A Righteous Infliction of Retribution

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Shane Stark

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Shane had only been to the Herrogard a handful of times but he remembered it was quite clearly. This was the place where his pyrokinesis has been taken away forever, and more importantly the place where he had been reunited with Sophia. Shane didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the Herrogard, no matter how much distance he put between himself and his family.

Assuming Valcan would not be pleased by his presence Shane decided to take no chances. Instead of coming to the door and knocking like a civilized visitor the young man apparated into the library. Wand drawn at the ready the brunette looked around the room, his brown eyes wide as they searched for the man who raised his father.

After looking around the library Shane found that Valcan was not there. Not exactly a shock, as it was going on midnight. He exited into the hall, which he crept down quietly. Unfortunately for Shane he did not know much about the layout of the Herrogard, so he was just wandering randomly, wand out in front of him, hoping to find Valcan.
 
Valcan had been enduring a series of sleepless nights and had yet to discover a remedy. Persephone had brought him a cup of hot tea hours ago, which had long since succumbed to room temperature. His head placed in his hand, he attempted to occupy his time with a book. The large man hated this feeling, not able to sleep but feeling immensely exhausted at the same time. He was even considering taking tomorrow off of work.

He did not realize that he had left the door to his office ajar, having entered through it hours ago. His fingers turned the thin pages of the novel, but he didn't know for the life of him what it was about. His blue eyes, which had long lost their gold hue, scanned the words in the book without taking anything in. He sighed heavily, muttering something incomprehensible in his native tongue as he shifted, the ornate armchair he sat on creaking with the pressure of his weight.

He desperately wanted to join Sarah upstairs, yet he didn't want to keep her up with constant tossing and turning. Valcan wondered if he should see someone about making a potion. He had never had any skill in Potions, and was quite assured that anything he would concoct would most definitely poison him.
 
By some miracle Shane seemed to have picked the right way to walk. In what seemed like no time after leaving the library he spotted some light peaking through a partially open door. Shane stopped in the hallway a bit away from the door and looked inside, thrilled to see that Valcan was sitting inside reading a book. Poor pathetic bastard won't know what's coming.

Shane apparated out of the hallway and into the room, coming to stand in front of Valcan. His wand was clutched firmly in his left hand, mere inches from Valcan's chest, pointing unwaveringly. The brunette was breathing deeply, his brown eyes glaring down at the man. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and the urge to strike the man was growing. Shane simply stared, waiting to see if Valcan had anything to say for himself.
 
Valcan thought he heard the slightest movement in the hallway, and thought that it may be Persephone, or Sarah, coming to check on him. A moment's silence brought him nothing, and he shrugged it off. It was not uncommon to hear things during the night- the Herrogard was a couple hundred of years old, after all. It had been a long time of even hearing tell of ghosts in the Herrogard, but it was not uncommon. Even if they were here they kept to themselves. His kids, every once in a while, had told him of seeing things at night, but even then they may have been simple fabrications. Old estates made noises, almost by being old. Unperturbed, he turned back to his aimless reading.

The large man was corrected as he heard a pop, remaining motionless as someone he had not expected to see, for quite a long while at least, appeared before his eyes. Slowly, meticulously, he shut his book with a quiet snap. His eyes wandering from the book and to the man pointing a wand so diligently at his chest, his lips curled into a smirk. Blue orbs flickering in amusement, he stated smoothly, "Well, hello, Shane."

Not a sliver of worry was betrayed by his posture, his demeanor calm. For a man with a weapon inches away from his heart, he appeared to be quite content.
 
A growl started to rise in Shane's throat when Valcan reacted so cavalierly. It was no wonder Sophia disliked the man, he was utterly infuriating. Although, if Shane were not so angry, he would have appreciated the calmness and sheer sense of power that radiated from Valcan. But the young man was angry. Someone very dear to him had been taken and it was high time someone paid.

"Valcan," the brunette spat, his voice oozing hate. "I assume you know why I've come." Shane kept his dark eyes fixed on the man, watching to ensure that he wasn't going to try anything. He came for retribution and he was going to get it.
 
Valcan chuckled as something very inhuman rose in his great nephew's throat. For all that anyone knew, the old could have been on a picnic. Lips morphing from a smirk to a slippery smile, he replied, his voice containing the texture of satin, "Your assumption would be correct." He did not make a move, did not waver as he sat in his high backed chair. "You've come to avenge a man that does not deserve vengeance." He said it blatantly and to the point, making sure that his words would ring in Shane's ears.
 
The thick brows above Shane's eyes furrowed in rage. His steadiness was leaving him, made evident by a slight shaking of his wand hand. Valcan was trying to get to him and it was working, all too well. Shane had been counting on being able to keep his cool and pull out his Gryffindor bravery. Unfortunately he seemed to have underestimated Valcan and overestimated himself a little.

"How dare you," he began, his venomous voice starting to waver like his hand. "Ishmael took me in after my father disowned me for absolutely no reason. He does deserve vengeance, unlike the pathetic excuse for a man he came here for."
 
Valcan's mouth twisted into a satisfied grin as he looked back to Shane. While the Norwegian man was old, he knew how to play with words. The youth before him did not know just yet how to grasp patience, was not its master. Valcan watched in high amusement as his great nephew let his rage escape him. Never a good decision in times when tension was at its peak.

"I do not dare for small trifles," he replied softly, his voice slowly gaining a bit more of an edge to it. "I'll dare, and dare again." Raising an eyebrow, he added in his thick accent, "The man you would see as a saint was more than far from it. Ishmael was a liar and a coward, and is most likely crawling on his belly in Hell. Not even harming defenseless women was beneath him." He said this last sentence with a hint of poison, although he was sure Shane would not understand it. With a small chuckle, he continued, "But of course, he would not tell you that. Your savior would have surely found your ears too delicate."
 
"Liar! Shane's voice was louder than he had intended but it still wasn't quite a yell. The rage had built up nicely inside him, to the point where things would be on fire if he had still been a pyrokinetic. But that outlet was no longer there and the young man needed something to lash out at. He jammed his wand into Valcan's chest, seriously considering using a spell on him.

Try as he might not to be Shane was curious about what Valcan had said. It couldn't be true, it made no sense. Why would Ishmael hurt a woman? Then again there was a lot about his family Shane didn't know. Was it possible that Valcan really did have information about Ishmael?

"My ears are not delicate," the brunette spat, his voice having returned to its normal volume now that he had had a chance to process the words and think about them a little. "And Ishmael would never harm a defenseless woman, not unless it was necessary. You're a pathetic liar, just like my father."
 
Valcan's smile twisted into a frown, all amusement draining out of his expression. In no time his voice had switched from cavalier to icy, that very fact radiating in his voice as he spoke. "Tell that to my sister," he hissed. "There are obviously a lot of things you didn't know and still don't know about your beloved grandfather. But trust me- the only one who's going to be pathetic is you- if you take after him of course." His frown slipping back to a slight smirk, he added, a little more harshly at the wand in his chest, "Now, put that thing away before you hurt yourself. Little boys shouldn't be playing with wands." Still, he did not move, did not want to show Shane any sign of nervousness whatsoever.

I normally wouldn't interrupt an rp, but this is post 666.
 
Shane was quickly losing every ounce of cool he possessed. What the hell was Valcan talking about? All Shane had wanted to do was come here and get some revenge, now his head was full of confusion and questions.

"I am not a little boy you old bastard. Incarcerous." Shane flourished his wand as he spoke the incantation rather forcefully. Ropes emitted from the end of his wand, wrapping themselves around Valcan and securing him to the chair. With a devilish smirk the brunette lowered his wand and glared at the man. "Now, explain yourself. How would you know anything about Ishmael?"
 
Valcan did not make a move as Shane used Incarcerous against him, grinning broadly as the ropes held taut against his powerful arms. His hands were bound and secured, rendering all of his torso immobile. Unfortunately for the young man, the older did not need a wand to perform magic. Of course, it was more difficult to cast and required more concentration, but Valcan had years behind him, where Shane was barely out of the snot nosed stage. Remaining calm and collected, he taunted softly, "My my, Shane. Every time I see you, you're looking more and more like Sammael. It is well to see that you are blessed with his looks."

A booming chuckle rolled past his lips as Shane directed a question his way, the sound of his amusement filling the room. "How would I know anything about him? I've known the bastard since before you were a twinkle in your daddy's eye. Well, knew him, in this case." As his mouth formed into a wicked grin, he was quite pleased with how well his mocking was proceeding.
 
Deep down somewhere Shane knew how true it was that he looked like his father. Sure his hair and eyes were darker but their builds and faces were very similar. It irked the former Gryffindor to no end. Why would he want to look like the man who had banished him from his family? Despite knowing he looked good Shane hated looking at himself, because his face reminded him so much of his father. It was sickening. Having Valcan remind him of it was not a pleasant feeling and Shane reacted just as Valcan probably wanted.

"Anything my father gave me is a not a blessing, but a curse. Now tell me what I want to know." Shane crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his left hand ready in case he needed to use the wand still grasped in his hand.

The brunette's eyebrows narrowed in confusion as Valcan talked of knowing Ishmael. Sure Ishmael had married his sister, but how much more did he know? "Stop being vague. Either give me something I can use or prepare to say your last words."
 
Valcan laughed as Shane spoke, a sly smirk marking his lips. He was rather pleased at how infuriated the younger man was becoming. "If you must consider your life a curse then, I suppose that I cannot stop you," he retorted. His blue eyes, which had once been a brilliant hue of gold, fell onto his great nephew's wand. He tested the ropes once more, finding them tight against his hands. This would be a little more difficult than planned. Cocking his head to the side, he said, "Shane, both you and I know you couldn't kill a rabbit. Be a good boy and put that down before you make even more of a fool of yourself." He did not betray a scrap of fear, as calm as if he were out for an afternoon picnic.
 
"You don't know anything about me! Shane uncrossed his arms and snapped his wand over so that it was pointing at Valcan's face. His left arm was straight and the brunette was looking down his nose at the old man.

After a few moments of glaring down at his great uncle Shane waved his wand and yelled "CRUCIO! Having never tried the spell he had no idea if it would work, but he sure felt angry enough to cause pain to the bastard.
 
Valcan had no time to reply to Shane's outburst. Instead, he worked at the ropes about him, and after a moment of wandless magic they fell away. He knew that younger man, who was currently jabbing a wand in the elder's face, would not hesitate to curse him. Moving incredibly quickly for someone who was so large, he dodged the curse that his great nephew had sent his way. Having no time to grab for his wand, he gripped the edges of the desk, and with a grunt turned it over, the heavy piece of furnishing toppling over. Everything on the surface slid off in a great mess of paper, ink and writing utensils.

Valcan stepped back, his hand darting into his robes for his wand. Pulling it out, he pointed it at Shane, attempting to anticipate his next move. "That was not smart of you, boy," he spat poisonously, "Although with that doddering idiot of a grandfather that raised you, I can't say I'm too surprised."
 
Shane had definitely not been expecting Valcan to get free of the ropes, let alone jump up and overturn the desk. As he was not exactly a skilled dueler the former Gryffindor was at quite the disadvantage. He jumped when the desk crashed down to the floor, not at all fast enough to keep Valcan from getting his wand out. This was certainly not how things were supposed to go. Shane kept his wand pointed toward Valcan, hoping to keep things at a draw for now.

"You know, I'm getting pretty sick of your insults. You seem to have a lot of words to describe Ishmael but nothing to actually say. I bet you don't know anything. You're just making asinine remarks for the fun of it." There was a glint in Shane's eyes as he said this, glaring at Valcan the whole time. It no longer bothered him that his great uncle insisted on calling him boy, he was too preoccupied with avenging Ishmael.
 
Valcan smirked, his arm held out straight and pointed at his great nephew's chest. He didn't want things to get any worse, although he wouldn't have minded teaching the boy a lesson. His chuckle was hollow and menacing. "Well, now that I've done off with him, I've got nothing but insults to hit my sister's murderer with, now do I?"

His gaze was cold and penetrating as he stared back at the boy, the amusement slipping from his expression as smoothly as oil. Valcan had been protective of Larkana in life and, now it seemed, after death. Even if he didn't believe it, he wasn't going to let Shane walk away without the knowledge of what his grandfather had really did, just as he had done with Sammael.
 
Shane's face fell as Valcan's words hit his ears. His left arm dropped slightly, lowering his wand as he took in what was just said. His grandfather, the man who had taken him in, was being accused of murder. There's no way in hell that's true. Shane regained him composure, stiffening his arm and pointing his wand straight at Valcan's face.

"LIAR! No wonder my father was such a terrible man, he was raised by you." Outraged by the constant lies Valcan was giving Shane suddenly flourished his wand at the man and yelled "stupefy!" hoping to catch the old man off-guard.
 
Valcan's expression was smug as he looked back to his great nephew. "I suppose that he told you she died in childbirth," he goaded, "That's the same lie he told everybody else."

The man's meaty fingers curled tightly around his wand as Shane rose his voice. His arm trailed in one fluid movement, his wand merely an extension of that limb. He managed to use a Shield spell to deflect Shane's spell. "Stupefy? I must say that I am insulted. Is there no room for creativity?"

Without hesitation, Valcan send Obscuro towards Shane, hoping that he would delay him a bit. Something inside was deterring him from harming the boy, but by no means would he begrudge himself a bit of fun.
 
A growl rose in Shane's throat as Valcan continued to accuse Ishmael of murder. There was no way he had been lied to about something like that. Ishmael was not a bad man. Was he? Shane had never really understood why his father had been raised by Valcan, but it was easier not to ask. The fact that Valcan might actually be right only served to make Shane more furious.

The growl escaped as the spell hit him, completely blocking his vision. "Damnit!" he yelled, frustrated at having been hit. His initial thought was to try and remind the blindfold, but the former Gryffindor knew that was no good. Beside, he wanted to hurt Valcan. The pyro in him took over and Shane cast one of his favorite spells, Incendio. Since he couldn't see Shane took to waving his wand at random, moving around and hoping to light as much as possible.
 
Valcan was pleased as the blindfold wrapped about Shane's eyes, rather content with his spellwork. However, he was not so happy when his great nephew turned on his office, assaulting a bookcase and then an expensive painting that hung behind his desk. His first reaction was to cast Aguamenti, but he had to put out the threat first. Casting Expelliarmus to hopefully rid Shane of his weapon, he sent Expulso the boy's way, taking care not to seriously maim the boy, only cause him a small amount of pain. "Children are not supposed to play with fire," he snarled, attempting to vanquish the flames, grimacing at the damage that Shane was causing.
 
Things were not going too well for Shane at this point. Even though he had started to cause some damage his wand flew out of his hand. Because of the blindfold he had not been able to anticipate the spell. He was also unable to anticipate the next spell, which sent him flying backwards into a wall. The brunette let out a grunt as she sat slumped on the floor, still blindfolded. The wind had been knocked out of him, but other than that the only thing hurting was Shane's pride.

"All right old man, you win. Will you please get this blindfold off me now?" Shane was obviously frustrated. He had never really expected to win against Valcan, but he had certainly been hoping for better than this.
 
Valcan managed to put out the last fire with Aguamenti, absolutely relieved that Shane had not hit the family tree. He would have to get a new bookcase, and the tapestry was beyond repair. He summoned the young man's wand to him, and after jamming it in his pocket he approached the boy. He smirked as Shane spoke, able to detect the high level of frustration in his voice.

Tearing the blindfold from the young man's face none too gently- he was rather annoyed about the damage to his office- he took a step back. He kept an eye trained on his great nephew, anticipating his next move. Shane would be in a world of hurt if he tried anything funny.

After a moment's hesitation, he started, "There, you have it off. Whether or not you will accept the truth is not up to me. Ishmael killed Larkana days after she gave birth to your father. Take a look at the tree if you don't believe me." This was one of the things that Valcan had realized after he had taken Sammael in, that the dates to Ishmael's story didn't match up. He had then sworn to kill the man if he ever stepped foot in the Herrogard, ever again.
 
A strange mix of pain and relief filled the young man as the blindfold was ripped off of his face. It hurt, but at least he could see. He glared up at his great uncle, rage radiating off of him. His first thought was to jump up and tackle the old man. After all, Shane was a professional athlete, and probably considerably more in shape than Valcan. But then the old man spoke, and Shane was intrigued. Could he really be telling the truth?

Shane got to his feet slowly, making sure not to make any sudden movements so that Valcan would not think he was trying anything. He looked up at the man, still angry but not unwilling to see reason. "Show me," he said, determined to see if there was an truth in what Valcan was claiming.
 
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