Gunnar had been thinking a lot lately. Finding out there is magic out there does that to a guy. That’s not to say he wasn’t magic, but he wasn’t a wizard either though. What was he? He remembered his father- Jax, had mentioned himself making a deal with the Devil. He remembered souls being mentioned, but he had thought his father was crazy, an absolute lunatic far too gone off the coca.

But learning what he had about the wizarding world made him curious, his father had possessed inhuman strength, speed no man could possess, and stamina far beyond the norm. Gunnar had inherited these traits and he had even tailored them to the point he could throw a punch a dozen yards and still hit his mark, as well as pick up objects simply by wishing he could. He could not wield a wand, as no wand would choose him, and he could not get anything to happen by uttering the incantations his companions used.

  He had to know, and so he pulled out his desk drawer and removed the dusty journal he had obtained from his fathers safe house he had used when getting away from the family, in Lebanon Kansas.

Gunnar lit a cigarette, checked to be sure he had plenty of coffee, and began reading his fathers journals; starting on a page indicating a vacation that was never mentioned to himself or to anybody else as far as he was aware.

March 30, 19XX

Going on a vacation next week, should be good. Could use the time away from the family.

April 2, 19XX

Today I boarded the ship, we are set to sail to an island off the coast of Britain.  The drinks are phenomenal, the food is better.

Gunnar flitted through the pages hoping to find something more interesting than his fathers accounts of the food

April 15, 19XX

Today was odd, we cannot see more than ten yards ahead of us. We’ve been cloaked in a thick fog for most of the day.

April 16, 19XX

We’ve wrecked, I don’t think there are any survivors aside from myself. I managed to float to the shores of an island with the aid of a lifeboat, afraid I have nothing more to assist me but the boat, a map, and this journal. I cannot find this island on the map.

April 17, 19XX

I think I’ve located survivors, I can hear their screams in the distance. The fog still has not lifted. I think I’m going to try and find them.

April 22,  19XX

It’s been five days since I’ve left the beach to find the source of the screams, and still there is nothing to be found. I managed to find fresh water but I am starved beyond explanation. Today I think I’ll venture farther into the woods to try and catch something, anything, to eat.

April 22, 19XX

So much fog, will it ever lift? I killed a rabbit with a spear fashioned from a sharpened rock, a long stick, and vines pulled from an ancient oak. No sign of other survivors. They have to be here, I can still hear their screams at night…..why are they still screaming? Tomorrow I venture further into the woods.

April 23, 19XX

I cannot explain what I saw today. Huge figures, cloaked in black. They did not walk, but more floated around me through the woods. The fog seemed to grow thicker the nearer they drew. Misery. I felt pure unadulterated misery, and fear. All hope left my body, I could physically feel my soul sink. I think maybe entering these woods was not wise.

April 26, 19XX

Today, I met the devil. He called himself Ekrizdis. I happened upon his mansion in the center of this island. He offered me freedom from this place of misery today. I asked what became of the others from the ship….he merely chuckled as a response.

I didn’t want to agree to his terms…to collect the souls of…muggles, he called them. People, they were merely people.

He sicked one of his demons on me, the cloaked figures from the woods belong to him.

They are faceless, lifeless, soulless. Nothing but dread is felt in their presence. He told me he could make it stop, he said he could give me power beyond belief. His…what was the word he used? Ah yes, dementor, lowered his faceless hood towards my own face as if coming in for a kiss. Something told me it would be my last kiss.

I accepted his terms, the cloaked figure immediately furled into a ball of smoke and rushed me, but when It made contact it did not hit me, but went through me. Perhaps even that isn’t a valid description for it never left my body. The misery, the fear, the dread, it all stopped. In fact…everything stopped. I no longer feel anything. Not love, not happiness, not sorrow, nor anger. Simply nothing.

He says I’ll be home before nightfall day after tomorrow; how I do not know.

Gunnar stopped reading at that point, long dead cigarette still hanging from his lips, his coffee gone cold. His father had met the creator of dementors?  But the man he spoke of had died decades ago, the island he had found is now known as Azkaban

For hours he paced up and down his office, back and forth. He smoked cigarette after cigarette, before finally coming to the conclusion that he would visit the island his father spoke of.

He had to know more.

Gunnar arrived at the docks early, ever since he had become an associate of The Order Of Merlin he had become paranoid and wanted to be sure no one had left any surprises ahead of  him. He had always been on the wrong side of the law, and had always had enemies. But magic, now….magic was new.

He boarded at 5:45 in the morning, one hour and fifteen minutes earlier than the crew had intended.

The ship he now stood on was a cruise liner, but there were to be no passengers, as he had bought out the ship for this trip. As he leaned on the rails and began lighting a cigarette the captain approached him. “Hello there! I suppose you are our very important sole passenger this expedition? We’re honored to have you aboard!”

Gunnar knew this man was not honored by his presence, how could he be? He was not important, he was not well known nor did he hold any sort of power. “An honor you say, boyo? Tell me one ting captain would ya, what the fook is so honorable about an everyday gangster? I’ve got money, aye. I’ve got a gun, aye. But aside from these tattoos and these fookin meat claws I’ve got for hands what makes me special?”

Gunnar wasn’t know to take well to ass kissing, and he would make no exceptions for this captain. The captain began stuttering his words, barely able to form a sentence. Something about this tattooed degenerate seemed off, dangerous.

“Just shut the fook up if yeh can’t speak properly ya fookin’ ham, get outta me sight!” Gunnar laughed as he watched the man back peddle, nearly falling on his ass as he did.

He made his way below deck at around noon. The crew was under instruction to not enter the lodging area under any circumstances, a man needs his privacy.

Despite nobody entering the restricted premises, quite the commotion was heard top side

Gunnar stood in the center of a particularly large room he had removed all furniture from. He was shirtless, skin glistening from sweat, every muscle rippling as he waved his arms around him sending objects of different size and weight flying across the room. Holes exploded in the interior walls as he threw jabs and straits at a remarkable speed. A dark aura surrounded Gunnar now, not seen but felt even by those above deck.

After a couple hours of training his….magic? He sat down on a shattered desk, pulled out his fathers journal, and began to read.

May 1, 19XX

Today I arrived home. The boys were thrilled to see me, my wife however was the maddest I think I’ve ever seen her before. I cannot blame her though, I did disappear for the better part of a month, or was it a month? It’s hard to say, now. Time has been passing so quickly, although it feels like I’ve lived a decade longer at the same time.

May 5, 19XX

Hunter told me he loved me again today, and again I said nothing in return. How could I lie to him, my own son? The truth is I feel nothing for anybody, though the pleasures of life are much more intriguing than they were before my trip.

Gunnar flinched, before verbally speaking his thoughts “Who the fook is Hunter? Me only brother is Kellz, wherever he may be” He paced the room a bit before lighting another cigarette and continuing.

May 13, 19XX

I’ve come home again, to Mary. I believe I will stay here with her for awhile, Los Angeles has got more to offer me than Kansas anyhow.

Gunnar sat rigid. His mothers name was Mary. They had lived in LA growing up.

Did his father have another family?

He left the destroyed room and headed up top, once he arrived at the top of the stairs he clung to the nearest rail, head spinning. He pulled a flask from his waist band before taking a long pull from the scotch it contained.

“Things are getting a wee bit interesting now, eh Gunnah?”