Damian arrived home, his home was nothing but a single room apartment. A apartment no one would every envy him for, as it was dark and dismal there was only a single light that lit up the apartment and it was in the center of the room hanging and swaying from the ceiling almost like a spider climbing down from a thread it had spun. The walls were a dull and dirty gray colour that Damian had once thought might have been a slate gray in a previous life, but in this life it was cranked and peeling off the very walls it had placed. To most people his living quarters would look like a dump worthy of being condemned. Damian crossed his room dropping a gray pea coat he had been wearing that day onto the floor. Walking past a few mounds of clothes he made his way to his bed he slowly sat down on the edge of his bed sighing heavily.

For some reason Damian was very it wasn’t as he worked, he once was employed for the Ministry of Magic but that was many moons ago. Thinking back then only made Damian anger the Ministry of Magic turned their back on him cause of the way he practiced magic. Yes it was different compared to others but it was no reason as to firing, his father was the same as him and he was well respected so why wasn’t he, it didn’t feel far.

Damian processed a special type of skill that he inherited from his family and that was the ability to absorb seals, curses and hexes from cursed objects. Of course, with this ability there were drawbacks to it, as he absorbed them those spells became one with him. His father had this power and it eventually took his life while Damian was a teen.

Damian pulled out his wand of his pants pocket and pointed it at the record player that silently lived in the corner of his room, with a slight twist of his wrist the once silent record player came to life. A song began to play a song that Damian loved very much My Funny Valentine. When he was young he remembered his father telling him that he mother loved this song, and this was only real connection to his mother as she passed away while giving birth to him. As the music played he laid backwards onto his bed shifting slightly as he felt a spring stab him in the side. As he finally became comfortable he lifted his left arm up and looked at his tattoos. Tattoos lined his arm from his fingers up to his shoulder, each one had been either a seal, hex or curse he had absorbed. As he stared at his arm he felt a slight tingle on his upper arm it knew the meaning of this tingle. “I guess its migration time?” he said aloud.

A flock of birds was located on his upper arm the once still black silhouettes of the birds began to flap their wings as they slowly started to climb up his arm to the torso and slowly up his neck to his face. “Remember not the eyes” he said as if having a conversation with the birds and as if they understood the decided to rest on the right side of his face. To anyone muggle and wizard alike this was weird tattoos that moved on the free will, but this was normal to Damian he could go to bed and the tattoos would be in one spot but when he awoke they all would be in a new space they would call home.

Damian’s body was littered with tattoos mostly they resided on his arms, neck, and chest and rare few would house itself on his face he personally rather they didn’t but he didn’t feel the urge of fighting them. He usually would back in the days of working in the Ministry but those were long good, the people he once thought were his friends started to call him freak before Damian could even explain he was fired. Now his only friends where his tattoos.

As he laid on his bed he stared up at the ceiling and remembered the first seal/curse he broke and how his father taught him……. “Hey son come here” his father called him from the other room. Curious the young ten-year-old Damian came running from the other room to see his dad standing at his work desk. “Yes! Dad what do you need?” he young Damian asked “I think it’s time you inherited the family special secret” he said with a slight smile. “Secret?” Damian asked tilting his just slightly at his father not sure what his father meant. Without saying anything his father undid his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves to expose his arm that was black as black as coal. He had never seen his father’s bare arm before he began to part his lips as to ask what it is but his father interrupted. “This is what you will be learning today son, the ability to absorb curses. This is result of what happens your skin turns black as if dunked in ink.”

Suddenly his daydream came crashing down as a sharp searing pain raced through him. A pain that was if he skin was being set aflame grunting Damian tried to focus where the pain itself was located. It didn’t take long before he realized where the pain was originating from it was coming from his upper chest, he lifted his shirt up to his collar bone to look. And with a pit in his stomach he knew it had to be a tattoo and he so wished it hadn’t been this one. One his upper chest he had a rather large tattoo that of dual pistols both pointing in opposite directions. He remembered when he absorbed this curse and how nasty it was and it wasn’t like it will ever let him forget, the pain started to increase as response Damian teeth started to clench tighter this was absolute torture he thought.

It couldn’t be help it was time for his medicine, stretching to his nightstand Damian reached into the overstuffed draw as he searched for a bottle. Finally, he pulled it out, it was a small bottle with a greenish gray liquid in it. Inside was a potion he had brewed in which would relieve some of his pain he dreaded this potion more so then the pain, as he was never good at making Potions. With a knot in his throat he raised the bottle up to his life and with his teeth pulled the top off. With some gusto he quickly drank the gray liquid as he did his face instantly turned green. The potion though from the outside look like a thin liquid potion but in fact it had the texture and taste of sludge. Before his body could even respond to the vile concoction he passed out on his bed…