Hawke raised a skeptical eyebrow as Albi's hand  slammed  down on the chest beside him.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Not good. Not good at all.</span></i>He'd seen wizards cave to the influence of magical items before. In fact the subject was one of high importance in the academy. Identification and destruction along with safe-keeping. The frown on his face deepened as he felt the other man prodding at his mind, but for another reason entirely. He'd grown far too used to the feel of another reading his thoughts and emotions, which should certainly have him more than worried. However, at the moment he was more concerned with Albi's attachment to that ring. He could feel it, subtly, at the edges of his own thoughts. An obsession, almost.<br/><br/><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Doesn't matter. Just let it drive him mad.</span> </i>Such dark thoughts caught him by surprise, unshielded even as he watched to see if Albiorix had heard. Or perhaps he was to busy staring at that ring as if it were a long lost lover.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">If you're lucky, you won't have to deal with this link anymore and the Death Eater conundrum will take care of itself,</span> he smirked. </i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Three," </span>his eyes never left Albiorix as they spoke, Hawke watching the focus of his attention.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"><i>Too bad I can't use magic right now. This would be the perfect opportunity to take him out. </i></span>What was wrong with him? It was as if his thoughts had slipped down the moral ladder. He crossed his arms, remembering that he had in fact carried that damned ring for several minutes. Whatever it's effect on the Death Eater, it seemed to have made Hawke quite irritable.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Three more murders. I suppose that's better than thirty-three. And they always leave something behind. No matter how careful a criminal thinks he is. There's always something."</span>Though really it was more a matter of knowing where to look.<br/><br/>Albiorix was talking again, scoffing at the thought of Azkaban.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Too bad they don't keep dementors there anymore.</span></i>He hadn't forgotten 'Arthur's' collapse in the department of obliviation on the night of the attack. It was as if he'd had no defense against them at all. He shook the dark thought from his mind, his own gaze now on the ring. He should shut down his thoughts, block it out, but then he would wall out Albi as well.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I'd rather know what my enemies are thinking. </span></i>Then he was met with that brilliant grin from the Three Broomsticks, the one he'd been taunted with by Arthur at the scene of the man's very own crimes. That night seemed forever ago as Hawke wondered why it was that someone so . . .<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">So what?</span></i>It was a pity Albiorix had turned to dark magic, he conceded.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"It's not me you have to worry about. For now. I get it, your mother turned you into a twisted bastard with a penchant for cursed rings."</span>There might have been an underlying tone of sarcasm to those words. As he said them, he noticed he'd advanced nearer to the damned ring. And that Albi had moved closer in response. Subconsciously protecting it.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Analiese really is a piece of work, though."</span>His body still ached as proof.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"The kind of enemy you take down from the inside." </span>His eyes flashed mischievously.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"But we have more pressing matters for now, of course. Anyone strong enough to attack the Ministry, make a deal with dementors . . . "</span>He likely couldn't hope for her son's help anyways. He seemed just as frightened of her and rightfully so.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I suppose you have nothing to worry about if she finds me, then. I've had more amicable relationships with pocket lint."</span>There was an expression on the other's face that Hawke couldn't quite place. He made to search the other's head . . .<br/><br/>Then suddenly his hand went to his wand pocket reflexively as Albiorix practically lunged to close the space between himself and the ring, pulling it almost dramatically close to his face and gazing into as if it held all of life's secrets.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You're off your rocker,"</span>Hawke growled, hand not leaving his side as the other seemed to grow agitated.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You're right. We aren't friends. Not even close. The only reason I haven't tried to blast you across the room yet is your bitch of a mother nearly killed me and I don't fancy seeing her face again unless there are bars between us."</span>His own temper was rising, not helped by the growing ache in his head and the pain stabbing through his shoulder with every movement. Even though he'd felt the Death Eater cool off, Hawke was not so easily doused.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Now, perhaps you can't see it, but your focus hasn't left that thing since it touched your palm. How do you expect to destroy something you can't seem to put down for five minutes?"</span>Why did he care?<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Just let the bastard kill himself.</span></i><br/><br/>Albi's next words made his blood run cold.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Horcrux . . . It can't be . . . </span></i>Eyes widening as he now looked upon the ring with sudden understanding, a look of horror overtook his face as thoughts crossed the barrier between them, unbidden.<i> <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#8000ff">I will make you whole again. </span></i>Hawke fought not to whip out his wand, useless as it was currently.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "You can't possibly think that's a good idea. Have you learned nothing from others' mistakes?" </span>He could feel his magic rising to the challenge, the need to destroy the abomination, the darkest kind of magics, held in the hand mere feet from him.<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Stupid! You can't duel right now. Not here. Stop this.</span></i>But he couldn't, having lowered the walls around his lack of self control to escape that shack. The potion bottles on the shelf beside him began to clink lightly together, dust rising off the floor at his feet.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"><i>Breathe.</i></span>The dust settled back in place and the room went quiet once more . . . to Hawke's surprise.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"Whatever vow you've made,"</span>his voice calmer now, Hawke shook his head in disbelief.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"You know as well as I do that a horcrux is only a piece of a person, barely anything. Not even human."</span>For what else did it mean to be human? Than to possess a soul?<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> "Regardless, I held that thing for only a few minutes. And even now, simply standing in the same room . . . it's changing the way I think. And obviously it's doing something to you as well."</span>Of course. His darker thoughts from earlier made more sense now. A horcrux could make a wizard mad if exposed to it long enough, made a man miserable. Hawke ached to destroy it, take it back to the Ministry and toss it into the Veil.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">"I took you for a murderer, Albiorix. Not a fool."</span>