Languish the Course Winter 2021 Finished

While there were some that were hopeful, there were others that were despondent, such as Hess and others that were agitated such as Pride. He had hoped that Vladimir was already be dead and buried by the time he and his cousins left on holiday. Vladimir was just too stubborn to even die. A frustration that was hardly ameliorated by his cousin's insistence to save the son of the patriarch. The forgetfulness potion and a few lies had bought him time but it has become abundantly clear that he needed a bit more.

While his cousin looked out the window, Pride considered his options. Some were more desperate than others. Some were crueler than others. The simple notion of pushing him from the moving locomotive crossed his head. Too desperate he reminded himself. Not for reasons of brute force but rather because he might survive. Hess might fight back, of everyone in his family he was the most concerned about trying to put Jürgen down.

"I can't believe we got through all of this in one piece Mathias,."

"Well, most of us did," he corrected him. "We should have stayed out of the monster-hunting and stuck with politics." The plan was simple -- find a nice muggle girl, none of them were worth marrying but some were more tolerable than others and take them as their own. Be seen, be known. The even had a cousin that was part-Veela. The plan of a superficially tolerant family had been in the works for years.

Erin was not born out of love and only partially out of lust. The girl was born out of a need. The fact that she was quite mad these years, a boon that they were all in part responsible for. They never believed in equality, in spite of their verbal protests and their lies. They were better in every conceivable way. They just knew how the game of politics was played -- let them believe they have as much value, that they have a chance and that they are somehow in control. Let them believe until their flame is snuffed out, until you are too far ahead of them to be touched any longer.

"Probably," Jurgen admitted. "But," he sighed. "I had to try." The failure that he was. "It was too deep a hole for any of us to manage," he admitted. They were all in over their head but he really did not know what to do. There were just so many moving parts, he was certain none of the saw the whole picture. "There are a few things that really bother me, looking back they never really made any sense," the Gryffindor leaned his head back against the velveteen seat.

"What made Vladimir a target in the first place? What are the chances that two of our cousins would get tangled with hags?" Not that he would have rather they be eaten, but there was the question of probability. It was unlikely that those two were outstanding enough to attract hags. He felt that there was a large piece of this puzzle that was terribly obvious but lost under the table. "Do you think Vlad has one of those slug monsters in him too? Maybe he is a man-hag," afflicted with the vile nature of those dark beings, the change incompatible. As soon as he said it, he knew how idiotic it sounded but in the final hour it was these random, mad considerations that might make all of the difference.

"As soon as we reach London I am going to have a driver take me to St. Mungos," he advised."I know it won't be a pretty scene, whatever is waiting there..." his voice trailed off as he looked out the window. He knew how important appearances were, there was no blubbering in public. Public opinion was everything -- when people develop a collective opinion good or bad, ones fate and opportunity closely follows.

"I think you are overthinking things," Mathias lied. Yes, he lied as he always did. "We have a huge family, every pureblood in this school it related to us one way or another. She was our third cousin and more than that you know as well as I that she was troubled." It sounded right, logical even. The hags were near their school. Of course those affected would be wizards, purebloods being better than the rest. Of course the purebloods were all somehow linked, a dedicated genealogist only needed to look back enough generations to find a common thread.

"Vlad was too stubborn to turn into a hag," he retorted. Not that he was fully certain, it was just something that he felt was unlikely. He knew for a fact that his cousin was cursed and they both knew that his curse was enduring yet somehow unique. The living darkness that came from him was simple 'worse' than what came from his peers. There was an arrogant passing thought that it was because their blood was simply better. No proof, just an awareness that they were better and that such could be relevant.

"I don't think it is a good idea to go to St. Mungos," and save that spoiled bastard's life. "The cure did not work on him, we both knew that his situation was probably a bit... different." Give him reasonable objection, fair cause. Nobody wanted to spend their holiday in a starched, aseptic space, not even a do-gooder like Hess. A change of subject, "have you found a decent mudblood to bring home to pops?"

Gideon was there of course, the youngest among them and therefore the most overlooked. There was not much to say regarding this matter - of Vladimir's impending demise, of Prides questionable ambition or of Hess' foolhardy attempt at heroics. Fate had plans of its own and all they could do was meddle with its uncanny course.

He was not invested in the lives of his peers, but rather entertained by them. Of their suffering and of the madness this life promises them. What made Gideon unique from his cousins was the fact that he had no particular ambition. He had no heroic journey. He was not curious, he did not consider himself brilliant. No, he was a people-person. An observer. An interventionalist. While many presumed Hufflepuff's loyalty and personable nature relegated them to the role of best friend, of sidekick, of pathetic, pudgy onlooker, few considered the fact that some Hufflepuffs relished in the misery of others. There was no reason beyond the primal, cruel sense of glee.

He as however interested in what they had to say. The door to their compartment was firmly closed and latched. He wanted nothing more than to hear his dear cousins speak freely.

Mathias advised against visiting Vladimir in the hospital. A piece of advice he had no intention of honoring. There was something terribly cold about leaving someone to die alone, to fail to say last good-byes. It was true that they did not wholly understand why Vladimir was affected differently. How he even survived as long as he had, and that was part of the reason he had to be there. The physicians had no idea what they were dealing with, he wondered if they had seen the living darkness. They had to of at this point he reasoned.

Then Pride would change the subject. Ask about what mudblood he had his eyes on. Jurgen would simply shake his head in disgust. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He snapped. "I just don't get it, and I mean I really do not get it." He was frustrated with his callous indifference. "I am not interested in parading around some glorified trained donkey to make people think we are what? Accepting," people were certainly not that stupid were they? "You are going to show off that idiot of a girl to the world for the purpose of saying you have an open mind, knowing wholly that part of the plan is to show how poorly they mix in spite of your best efforts. You're going to let that pretty but very very stupid thing go down in infamy," he accused. Yes, he knew the plan. Find someone, did not matter if boy or girl because it had nothing to do with love or even lust. Just a partner. Something lesser. The further less it was, the better. A mud-blood, a half-breed, hell better if both.

It would be good for Uncle Thaddeus' political ambitions. The tolerant family lauded for progressive ideals in a new age of wizardry. There were of course those that were harshly opposed to the notion of equality, the idea of diluting ones bloodline. That there was value in blood and in legacy. There were also those that wanted more, wanted wands and status as they had neither, they were willing to do anything to meet those ends. Some of the violence was real, the true efforts of rebels and patriots on both sides but there was a bit of external manipulation. A slanted playing field, as SCAR was known as a terrorist organization. As varied efforts to 'make things right' or at the very least equitable failed to appease a volatile subpopulation, the actions of a few would sway the thoughts of the many.

Indeed, it is foolish to say that the words, the actions and the intrusion of a few, a vocal minority would not sway a storied and ancient order. It was often those few that were burdened with the weight of change for the better or for the worst. Their family would quell these few voices before they gained enough volume to change the values of others by feigning an acceptance of their own. Showing the people the futility of such efforts. There were some assurances being made, such as what Mathias was doing with Winnie.

"I am not going to lower myself to these political games. I like the half-breeds and mud bloods just fine, I actually believe the fact that we can coexist. I am going to find myself however a nice pureblooded Seer girl." He looked Mathias over with a disgusted gaze. He knew the boy well enough to know that there was more to Pride than blind compliance. He had a bloodline to protect, he had a future to maintain not only for himself but for those that came after him, but even he felt a little sick when he really thought about it. Even Vladimir was willing to step outside the family norm, the heir apparent. They did not have to do it. They could do something else.

"You really think so?" Mathias scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "You are both a moron and a hypocrite," he replied before he gave the door the side eye. Yes, it was locked. Nobody else was here. "You enjoy the wealth, I mean who bloody well bought your shoes. Your righteous indignation sure as hell did not!" They, the aggregate sum of them enjoyed lives of leisure and opportunity which was afforded to them because they were legacies. Because they had the right blood, the proper potential and of course they toed the line.

"I am doing every last of of us a favor, one you will benefit from too when you want to become some bullshit advocate or Professor of condescension. You can say you believe whatever you want to believe but every single day, you exist at the whim and the will of our family." He glowered a bit at Jurgen, there was no time for moral crisis' or second guessing. "Just tells me how weak you are, knowing that when it comes down to it you won't do what needs to be done," he almost spit the words out at him.

Surely his attempt to murder Erin was his 'best effort'. That he could not have tried harder. Weak. "There is no way you will be the successor if you are not willing to do what you need to."

He did not fully grasp the fact that he was being needled. That Pride was looking for an excuse, nay a reason to stop him. To divert him from changing the course of intended events and later claim that it was a squabble, an unfortunate mistake. It was Hess' memory that failed him. It was the owl that was faulty and failed to deliver. A series of erroneous events that culminated in an unfortunate event. Yet he would endeavor, life would go on without Vladimir Athanatos.

*Crack*

The sound of fingers clapping against a cheek. bright red, angry mark shaped like Jurgen's fingers would grace the teen's features. Hess was a bit more restrained than their peers, those that Pride would rile with ease. "I could care less about succeeding anyone," he claimed. In fact he had in his opinion enough, he wanted for nothing and unlike Pride there was a such thing as 'enough.' "Your ambition will consume you beyond reason, someday you are going to regret what you have done and loathe what you have become."

The compartment was too small to part company but he looked forward to arriving in London. His gaze to the frosted window, they were almost there.

That might be he case, but that was a problem for future him to contend with and present him to not worry about. His intention was to be struck down, to have Jurgen dragged off the train. His reckless and desperate attempt to slay Erin had made him infamous apparently he had more restraint than he credited him. He would have to find another way, Athanatos had hours, perhaps days at best.

London drew near and he knew exactly what he had to do. "Giddy, we should probably spend a bit of time with your brother," he feigned sympathy for a boy who was likely more pleased than even he to see Vladimir die. Not because Gideon would take his place, there was no chance of that, he was barely a wizard. No, Giddy was a monster dressed like a "little prince", somehow mother's favorite in spite of his proclivities. The boy liked to see others suffer, he was incapable of affection even if he emulated such it was merely for spectacle. It did not fool most for long, not even mother. She loved him as much s she feaed him Mathias believed, a sick and twisted truth of his family and the strange affections they had.

They would arrive in London, Mathias' parents waiting for him. Uncle Thaddeus was a no-show but one of his secretaries was standing there next to his parents with a bored expression on her model-pretty, overdone face.

Little did Hess know, this was where his journey would soon end also. That Pride had plans for him, plans that would send him away to places where he would be unlikely to return from. The train would screech to a stop, the chugging of the engine would slow to a drawl before a burst of steam from the pipes overhead would cloud the train. He had a bad feeling, one that remained like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He was not certain why, what this sixth sense was that magged at him the way it had as he uncomfortably shifted his carry-on.

He would exit the train and his parents were waiting for him. it had been months since he had seen them last. He wrote them regularly but there was nothing like seeing those he cared about in person. A sense of security he had not felt in months. Comments on how tall he had gotten, characteristically lanky like most of the men in his family. Smiles and laughter, offers to have a late lunch and a quiet evening at home, for a brief moment of selfishness he forgot about Vladimir like the rest,