"Angus and Ruby went on a walk with Aria and Marcus, when somehow, someone impersonating Aria came and took Ruby. A minute later, Angus just disappeared too," Victor said. "And now, apparently there's a damned troll running rampant through Diagon Alley. No alarms set off here except Marcus's medallion that he set off himself. Edward and Marcus and I are going troll wrangling. I think Edward intends to take one of you with us in case we get some sort of lead on Ruby and Angus."
"Jack, you need to come with us," Edward told him seriously. "If this troll was anywhere near Ruby and Angus , we might need some of your werewolf physiology to find them or to get them free. At the very least, you might be able to save one of us from being driven through the brick pavement like a tent stake."
Angus was waking again. His memory was being swiss cheesed, and near as he could figure, he was either being bewitched or drugged with potions or both. Now he was waking on the floor again, and he was finding himself wearing only a pair of gray scrub trousers. There were now piles of bloody and muddy clothes--jeans and shirts--in a corner of the room. He was exhausted, covered in sweat, and he had blood on his chest, his arms and his hands. And now he had sketchy memories. The clock on the wall and the calendar said time had certainly passed. Days in fact. And now there were pictures taped to the wall with big red x's through them. He was alone.
He got up and went over to the wall. These were the people he loved. Robert. Kate, Edward, Simone, His kids--the teens--all with red x's through them. There were circles around Marcus and Khaat and Brian. He went to the sink and found bloody knives there, piled up. His sketchy memories were of him. Him. And he had been compelled by the Imperius curse, to do the unthinkable--time after time after time. He remembered now. And then there was Ruby. She hadn't come back. The first string hadn't come. The only thing that made sense was that she hadn't lived to get out. She was surely gone now too.
And he remembered resisting over and over and over. He remembered of what she had done to him for his insolence. And that was not something he wanted anyone else to know--not ever. He was bruised and bleeding, and his left arm and shoulder weren't moving well. Besides that, they hurt like hell. he suspected that maybe there was a broken bone somewhere.
There was an uneaten plate of food on the lab table. In fact, there were several uneaten plates of spoiled food there. He didn't want any of it. His stomach was seriously nauseated, and the idea that he had been used to kill his own family made him violently sick. He didn't deserve to live. And he didn't want to live without them. He fell limp on the floor, no desire to get up. Defeated. Done.
by 
