The uninvited guest who pushed open the door wore heavy black robes, with a bone-white skull mask concealing his face. He stepped into the room, leveling his wand directly at Eddie, who lay slumped and helpless against the headboard.
"Halloween isn't today, is it? That's quite the get-up for trick-or-treating," Eddie muttered. The thought was ridiculous, but his mind grasped for any levity until the gravity of the situation crashed down on him. A wand was pointed at his heart, and the man holding it radiated malice.
"What do we have here? Fresh meat that can't even stand? Is this who she left to guard the house?" The ridicule in the man's raspy voice was unmistakable. "What are you? Something like you should be at Hogwarts by now."
"Hog…warts? What is that? A hospital?" Eddie's response was instinctive.
The answer changed the intruder's demeanor instantly. "You don't know? You aren't a wizard cub- you're a filthy Muggle. Raising another one of her own while hiding her treasures... I should have known." The man's voice rose in a snarl, and he hoisted his wand higher.
"Sir, please let me explain! I don't know where I am or whose house this is. I just woke up and- " Eddie tried to plead, but the man had no patience for the words of a "pest."
"Quiet, boy…. Crucio!"
Something was coming. Both Eddie and the presence inside him felt the surge of oncoming pure Malice.
"Eddie, move NOW!" Venom roared in his mind. But Eddie's body was a broken vessel; it couldn't respond to their shared desperation. They could only watch as a bolt of jagged red lightning struck Eddie squarely in the chest.
Then it returned: The Pain. It was a familiar, agonizing white light. While perhaps not as soul-shattering as the first time, but what is the first time? Did they go through something similar before? It was still excruciating. Eddie's muscles seized, and he collapsed onto the floor, twitching and gasping for breath, silently begging for the world to end if it meant the pain would stop.
As quickly as it had begun, the curse lifted, the pain was gone... Macnair, but the damage was done. The body Isabella had so carefully patched together had been shattered again, reduced to a state of quivering ruin.
"I will give you one chance, boy. Tell me what I want to know, and I shall be gracious enough to kill you quickly," the man said, looking down at the broken shape on the floor.
What do I know? I don't even know where I am! Eddie wanted to retort, but the searing pain coursing through his body kept the words trapped in his throat.
"Where is the Book, the book of Abraham? That Mudblood Isabella must have it; she couldn't have become so skilled in healing without it. Where is she keeping it?" Greed and hunger bled through the man's raspy voice. "If I bring that book to the Dark Lord, he will finally grant me the Mark. I shall rise above those filthy half-breeds and Mudbloods!" The Man muttered under his breath, with a maniacal gleam in his eyes.
"Book of... Abraham? You mean Abraham Lincoln?" Eddie tried to wheeze the thoughts out, but his voice was nothing but a wet, raspy noise. He was broken.
"You won't answer? We'll see about that. I suppose the Cruciatus Curse was too gentle for you. I have better ways. I'll pluck those eyes out and let them simmer while you feel every bit of it- "
A second voice drifted in from the hallway, cutting him off. It was sharp, poised, and dripped with an icy elegance. "Macnair, I do not have all day to watch you play with your food. If you cannot find what we came for, do not waste my time. The Dark Lord does not care for ghost stories or fairy tales."
Eddie saw the man in the room- Macnair- stiffen at the mention of the Dark Lord.
"Very well. If you won't speak, I shall extract the truth from your skin and bone," Macnair hissed. He grabbed Eddie, dragging him into the center of the room. As Macnair pointed his wand to begin a new torture, something unexpected happened.
A small, oily thread of jet-black goo began creeping away from Eddie's skin, seeping onto Macnair's boot.
It took a moment for Duncan Macnair to realize something was wrong, but by then, the substance had already burrowed deep into his robes.
"What is this? What did you do, you filthy Muggle?!" Macnair roared.
His wand snapped up on instinct.
"AVADA-!"
A burst of jet-green spark spat weakly from the tip of the wand-then died.
Macnair froze.
The magic didn't respond.
Panic flickered across his face as he tried again, more forcefully.
"INCENDIO!"
This time, nothing came at all.
Beneath his skin, the black substance writhed violently, as if resisting something unseen- thrashing, coiling, devouring.
No… not just consuming. Fighting.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Macnair felt it hesitate- like a predator testing prey that refused to die quietly.
Then the presence surged.
"Mmmmmm… yes… you resist," the voice echoed inside him, deeper now, more pleased. "Good. That makes it… richer."
The writhing stilled.
And then it consumed everything
"Macnair? Macnair, what are you doing? You can't even handle a single boy?" The voice of the man in the living room- Abraxas- grew louder as he approached the bedroom.
"Malfoy… help…" The words died in Macnair's throat as the black sludge began churning beneath his skin like a nest of snakes. To his horror, a voice erupted- not from the room, but from inside his own head. It wasn't human. It wasn't a beast. It was something primordial.
"Mmmmmm… so this is magic…. This is what I felt before. This is it. It is… tasty." Venom rampaged through Macnair's system, systematically devouring the magical core that gave him his power. Macnair felt his very essence being eaten- his magic, his life, his very soul. He wanted to scream to Abraxas for help, to beg for and get the thing out of him, but Venom had clamped his jaw shut.
Suddenly, a loud, sharp crack echoed through the house.
"Damn! The old hag is back! Macnair, we're retreating! Leave now!" Abraxas shouted from the other side of the door. Another sharp crack followed- the sound of Apparition.
"Wait… help me…" was the last thought Macnair could muster before his body froze at what he saw, which was something even the Dark Lord had never managed before, not like this.
The goo squirming inside him erupted outward, leaping back toward Eddie. As the substance touched the boy, it swirled and swelled, expanding into a nightmare.
The transformation began.
Not gracefully. Not slowly. It erupted.
Black matter spilled across Eddie's body, crawling, spreading, devouring what remained of him. Muscles twisted and reformed beneath a slick, obsidian skin. Bones cracked. Shifted. Grew.
He rose. Too fast. Too tall.
Nearly eight feet of something no longer human.
The surface of him shimmered like liquid tar, rippling with every movement. No nose. No ears. Just two jagged white eyes, glowing against the darkness- empty and hungry.
Then the face split. A wet, tearing sound filled the room as the jaw unhinged, stretching far beyond anything natural. Rows of needle-like teeth revealed themselves, slick with thick, neon-green saliva.
The tongue followed.
Long. Alive. Coiling through the air as if it could taste fear itself.
And it did.
At the final moment, as the flame of Macnair's life was snuffed out by the creature's massive jaw, he uttered the same question that so many had asked before.
"What…what are you?"
The creature leaned down, its hot, foul breath washing over him as the voice of two monsters spoke in unison:
"WE… ARE VENOM."