The Beginning of an End

St. Mungo’s was a department store buried deep within the heart of Muggle London. This was a fact that Athena more often than not forgot but she was far too weary to care about the brightly dressed Muggles that stared at her openly as they walked past her stationary, ever so slightly slouched frame. Her face was obscured, thankfully, by the shadows that were cast over her by the hood of her cloak though she wouldn’t have needed it for anything worth hiding had already been concealed with powerful glamour spells by a Muggleborn Ravenclaw Athena had singled out because the girl’s magic didn’t seem to be playing up as much as the rest. Athena now realised the limitations of her magic but she wasn’t beyond intimidation just yet. The Ravenclaw had expressed concern for the dark haired girl’s appearance but Athena had wheezed out her threats none the less and had fiddled with the vials of potions before randomising the order in which she took them. The Ravenclaw had complained even more about this but Athena had silenced her with a glare before offering her a swig of Firewhisky from the flask she kept in the pocket of her robes since she’d been struck down by the disease. It was to cope, she’d explained to the girl who hesitantly took a swig. Athena had then checked her watch, absent-mindedly thanked the girl and took off, heading for Hogsmeade; more specifically Hogsmeade Station where she took a train from there to London, no longer trusting her magic for even the simplest of tasks.

Now Athena stood before the deserted department store, her eyes seeing the Hospital unlike the Muggles that did not open their eyes. She exhaled and fiddled for a moment with her cloak before crossing the road, weaving in and out from between the cars stuck in a jam before melting into the crowd of alarmed looking Muggles, disappearing into thin air once she crossed over the ward line. She reached for the door and pushed it open, keeping it open for a moment to let an elderly wizard and his wife out who smiled appreciably at Athena, registering her face as they knew exactly which angle to look at her from in order to see her face. She returned the smile with a tight one of her own and ducked inside, letting the door close behind her.

The warmth his Athena immediately though it did little to relieve her. Exhaling gently, Athena pushed back the hood of cloak. She turned her eyes across the room, her lip curling at the sight of the sick - and they weren’t few and far between either; quite the opposite in fact. Athena strode past the lines of sick, hoping to get off of the reception floor before she saw a death or something of the like. She did not join the queue of people; instead she strode to the front, feeling no guilt in pushing a twenty-something-year-old out of her way. Athena said her father’s name and the secretary gave her the floor number somewhat begrudgingly. The girl did not bother to thank the woman; instead she took off for the elevators. She did not trust herself on the stairs anymore. She could already feel herself becoming short of breath. Athena took the elevator, decrepit though it was, up to her father’s floor and strode down the corridor, finding his room easily but deciding against entering it. She saw that a healer was with them but instead of making her presence known, lingered outside both out of reluctance to visit and to gather herself once more.

There was a hush in the room unless you counted Apolline’s near constant tittering as anything other than foul, screechy sound they were. Athena felt her jaw tighten a little and her eyes narrowed at the blonde woman as she complained no doubt about something or anything at all. Athena’s wand hand twitched slightly as eyes eyed the woman but her heart seemed to quiver a little in her chest at the sight of her father. His skin was forest green and covered in pimples that seemed to near constantly ooze with puss. Athena recoiled, her gaze going down to her legs, wondering if her skin had had a similar hue that morning before the Ravenclaw had worked wonders on her appearance. Athena didn’t think she’d want to know, actually. She merely distracted herself with what lay beyond the hospital walls. Her mind took the obvious turn, wondering whether her father would live to see something beyond that. It was during this pattern of thought that Apolline emerged, disgusted, from the room.

“Traitorous Half-Blood...can’t believe she’d be the one treat- Athena!”

Athena turned and immediately her mind began to protect itself as she felt Apolline’s offensive. Athena took her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the woman, her eyes darkening with the desire to show the vile woman exactly what she was worth as far as Athena was concerned. However, Apolline had barely begun and unsheathed her own wand, quirking an eyebrow at Athena as if daring her to be the one to cast the first spell. It was a challenge and a challenge wasn’t something Athena was about to miss out on. Her wand began to glow at the end and she pulled her hand back, the words on her lips when a scream ripped through their encounter. Athena blinked and watched as one of her cousins ran into the room. Apolline followed and Athena stepped forward tentatively, poking her head around the doorframe to take in the sight before her. She bit her lip and her eyes widened at the sight of her father meeting his end just as she’d prayed he wouldn’t.

“Can we get a Healer in here?” She could’ve sworn she’d heard someone call. She didn’t know, it could have been her or it could have been one of her cousins. She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.

(OOC: Filler post woo!)

The death of Gregory Goyle: April 25th 2025; aged 44. He left behind one young daughter, just graduating from Hogwarts and a wife who will no doubt remain in mourning for her beloved husband for the years to come. He expired in the comfort of the St. Mungo’s environment with his family around him, reportedly of a massive heart attack that no Healer foresaw to be one of the problems the Welsh Green Itch-riddled man would encounter. He died in peace, though. That is something the Daily Prophet has been assured of.

Athena stifled a sob that threatened to escape from her chest at the sight of her father’s convulsing form coming to rest. Her throat tightened and her eyes began to water with tears, leaving the dignified woman looking much like the other relatives of the dead in the wards. Athena ran her fingers through her hair and looked about herself, her heart constricting as she realised what had happened: she’d been orphaned. The circumstances of Athena’s birth had been a well-kept secret with Apolline playing the part of the blushing young bride surprising all of the wizarding society by announcing how fiendishly well she’d hidden her pregnancy despite more than a handful of factors suggesting - and others proving - that there was no way in hell that she gave birth to the plump, rosy-cheeked child with a shock of black hair covering her head. She’d been her father’s pride and joy until marriage had become a touchy subject, then in desperation he’d cast her aside. Now there was no chance of reconciliation. Even in death she would not dare predict his actions. She’d rather throw herself off of the top of St. Mungo’s first -- which, oddly enough, didn’t seem like a half bad idea at present.

The dark-haired girl turned away from the bedroom and quickened her pace down the hallway, wrapping her robes tight around her both to keep out the cold and to stop herself from falling apart. It was as she was turning the corner that would take her to the stairs that she heard a voice; specifically Apolline’s. Athena stopped and closed her eyes, her hands tightening on her upper arms as her breathing quickened. She immediately became hyperaware of where her wand was and she could feel it burning in the inner pocket of her robes. She looked up and turned her gaze to Apolline, finding that in the woman’s place was a jet of purple light hurtling towards her. Athena’s eyes bugged out and she dived to the right, throwing herself against the tiled floor as the purple light bounced off of the wall and began to fly back in Apolline’s direction, said woman ending the spell before it could inflict any damage on her. In that moment, Athena heaved herself back to her feet and whipped out her own wand, holding it aloft, hoping that Apolline would reconsider what she seemed hell-bent on doing.

“You killed him!” She hissed, her wand hand quivering as she fought to keep her emotions steady. “You did something! It could only have been you! He was fine before!” Athena cringed. He’d hardly looked ‘fine’. Fine was a massive understatement and she told Apolline just that. “How dare you?! You were nothing to him! You were just some dirty little bastard he had to take in because no matter what he did he couldn’t shake off your gold digging moth-Aaaaaaa!”

Athena watched with uncompassionate eyes as Apolline stumbled back from the force of the spell she’d hurled in her direction. Athena smirked a little at the sight of the woman’s hair and clothes beginning to catch on fire and Athena readied her wand for the response. The woman did not disappoint either. Not a second later a cutting curse was thrown at the younger of the two women, grazing her left arm despite her hasty dive to the right. Athena swallowed back the scream and only spared a glance to her bloody arm as she raised her wand high in the air again, whipping it back and this time throwing something Unforgiveable at the woman who raised her: the Cruciatus Curse. Apolline knew the spell well though and bounced it back on a rapidly cast shield. Athena ducked out of the way and kept her eyes on the woman, feeling the hatred of her and the devastation of her father’s death culminating in one desire: to show Apolline exactly what she was capable of - to show her what she’d created.

And quickly, the two women dissolved into the use of Dark Magic, sending jets of light in all directions - some hitting and some striking those unfortunate enough to walk out of their loved one’s rooms at the time. Cries of spells long banned echoed down the hallway and soon both women were reduced to bloody tatters of the poised elegance they’d both retained within the frazzled walls of the hospital. Athena’s robes barely clung to her bruised and bloodied form; Apolline was in a much worse state, her limbs only hanging on by what looked like a feather after a period of particularly vicious slashing spells. She was still capable of causing a great deal of harm though, this Athena knew and so she kept her wand trained on the woman.

“So what now, Athena Marianne Goyle?” Apolline asked with a hacking cough. “What have we got left, the pair of us? We’re not too different, you and I. We both care though Merlin knows we’d never admit to it.” Apolline laughed a little. “But then, I’ve never met a woman who had as much potential as you, Ms. Goyle. Even as a baby, the bastard though you were and still are, you had talent - buckets of it. You’re not any old witch, Athena. No, you’re so much more. The Dark Lord himself said that there was only power...and those too weak to seek it. But you...your talent means nothing. You won’t kill me, will you? Murder isn’t something you’re capable of. You can’t do it. You haven’t got the strength. Because, after all...you’re just daddy’s little Princess aren’t you? But no, you’re not even that any more. You’re nothing. Nothing at all...Come on Thea...you know you want to. What am I to you, anyway? I’m just a face...there’s nothing left of me now.”

Athena twitched and turned her head away, her grip tightening on her wand at Apolline’s coaxing. What was before her was a woman who had buckled long ago from the pressures of living as the wife to a man that did not love her. Yet, while Athena felt pity for the woman, that did not dampen the desire to end the miserable life the woman had led. Athena swallowed and narrowed her eyes as the ramblings continued; feeding the flames of rage that had consumed Athena. Her wand began to glow green at the end, the green of the Killing Curse. She brought it aloft and pressed it against Apolline’s forehead. Athena slowly lowered herself down into a squat so she was eye level with the woman who had died long ago. Truly, the only murder she would be committing would be that of a corpse already long cold.

“Apolline, shouldn’t I let you live...just to see you suffer? But then, where’s the satisfaction in that, hmm? Just seeing you live, I suppose...in pain. There’s the satisfaction.” Athena removed her wand from Apolline’s forehead and rose back up to her full height. She pressed her foot down on the woman’s wand, smirking at the sound of the snap. Athena then turned and began to walk back down the corridor, determined to get out of the hospital as quick as possible.

“You’re weak. You’re a coward! You’re a waste of pure blood! Not only are you your father’s bastard but you’re also an orphaned one! You’re weak, Athena! Weak and cowardly! Just like your mother!”

Apolline’s eyes bugged out of her head at the sight of the jet green light shooting towards her and she dragged in one last gulp of air as the spell struck her chest, the force of the spell throwing the woman backwards. Athena lowered her wand, the green dying on the end and swallowed before tucking it back into the inner pocket of her robes. Then, after glancing around, she turned around and hurried down the corridor, this time with the desire to get out for fear of being caught. Apparating wouldn’t be possible until she was outside and though she knew the risk of splinching herself was high, if she could manage the Killing Curse then she knew the Apparation would not hurt her too much. She needed to get out, before the Healers figured out what had happened.

Athena came to a halt at the sound of a voice and she turned a little, her neck protesting as was most of her body as the curse’s her step-mother had cast were beginning to sink into her bones. Athena’s hands jittered slightly by her sides and she reached for her wand. She turned around fully and pointed her wand back in response to the man who had spoken. She blinked a little, feeling the curse Apolline had cast wind around her spinal cord. She gritted her teeth together and held her wand out calmly, the end of it beginning to burn with a spell that was heavy on her tongue.

But weakness was beginning to grip her body as it reacted to the spells that Apolline had struck her with. She could feel the glamours begin to eek away and she glanced down at her hand to see it colour a murky green. She could feel her cheeks begin to hollow as the glamours wore away and her emaciated frame became obvious. She closed her eyes as she tried to bear the pain the spells were causing her. But, like her step-mother she soon fell to her knees, her wand rolling out of her hand as the agony of the combination engulfed her. She gasped, her throat growing dry, and her eyes began to water and she gasped once more as her body was wracked with tremors caused by the magic.

Guilt was not something she felt for ending Apolline’s pitiful life but she wished she’d emerged from the duel without the injuries she had. Apolline had ended up much worse. It was insult to injury, really, that she’d ended up dead but she’d been belted with cutting curses, leaving her a ragged mess. Athena had received similar treatment but it had got her in less potentially fatal places. Apolline preferred spells that would affect later though ad Athena could feel it now. She could only squeeze her eyes shut and bear the pain, knowing there was no other way to deal with it. There had been witnesses and she’d not gotten away fast enough. Though, even if she had the spells would bring her down before she was safe so either way, she knew the outcome; and there was only one:

Azkaban.

Marcus had arrived as soon as he had gotten Khaat's owl. He apparated quickly outside of the hosptial and burst through the door. "Gregory Goyle, please!" he said urgently to the receptionist. She told him the directions and he continued down the hall and entered the elevator. If there was any time when he would speed up time if he could, it would be now. As sson as the doors opened, Mad exited and scurried down the hall to Goyle's room.

His daughter, Athena, was standing outside of the room being relieved of her magical abilities by Brian. "I got here as soon as I got Khaat's owl," he said breathlessly. Marcus looked over at the beaten up corpse. "Damn..."