no wands under my roof!"</span>Hyperion, though a good deal shorter than his father stood and glared right back at him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Why do you hate magic so much? Is it because you're jealous?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Break it."</span>Hawke faltered as the larger man jabbed a finger in his face.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"W-what?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Break the wand, or so help me . . . I'll break you, Boy!"</span>There was no way. Hawke would rather die than snap his wand in two. He raised his wand against his father, having no love for this man any more . . . but if he uttered so much as a single spell he'd be in trouble with the Ministry. Lowering the polished Aspen, Hyperion stored it away safely in his pocket.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Do what you want, Monster!"</span>He spat in his father's face, adding fuel to the fire. Harold's belt was off in seconds, Hawke refusing to cry out even as the leather struck his flesh, using his new skills in Occlumency to build walls around the physical pain. Hawke practically dragged Albiorix away this time.<i>Anything</i>. Anything at all was better than this humiliation.<br/><br/>Darkness. On his knees, wrists bound. Hawke was wearing Auror's robes now, a few years younger, his hair very much the same as it was today as the shiny initiates' badge gleamed from his chest. Trees all around, the stars barely blinking through the thick canopy above as a gold-mask swam into view. Four others stood behind him, a circle of death . . . his mentor's body lying motionless a few feet away. Hawke hadn't stood a chance. A wand caressed his face, his breathes rapidly solidifying before his eyes as fear filled him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"Where's the woman?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Kill me."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"Crucio."</span>Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before, but not a sound left him. Hawke knew this game, though his palms bled.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"The Auror woman who killed my daughter. I need a name."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Kill me."</span>Said with little emotion. Hawke knew he wouldn't be getting out of this alive.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"Crucio."</span>It lasted much longer this time, taxing Hawke to the edge of his fortitude.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"There's more where that came from. Tell me who she is, or I swear</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">I'll break you, Boy."</span>Hawke heard Harold's voice that time. Not the Death Eater.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Kill. Me."</span>He spat upon the gold mask, knowing the next round of agony might very well break him.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"CRUCIO!"</span>The curse slammed into him, seemingly stronger than before and Hawke didn't know how long it lasted, seemingly hours. He did scream this time . . . all walls shattered as his voice went raw. Then suddenly the pain stopped.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ccff">"Reducto!"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"><i>Mom. Nonononononononooooo.</i></span>The words wouldn't leave him as Gold Mask was blasted into the nearest tree. Another charm and his mother had rendered Hawke invisible, a third and he'd been completely paralyzed as Death Eaters moved around him to attack. Hawke fought against this memory too, urging Albiorix to move on. Because he knew what came next, something he'd hidden behind walls in his head for three years now. His mother's screams chased the into the next memory.<br/><br/>Hawke was mentally exhausted as the world around him re-materialized. The bay window yet again. Harold stood before him, holding Thea's obituary in hand.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"This is . . . "</span>Harold dropped the paper to the floor, his mother's smiling blonde features waving up at them.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"This is your fault."</span>HAwke rolled his eyes.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You've got to be kidding me . . . "</span>His voice was still hoarse from the torture curse. Although Hawke knew it really was his fault.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"If you and Theo had never dragged her back into that world, she'd still be alive!"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You think I don't know that!?" </span>Hawke's wand was out in a second, directed at his father.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I don't need one more damned reminder, especially not from you!"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Get that thing out of my face or so help me . . . "</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Or what? You'll <i>break</i> me!?" </span>Hawke advanced, closing the distance as Harold was backed into the wall.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I should never have told you . . . "</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffff00">"Get that thing out of my face, abomination!" </span>Emotions still running ragged from the loss of his mother, Hawke was indeed quite unhinged in this moment.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "AVADA-"</span>He caught himself, horrified.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"OBLIVIATE!"</span>With a flash of light, his father forgot that his entire family had ever existed. Hawke levitated him onto the lawn. Turned towards the house one last time.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Incendio."</span>The house went up in flames. CRACK. Hawke had nowhere else to go but the Ministry . . .<br/><br/>Hawke was also growing weary of this trip down memory lane. At this point, Albiorix had laid bare almost everything that Hawke fought to keep ferreted away on the inside. With one last push, the Auror doubled his efforts and hurled Albiorix from his mind. As he resurfaced, panting and dazed, sweat dripping from his brow as he lay heavily on his chair, Hawke recalled his wand at his side, still trained on the Death Eater.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Stupefy!"</span>He didn't wait around to see if his spell hit home or not. Hawke didn't care. CRACK.