TB

The Boy Who Burned Too Bright The rain had washed the blood away. By the time the Aurors arrived, the only thing left was a ruined cottage and a single wand buried beneath the rubble. "Who lived here?" one asked. The older Auror frowned as he examined the blackened wood. "No one," he answered quietly. "At least... that's what the Ministry records say." Twelve Years Earlier The Sorting Hat hesitated. "Not Slytherin... too loyal." "Not Ravenclaw... though clever enough." "Braver than he knows..." The Great Hall waited. "Gryffindor!" Cassius Maelstrom let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and crossed the room. Bright auburn hair caught the candlelight as whispers spread through the first years. "Who's that?" "Never heard of the Maelstrom family." "He looks terrified." James Potter scooted over with a grin. "Come sit here!" Sirius Black smirked. "Don't mind Prongs. He's convinced everyone's going to be his best friend." Remus Lupin smiled politely. Peter Pettigrew waved enthusiastically. Cassius smiled for what would become one of the last genuine smiles of his life. No one noticed the bruise beneath his collar. No one saw him flinch whenever an adult raised their voice. And no one knew that every holiday he returned to a house where silence was more frightening than shouting. He became excellent at hiding pain. Heroes often do. By third year he was one of the brightest students in Hogwarts. By fourth year he was dueling older students. By fifth year even Professor McGonagall admitted, quietly, that he possessed extraordinary talent. But power has a cruel habit of attracting darkness. The first Death Eaters began whispering his name. Not because of who he was... But because of what he could become. One winter evening, Cassius disappeared. When he returned three days later, he refused to explain where he'd been. His hands shook. Fresh scars crossed his back. And for the first time, Sirius Black looked at his friend and