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Summary
Maggots burrowed into the crow’s wet innards—its delicately encased lungs, the firm rubber of its heart, the string-like tunnels of intestines. As a swarm of flies buzzed in Regulus’ bedroom, that was when he heard it. A din of voices overlapping.
…you know how to say thank you, don’t…
…there we go…open for…just like…
…think good little boys…house of God…all messy?…
…lovely like this…such a…They spoke as an auditory palimpsest. Voice after voice, almost indistinguishable, as if it was a single force speaking.
A sibylline premonition slicing through time. A crow, giving warning.
Regulus Black goes missing for forty days.
He comes back different. Wrong.