March 31, 1956
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March 31, 1956
It's a temperate, sunny day in Courcemont, France when Aaron is born to Pierre Macron and Alice McKay. There is no other family to celebrate besides Pierre's human friend Jaques, who is unaware of the Veela nature that his friend possesses. "Ah-rohn, petit Ah-rohn," is cooed by Pierre and Jaques as the small babe is cradled in loving arms. In an English accent with a slightly French lilt, Alice whispers her baby's name, "Aaron," as she watches him blink and take in the world around him. Pierre, Alice, and even little Aaron are overwhelmed by the strongest, purest emotion that can be sensed in the room: love.

December 25, 1958
Two years later on Christmas, the same little family is gathered around the fire. There are no presents, since Pierre has trouble holding a job and Alice needs to devote all her time to caring for Aaron. Alice sings for the trio, however, a soft little song about angels and wings and Veela-blonde hair, and after a few minutes, Pierre joins in. Aaron is still the same size in their arms as he was two years ago.

August 4, 1962
Aaron is walking now, about the size of a 2-year-old, though it has been many more years since he was born. Alice comes home from her job cleaning the Leroy house and finds the neighbor who was willing to babysit fast asleep on the tattered couch. Understanding what happened immediately, Alice rushes through the house in search of her son. She even uses her weak Veela magic to search for a trace of his emotions. The house is disturbingly vacant.

After calling Pierre at work and gathering half the village to search, Alice finds Aaron playing near the abandoned mill. The giddiness and euphoria that he would have experienced has long since worn away, and his eyelids droop as Alice collects him in her arms.

Later in the evening, Alice admonishes her husband for his carelessness regarding Aaron's Veela powers. "We are trying to live among humans here! My son will grow up as a normal human child that doesn't feed off emotions and manipulate people!"

"A normal human child?! It has been six years, and he's barely grown an inch! I know that you are ashamed of what you are, but that doesn't mean our son must be the same!" Pierre's accented voice raises, and feathers begin to carve their way out of his skin.

Aaron, confused and scared about what he did wrong, clutches his ears in an attempt to deafen the screaming. The emotions he'd fed from today were good, just like Papa had told him they would be. How was he different from anyone else?

March 24, 1986
The small black suit Aaron wears is itchy and uncomfortable. He's a tall boy for his age, about 10 in human years, so it only takes a bit of magic for Papa's suit to be altered to his size. Everyone's eyes are downcast, so he does the same.

In French, the pastor says, "We gather here today to celebrate the life of Jaques Bernard, who has now returned to his home with Our God, The Father."

Aaron doesn't exactly know who this "Jaques" person is, but his father insisted on going to the funeral despite the fact that the cost of plane tickets would strain the family coffers. When Papa told Mama he was going and taking Aaron with him, Mama simply nodded and turned her head to look out of the window, as she did often nowadays. Her days seemed to consist only of sleeping and sitting in that chair by the window overlooking the quiet town of Halstead, England.

This is the first time Aaron sees his father cry, and it makes him uncomfortable. Anger is the usual emotion that radiates from Papa, and the difference between anger's heat and grief's iciness is astounding. Aaron can't help but feed off of it a little and make it his own, which creates an artificial ache in his chest.

Aaron can't wait to get back to England where his friends are, even though Papa will probably make them leave Halstead soon.

May 3, 2001
Dear Mr. Macron,

In concurrence with the Remus Lupin Act, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

May 22, 2005
The November chill has everyone wrapped up in coats and scarves, but Aaron can barely feel it.

His blood is pumping too hard and fast with adrenaline to feel much of anything besides the weight of the beater's bat in his hand. Eyes surveying the field, he whips around on his Nimbus 2008 that he'd saved up so long for.

It's Gryffindor's final match of the season, and Aaron is intending to make it count. If they got enough points, they would knock Ravenclaw from their first place position and take the Quidditch cup.

These Slytherins were doing everything they could to prevent that from happening, however. More than once, Aaron has caught Slytherin players using dirty tactics to muck up the game.

Needless to say, Aaron is getting annoyed.

He feels the jolt of impact on his arm as he strikes a Bludger towards Slytherin's chaser, Thalia Grimke, speeding towards the goalposts. As she dodges it, the Quaffle is successfully snatched by one of Gryffindor's own chasers, but Thalia, in her anger, grabs onto the Gryffindor's robe and unbalances her enough to make her drop the Quaffle.

"That's a bloody penalty!" Aaron yells at the referee, who seems not to hear. Heat rises in Aaron's chest and he wants to yell some more, but knows he needs to control his anger lest he loses control.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, McKay," says the passing Slytherin Seeker, and that just about does it for Aaron. The heat in his chest is an inferno now, as if someone had cast a Fiendfyre within him. There wasn't a thing that could calm him now.

Following the tail of the Seeker's broom, Aaron can feel pinpricks of pain all along his body as feathers start to push through his skin. These damn Slytherins just couldn't stand losing to Gryffindor for the third year in a row. He feels his body become aerodynamic, as if the wind was parting so cleanly around him that it lent him more speed.

He can hear the rough breathing of the Seeker in front of him, see the droplets of sweat coursing down their face. They know he's coming. They are afraid of him, Aaron can sense it, and he relishes in the feeling.

As soon as Aaron comes up to the Seeker's right side, he hits them with a full body check that sends them spiraling through the air. "Oh, sorry, did I get your knickers in a twist?!" he screams after them, but the words sound less like words and more like a series of birdlike screeches.

Aaron doesn't notice the players stopping and staring at him, or the referee calling a halt to the game. The fire coursing through his veins is too great, and he heads straight for Thalia Grimke, who, of course, wants to take advantage of the distraction to score another goal.

His claws tear marks into the wood of his broom as he races head-on toward Grimke, determined to give that bitch what she deserves and knock her off her broom. At the last second, she turns her head and gives Aaron a look of utter fear, and he collides into something.

There's a collective gasp from the crowd, and when Aaron opens his eyes, he sees Gryffindor's chaser falling rapidly to the ground, too fast for even Aaron to catch her. Thalia Grimke sits on her broom, eyes filled with horror.

He knows he won't reach her in time, but Aaron twists his broom and dashes down there anyway. Her body hits the ground, and no one but Aaron can hear the sickening crunch of her bones as they shatter.

He touches down and rushes to her side, but he's already getting blocked by other players, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Their faces are scared, disgusted, and Aaron can feel the emotions coming off them in waves. The adrenaline, anger, and exhilaration are all gone, with sadness to replace them.

It doesn't take long for Aaron to receive notice that he is kicked off the team.

July 1, 2008
After 52 years of life, Aaron finally knows how genuine grief feels. The secondhand grief from his father at that funeral was but a shadow of the real thing.

He had just graduated from Hogwarts. His Astronomy professor had recommended him to a friend, and an internship at a wizarding planetarium was waiting for him. Sure, his parents weren't the richest people, but they could get by for a bit longer before Aaron secured a well-paying job to support them. The future had been bright.

Aaron should have known not to expect good things. He should've known that nothing ends the way you want it to.

His father, who had just lost his sales job for getting angry at a customer, was desperate for money. Alice needed care and there were bills to pay. Pierre remembered how, back in France, people would pay Veelas to feed off their emotions. Feeling the incredible high of human's emotions and getting paid for it seemed like a win-win. It's easy to find a donor in the seedier parts of London.

After Pierre doesn't come home one night, Alice gets worried. A day later, and she's gathering all the strength she can muster to shower, put on clothes, and start searching.

On June 30, 2008, Pierre Macron and Alice McKay are found dead on the shore of the Thames. One witness, an old Squib with a rickety shop by the river, says that he noticed two figures in bright red cloaks Levitating the bodies into the water. He called out to them, and they both Apparated away, leaving the bodies behind.

June 30, 2027
The cemetery they're buried in is crowded, and it takes Aaron a while to find their grave. He passes an old woman and a teenage girl placing flowers on an elaborate stone. They look at him as he passes by, and he grimaces before lifting the hood of his jacket to ignore the inevitable stares.

The gravestone of Pierre Macron and Alice McKay is small and doesn't have much writing. Aaron was forced to lie about their birth years since the Muggles had paid for the funeral. Out of his jacket pocket, Aaron pulls two feathers and places them gently on the ground.

The Purium Republic unveiled themselves to the world 13 years ago, while Aaron had just begun to involve himself in activities outside of the law. He'll never forget the blood-red cloaks of the Purium on the telly, and how quickly he was reminded of the cloaked figures that abandoned his parents' bodies on the shore of the Thames.

Aaron had never been a pacifist. The types of drugs he dealt and the types of people he worked for made violence a necessity. The anger he felt after realizing how the Purium were connected to the murder of his parents was unspeakable. For years, Aaron had wandered, searching for purpose amid grief and loneliness. Now, he had purpose. Now, he knew what he had to do.

"Je te vengerai, Papa, Mama," Aaron murmurs as he traces the letters of his parent's names, "I promise."
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