drowned hopes [Asher]

[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

15 October 2027

The newest addition to the Karkaroff dynasty had finally opened to a smashing success – even if a Pensieve Gallery didn’t quite match the subtly sinister atmosphere of Borgin and Burke’s or the Poisoned Spindle and the usual clientele they catered to. No, this acquisition was a little more family-friendly, a little more oriented towards the decent part of society that didn’t dwell in the shadows. Opening day had featured an odd mix of families, rowdy students, screaming kids, and curious adults who'd come to examine the newest storefront in Horizont Alley. On Cas's part, the store was a purely monetary calculation, to satisfy the curiosity of anyone who asked…and certainly not the result of a twisted inner desire for acceptance into the light. That was the idle fancy of psychologists with too much time and money on their hands, not a legitimate theory. No, the Karkaroffs had never belonged to mainstream society and the Pensieve Gallery was only designed to siphon off Galleons in a respectable (if not slightly gimmicky) way from that otherwise untouchable crowd. He was pleased with its reception so far, if only because most people didn't seem to realize a Karkaroff owned the place.

He didn’t spend much time here, but Cas couldn’t ignore the suspicious observation that Damian enjoyed the Gallery a lot…too much. That spelled trouble, namely the kind of trouble that resulted in stores burning down, so Cas dutifully dropped by at unexpected times to keep watch. He didn't trust Damian to behave himself, but Merlin help him -- this store would live longer than the youngest Karkaroff brother's idle fancies. Cas entered the store and waved his wand so the sign flipped from 'closed' to 'open.' He glanced around as he continued the slow movements of his wand, removing covers from the basins and dimly illuminating the store. Even if the concept was cheerful, the store itself still sported a solemn atmosphere. The storefront was long, shaped more like a hallway than a room, and there were long rows of the Pensieve basins organized by topic and theme. The room was lit a dim blue, and walking in felt like stepping out of your normal life and into a halfway room of in-betweens. Choose your story – that was the cheesy tagline written under the name of the gallery and the ’opening day’ banner that was still draped from their first day.

Cas walked along one of the rows now, and his eyes swept over the neat little gold placards that described all sorts of memories that he’d gone to great lengths to collect. Spent years collecting, long before the store had become a reality. Famous Quidditch Matches, Five Star Culinary Experiences, Around The World With Magizoologists. Cas rarely treated himself to a dive, and he was suddenly struck by the idle thought that diving into a Pensieve came unnervingly close to the sensation of drowning. The idea of surrendering yourself to the veiled mystery of another person's memories…no, it didn’t appeal to him. On that thought, he stopped by the ‘Mystery’ basin and glanced in – the memories changed every week for those ticket-holders that wanted a surprise – and Cas traced the edge of the bowl with his fingers. He’d created a gallery of legacies, he supposed, if only because his own would never live to see the light. But it was hard to mourn the future that he himself had chosen.

asher rowan burke

[asher rowan burke]

you're a saint

and i'm a sinner

October 15, 2027
Casimir Elias Karkaroff

While weeks had passed since his run-in with Karkaroff in a far-off land, Asher grew more frustrated by the day. For all his cleverness and ambition, the answer to the question of one’s purpose completely evaded him. Thankfully his fortunes were better elsewhere. Slowly, his business began to thrive again, not nearly at the numbers that once were before but steadily increasing. Word was starting to spread. The Burkes were not going anywhere. The Ministry could not touch Asher Burke. Even with that little stunt of a raid Rivera had pulled off on New Year’s day, nothing had come of it. So, in the end, it was a favor to Asher and his image. The full force of the Department of Law Enforcement had walked onto his property and come out empty-handed.

And like any good member of the magical underworld, he kept his ear to the ground. This new business that had appeared—a Pensieve Gallery was an interesting premise. Even Asher had to admit it was a clever idea. But with a Karkaroff at the helm, it would be limited. Couldn’t they see the potential here? Asher certainly did, but his clientele tended to have….a particular set of tastes. Nonetheless, Asher was curious enough to step away from The Ivory Room for a short while. It was still early, but Asher’s day had begun far earlier than most. Horizont and Diagon Alley so empty was eery, what regular folk might think of Knockturn Alley, but those like Asher found solace in that type of enigmatic darkness.

The sign read open, and Asher waved his wand, so the door opened, closing behind him as he stepped in. A figure stood in the back observing one of the basins. The posture and the way his shoulders squared up were clearly Karkaroff, but each son had a distinct presence about them. The observations purebloods were trained to make in their society if only to size up their rivals. But he didn’t speak right away, waiting a few moments as his eyes scanned the rest of the room. Simple. Mysterious. ”You never struck me as the type who needed an escape.” Those were for the idealists, dreamers, and the unsatisfied. Wand put away and hands behind his back, Asher walked forward slowly.

The floor hardly made any noise under his boots, they didn’t have the gleam his dress shoes typically had, but he was dressed casually this morning. It was hard to blend into polite society with the usual dark suit he sported at the club. No, today he wore his dark jeans with an equally dark shirt and one of the leather jackets he was so fond of. Hazel always rolled her eyes, but while she could replace his entire wardrobe with whatever brand name she deemed worthy, this was one thing he would not let go. But here they were, two men in a land that was not their own but where they had settled. ”My sister informed me of this new…venture. I had to see for myself.” Asher did not pry into his sister’s life if it was not about the business—much to his mother’s dismay, but he would put galleons she’d heard it from a certain younger Karkaroff son.

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[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

Cas had always tended to favor the twilight hours most, after most people had retreated into their homes and the city seemingly shut down for the night. But really, that was when his world came alive – that elusive underground network that operated in the shadows and ran this city. The night was a time for business, when shady clients would meet shady dealers and they would strike a deal of the century (that was legally questionable at best and certainly qualified to place you on the most wanted list of the Law Enforcement office if you tried it enough times). And it was a time for secrets, because people tended to display at night all the skeletons in their closets that they hoped would never see the light of day. Yes, Cas was most busy after the sun had set, always ready with his business and his ledgers to capture a secret and turn it into leverage. In the right sort of circles, that type of power was worth more than galleons.

So he enjoyed the silence that rang through the air in the gallery, no signs of movement in the store besides his own shadow playing off the dim blue light of the basins. Most people tended to fear the thought of being alone – and so they surrounded themselves with meaningless noise as a result, finding people that would fade from their lives and moments that they would someday forget in a futile attempt to drive away the haunting truths you could discover about yourself when you were alone. But Cas had always found comfort in the fact, always found an elusive power in the introspection and quiet reflection of being alone with himself. He liked it, chose it for himself more often than thought. It was exhausting to be around other people, and to constantly wear the mask that they were used to seeing. No, people were a weakness and one was better off keeping a careful distance. The dark and silence was his home.

The ‘Mystery’ basin was an unusual experience compared to the rest of the gallery, a strange mix of temptation and fear for Cas. He hated the thought of surrendering himself to another wizard’s memories, drowning in a past that wasn’t even his, but…there was a thrill that came with diving into the unknown, something he knew better than most. He hadn’t really tasted that freedom since his cursebreaking days, even if the Order had also played that part for him once upon a time. He’d gone chasing that high after the fall of the Purifiers, indulging in Damian’s pleas for adventure and to take the RV and actually do something with it -- especially once it became clear that the end of the Order meant the end of his life of adventure. Cas had enjoyed it more than he would ever admit to his younger brother, but indulging in that high meant that his life had grown rather stale since then. His fingers outlined the edge of the basin, and he was contemplating that fact when a voice spoke behind him.

Asher Burke…speaking of mysteries. A long time had passed since their school days in Durmstrang, when every pureblood had simply been an untested heir, an undetermined player in the larger dance that all the ancient pureblood families participated in. They’d been expected to prove themselves, both in their magic and to each other, but that had all been a long time ago. Now they were set in their ways, each walking the path they’d chosen and suffering the consequences of it. Cas had gone off the beaten road (even if none of his Durmstrang schoolmates were aware of the fact), and he’d gotten away with it for now. Nobody seemed to know just how far he’d gone down the ‘blood traitor’ path and he waited every day for the game to finally be up. One day. Asher, on the other hand, was suffering his own sort of infamy in the public eye and in pureblood circles. The Burkes had been hit hard by the death of Elaine and all the revelations that had come from that day, and many purebloods had been sure it would be the end of the family. A chance to carve up the Burke legacy and exploit that weakness for their own gain.

As for Cas – well, he still reserved judgment. The fact that the eldest Burke was standing in his store now, without magical handcuffs or an Auror escort, said a great deal about his ability to survive the worst. But that wouldn’t save the Burke family from a slow death, unless they could prove themselves capable enough to navigate the challenges of legacy and the next generation. “Everybody’s always searching for a release,” Cas responded, his tone a carefully manufactured detachment from Asher’s probing statement (a classic pureblood tactic - search out your opponent's weaknesses). “The key,” he continued as if he was simply discussing the weather, “Is knowing how to make money off it.” Nothing spoke quite so loud as galleons, at least not when you were comparing legacies. And he knew Asher was that kind too – strategic, cold-blooded, the perfect businessman.

Cas thought he did a fairly good job in avoiding the urge to roll his eyes as Asher explained how he’d heard of the gallery. There was no question that he must mean his youngest sister, because the middle one had mysteriously disappeared shortly after the fall of Hogwarts (and she’d been a professor there, hadn’t she?). That was suggestive, and it didn’t take a Purifier, or Order angel, to guess why that might be. So soon after her brother’s arrest too. Still, it didn’t quite satisfy Cas to correctly guess that the source must be Hazel Burke – who had something of a reputation in pureblood circles for being an airhead and easily distracted by shiny objects. She wasn’t exactly the type of ‘proper pureblood girl’ that he wished Damian would spend his time with - but then again, Damian was impossible to control and it would only make matters worse if Cas tried to share those observations. His youngest brother already had more than enough unsavory connections, so a dumb blonde really wasn’t the worst that could happen to him (or, of course, the family).

He halfway turned from the basin to glance at Asher, studying the man from his peripheral even as he lazily maintained most of his attention on the Pensieve. “Have you come to try a Pensieve? It must be cheaper than a trip abroad.” No, Cas hadn’t forgotten his strange run-in with Asher in Kazakhstan. He’d been on a fairly routine acquisitions trip, searching for an artifact barely mentioned twice in a thick book, when he’d encountered the other pureblood abroad in a seedy pub. Asher had been caught up in his thoughts then, wondering about how to find a purpose and clearly in no mood to share further. Cas wasn’t a particularly sharing person himself, but the trait was exacerbated when he was up against a player every bit as cunning and strategic as he was. It was difficult to be transparent or genuine when he didn’t know what Asher’s game was, where his head was. The Burke family might be in a crisis, but Asher had seemingly landed on his feet since his surprise release from the Ministry’s holding cells. It was hardly Cas’s style to expose any of his secrets, or family vulnerabilities, to a man who might just be playing another game. So he mirrored his opponent's moves - a carefully phrased question, alert for any hint of what it all meant.

asher rowan burke

[asher rowan burke]

you're a saint

and i'm a sinner

October 15, 2027
Casimir Elias Karkaroff

Karkaroff seemed entranced by one particular basin. Asher was unfamiliar with this layout and what made that one so special. Perhaps the memory entombed had caught his eye. On the one hand, Asher was curious, but on the other, Asher hated these things. He was a proponent of learning from the past and one’s mistakes. How to push forward and sidestep the traps that had caused you to trip and fall. But what would you learn from someone else’s memory? Standing in the cold void surrounded by an experience that was not yours. It was not the same.

Asher knew Ivy and Hazel had felt different, but their lives had been different. The lessons Asher had learned in his life had been at the sharp end of a painful experience. And when whatever it was stabbed him in the chest, and Asher refused to look down and push forward—it simply twisted in place until he was on his knees. Other people’s memories were useless, with nothing to reinforce it. But he had to hand it to Karkaroff. Profiting off witches and wizards with dreams far out of reach, letting them pay gold to let their fingertips just graze them.

Casimir had been two years behind in at Durmstrang. The man before him stood tall and proud, but Asher remembered that stone-faced walking through the doors. Those eyes darted around so quickly while Asher and his peers looked on with curiosity. At the time, and perhaps still, even Purebloods had a hierarchy among themselves where certain families simply lingered on the bottom of barely acceptable. Karkaroff answered him without reservation, his ideology not so different from Asher’s business perspectives. Dangle the promise of something to fill that void, and people would come running. Asher offered glory and gold and the chance to look down on one’s opponent as they lay on the ground. Casimir offered experiences and often experiences his customers would never create themselves.

Nodding in approval at Casimir’s business sense Asher took a few slow steps forward. Hands characteristically behind his back despite the lack of his formal attire. Hazel might have shed a tear at the sight of Asher not wearing an eighty percent black outfit. Even Ivy would have commented. But she’d given up the right to do so. Asher made a note to ask Hazel more about this place. It wasn’t lost on him that she was close with the youngest Karkaroff brother, a shameless character who enjoyed attention far too much. Not all that different from Hazel, now that he thought about it. His eyes trailed over the neatly written slips of parchment labeling each basin. To acquire this many pensieves was an accomplishment in itself…

Despite hearing the question, Asher did not look or answer right away. He stopped at a Pensieve showing a tropical location. It wasn’t anywhere he would travel to, but he doubted any of these basins carried a memory of Kazakhstan. ”If you want a dreamer, perhaps you can entice my sister Hazel instead.” Asher’s head had never lived in the clouds, or at least he’d been forced back to Earth to stay there. The gravity of his legacy weighed him down even as it hung in the balance. Asher was also fairly certain Casimir’s brother had already taken care of that.

Everybody stuck their head in a Pensieve for different reasons. Curiosity, boredom, a sense of adventure. He thought out loud. Despite his ruthless nature, Asher was a curious man, smarter than he looked, and truthfully, he missed his post at the Department of Mysteries and the work done there. And he didn’t have Ivy around anymore to discuss anything with. If there was a memory he wished to extract, it would be the feeling of that betrayal, but he’d never learn with that pain to remind him.

His eyes darted slowly to the basins he’d already examined before looking back at Casimir. ”I have no doubt all your trips abroad could fill all these Pensieves.” It had been a strange run-in, and despite few words shared, it had given Asher much to think about but merely led to more questions. And it was a large country, even the magical parts. How interesting to run into someone in a hole in the wall. They didn’t know much about one another, which was by design. Only the careless attacked without provocation. But Asher didn’t push, returning to his thoughts. ”One can drive themselves insane chasing a memory…a vision that is not theirs.” He spoke casually. At this point, he’d continued his slow pacing to another basin he hadn’t examined yet. Tilting his head slightly, he peered inside but remained far away from the cloud-like contents. ”They always crash and burn—going down in flames.”

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[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

Cas liked to go where others sensed danger. Risk and reward were so tightly intertwined that it was impossible to chase after one without inviting the other, too…but Cas had never been satisfied with just having enough. There were some purebloods that didn’t like to make risky gambles – no, their game was to protect the family name and survive another generation. But Cas had never been raised like that. To accept those rules was to condemn the Karkaroff name to obscurity, especially after the careless way his father and uncle had squandered their opportunities. Cas liked to take a risk, because it was the only way to satisfy his need for more. His need to return the family to the status they'd had once.

He knew about the stigma that surrounded Pensieves, the way wizards feared them and avoided them whenever possible. He knew why they weren’t in common use at the Ministry for their trials, or why Hogwarts hadn’t introduced them into the curriculum. None of that mattered to him. He’d played the game patiently for years, slowly acquiring one Pensieve after another, and then slowly filling each one with the precious memories of others. And besides, all of it had been done because Cas knew that as much as people might fear something – their morbid curiosity would surpass it sooner or later. Their need to dream, to escape, to pursue something they could never have themselves. A Pensieve Gallery might be a risky venture, but he knew that soon enough – every business owner would be kicking themselves for not having thought of it first.

“I don’t seem to be her type,” Cas replied rather dryly to Asher’s stray comment about his sister. They were both the heads of their families, the oldest sons, and so a conversation might be needed soon on that subject in the near future -- at least if this curious connection between Hazel Burke and Damian continued on its course. That was the way things were done, when younger siblings seemed to go in a certain direction and given the pureblood fascination (obsession? Addiction?) with passing on the bloodline. But Cas dreaded the thought of having that conversation. He knew Damian wouldn’t listen to a word of it, and truthfully he could only guess at his little brother’s intentions most of the time anyway. But the thought had to be on Asher’s mind too. And Cas didn’t know enough about the Burke family dynamics to guess whether they’d already reached an internal agreement about appropriate marriages and the next generation. Aleksander’s convenient marriage had at least delayed the trip to the gallows (to the end of the aisle) for the rest of his siblings. And Cas would accept that as an excuse to procrastinate on addressing Damian's outlandish behavior for as long as he could.

Asher seemed vehemently opposed to the thought of diving into a Pensieve, and Cas couldn’t blame him. He’d been taught to see his mind as impenetrable, and his thoughts as a valuable secret that should never be breached. In that sense, the Pensieve went against all his mother’s teachings, not to mention the main line of thinking at Durmstrang. “You can also find phoenixes in the flames,” Cas suggested, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head to better study Asher. “Perhaps there are other treasures hidden there, too. It’s never quite possible to know until you’ve taken the plunge.” That went against accepted pureblood teachings, but it was the cursebreaker philosophy. And, honestly, the hidden secret for Cas's success at Borgin and Burke's. He didn't really believe in red lines, because anything could truly be pushed to new limits. Playing with memories was a dangerous game, tricky if not done right, but most people couldn't resist. Maybe Asher couldn't, either.

asher rowan burke

[asher rowan burke]

you're a saint

and i'm a sinner

October 15, 2027
Casimir Elias Karkaroff

Memories were a fickle thing. An absolute and unbreakable truth but only to its owner. How many of these memories in the Pensieves played out differently when viewed by somebody else? Asher could have chuckled if he was the emotional type, but he was not. Hazel was a unique character. Her flair for the dramatic and confidence sat neatly at the right level of arrogance required of a Pureblood child. But she’d never have the same pressures and responsibilities as Asher, no matter how much his parents pestered him to find Hazel a suitable match. And since Hazel never visited home, she wouldn’t know that Asher was not interested in putting Hazel in that position. But it could only go on so long.

Phoenixes and flames—the universal reference to rebirth. Asher wasn’t sure it applied to him. He’d been broken down over months into the fundamental pieces of who he was. And since his release, he’d simply been figuring out how to piece them back together again into a mold that was not of his making. By how Hazel looked at him, Asher knew she could tell something was different, but Asher didn’t even know what it was. Years of training in both Occlumency and Legilimency felt like a waste these days. He was strong enough to protect himself from others but perhaps not himself.

And since Asher clearly was not interested in diving headfirst into a Pensieve, that still left the question of why he was here. Ivy was the one who was best with words and presenting them elegantly. He’d always lived more in his mind. ”My father was an Obliviator for many years.” Asher began to explain. ”But he never let us—me forget anything.” his jaw clenched slightly as he slowly walked alongside the row of basins, his eyes glancing down at the labels. ”I’m sure he’d have a few words about all this. What do you think yours would say?” Asher wondered. The relationship between pureblood fathers and sons was complicated, to put it politely. Merlin knew Asher hated his own father for not liberating his mind of so many painful memories, instead forcing Asher to make it some impenetrable vault of haunted recollections.

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[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

It had been ages since the last time Cas and Asher had crossed paths, and their random encounter abroad was like something that had happened out-of-reality. It had been disconnected from their usual dealings, whether in business or at the occasional social event they both found themselves at, and Cas had spent a long time after dwelling on it. Asher’s loyalties had become extremely well-advertised after the Hogwarts fire, and the Burke family’s Purifier ties had since become public business. But it was strange. When Cas looked at Asher, it was like glancing into a slightly distorted reflection. A version of himself that he could’ve become, if only things had gone a little differently. If he’d been recruited by the Purifiers instead of the Order, convinced to accept the classic pureblood lifestyle as the one that could save his family.

But their paths had gone in radically different directions and Cas was forever changed because of it. He could still feel the influence of the people he’d met through the Order, long talks with Parvati or his constant battle of wills with Claire, and it meant that Asher would always be an almost-version of himself – but one that was constantly moving farther away. And maybe that was for the best. Cas had been young, too young, the last time a wizard war had torn the pureblood community apart. He only remembered the aftermath the way his father had wanted him to remember it, and his earliest memories were a twisted hell of what Oskar Karkaroff had put his oldest boys through. This time, the Karkaroff family was out of the spotlight and it was the Burkes that were feeling the price of infamy. And the dark circles under Asher’s eyes suggested that he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.

Cas listened quietly, finger tracing the edge of one of the Pensieve basins as Asher mentioned his father. It sounded like an unhappy relationship, which was an unfortunately common symptom of pureblood families. Cas glanced at Asher even while he maintained most of his attention on the Pensieve, and there was a glint of painful understanding in his eyes that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to erase. But his father had made himself irrelevant, and in the end – it was the new generation that had kept the family alive. “He set up his chessboard the way he saw fit. Now I command the board.” It might be a tired metaphor, but it was the cleanest way to explain how Cas saw his world. The various pieces could be created and moved, working tirelessly towards a central goal – and then there were the people who existed outside the game, a selfish pleasure that Cas kept to himself and away from prying eyes. At some point, Cas had decided to throw away what he'd been taught and try something new -- a fact that had been easier given his father's permanent residence in Azkaban. He wondered if Asher had ever tried to escape, or if he'd accepted what his story would be without ever having a chance to write it himself. Still keeping his posture controlled and gaze locked on the Pensieve, Cas said mildly, “I used to believe that we were here to keep the ship steady. Leave things as they’d been done by better people before us. Now I wonder if it isn’t a son’s destiny to destroy his father’s legacy.”

asher rowan burke

[asher rowan burke]

you're a saint

and i'm a sinner

October 15, 2027
Casimir Elias Karkaroff

Such poignant words from the patriarch of a family that had fallen so far. Although, how did that differ from the current state of the Burke family? Especially when Asher was still only an heir, his father still lived. Perhaps it would all have been easier had his father passed on before seeing his only son incarcerated and disgraced. A knot of anger formed quickly in Asher’s gut, but he ignored it. Casimir, on the other hand, had far more leeway with his path forward. Not even troublesome siblings stopped him. As far as Asher knew and heard, none of the Karkaroffs were looking to curse the other when their back was turned.

Asher stopped, Casimir’s words hitting him harder than his simple question all those months ago. It made Asher uncomfortable enough to question why he’d even come here. There was no empathy to be found in the eldest pureblood son. A father’s duty was to drive every ounce of that out of their heirs. Merlin forbid such a thing as silly and soft feelings get in their way. Remaining stoic, Asher kept his gaze on his counterpart. ”I suppose it’s a matter of what to put in its place.” Asher finally remarked. It was not the hostile conversation he’d expected, which didn’t displease him. Even with all their walls and defenses, the pair could perhaps relate more than any others in the world. Asher knew he would return.

---

September 8th, 2028

Asher placed a glass in front of Casimir. The glass was not full, but one never drank such things merely for thirst. Brandy, neat—just as Asher preferred it. And should the Karkaroff request ice, he might simply have to curse him. His father had introduced Asher to drinking while he was still in school. He hadn’t wanted his only son to appear as a lightweight or sloppy in any case. But that was a whole other topic. Asher had not visited home since before his incarceration, and at this point, he was simply ignoring the messages from his family. And it didn’t appear they were bombarding Hazel with them yet, or perhaps she burned them on the spot. That seemed more up her alley.

Thirty-six. Hazel had only reminded Asher of his birthday the previous week, of course. But he’d avoided Hazel for the past few days, his patience nowhere near the levels he needed to deal with her. Although it was strange to find himself here, or it would have been at another time. Casimir had a way of asking pointed questions, and Asher had made it quite clear (in his own way) that perhaps this path leading to his arrest was over. And why? Well, a lot had changed for Asher. After nearly a year of isolation, his sister’s betrayal and long-lost memories reappearing changed a man.

”The business is doing well, I presume.” Asher commented. He rarely walked these busy shopping areas, but when he did, there was always a handful present. Asher still refused to jump into a Pensieve, of course, but only because deep down, he could barely handle his memories because each painful one had so much emotion attached to them. Pausing a moment, Asher asked a question he’d been saving for the point where the pair could share a drink without suspicion. ”Your siblings—would they ever stop you if they felt you walked the wrong path?” Had Cas been in Asher’s shoes, would his brothers or sister have crossed him the way Ivy had crossed Asher? He’d always wondered that about the Karkaroffs. Their unity had always been quite unmistakable.

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[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

8 September 2028

Cas kept visiting the Pensieve Gallery for more than purely business reasons. He enjoyed the quiet solitude more than the pulsing rhythm of the Cursed Spindle or the crooked dealings of Borgin and Burke’s. At the end of the day – Cas had always thrown himself into the storm because he’d gone looking for the eye. For that little bit of piece that would quiet the demons in his head and distract him from the vultures that surrounded his family, searching for that hint of weakness that would kill them. He'd traveled across the world, both as a cursebreaker and in all those long acquisition trips afterwards. He'd entered the darkest parts of magical society, flitted around the edges of the Order’s steady warmth, and even descended into the hell of his family’s estate when the need arose.

But he’d only ever found peace here, in the muted blue light of the Pensieves. He didn’t seem to be the only one. Asher Burke had a tendency to be attracted by the very things that should repel him, an intense fascination for the poison that always seemed to weaken him in return. There were rumors about a dalliance from days past with a girl who wasn’t suited for the heir of an ancient pureblood family. And there were rumors about the sister who had betrayed him and disappeared. And Asher continued to return to the basins that he also refused to enter. Yes, Asher had a taste for the things that continued to destroy him – and it didn’t seem too different from the same need that drove Cas to constantly toe the edge between the angels and the devils.

“It’s popular with families,” Cas observed as he accepted the drink Asher had poured, even if he didn’t drink it right away. He hadn’t expected that kind of success with the Gallery, but most people didn’t seem to know that it was operated by a Karkaroff. It attracted students and families and tourists, for the most part, who seemed to like the idea of escaping into somebody else’s world for a while. It was the most legitimate business out of the ones that Cas ran, since he didn’t have secret back rooms like the others. But he and Asher were seated in the back of the Gallery, out of sight, and Cas could only see hints of blue light in the distance. “And the others are steady. Ana manages the club, for the most part. Damian's been asking for more responsibility.” He'd been needling Cas for ages, and he could feel himself begin to entertain the thought. Ana, meanwhile, didn't need any oversight. Cas barely stopped by the club anymore -- she knew how to manage her things, and she hated being micro-managed.

He considered Asher’s question for a while in silence, finally taking a sip of his drink while he thought it over. “We walk different paths, but they all converge at the same spot,” Cas began slowly. There was always an element of caution in dealing with another pureblood – of wanting to avoid handing over the ammunition that could end you. But there was a war playing across Asher’s face, and he was battling with himself about something. It inspired more introspective honesty from Cas than he might’ve given in the past. “They don’t always get to see all the details from the start, but they have to trust my judgment…and know that everything will work as long as they do their part. If one fails, then everyone fails. They all know that.” He’d been lucky, he supposed. Damian always complained and Ana was opinionated, but they knew the importance of family and rising together. They’d questioned him before, but never failed to do as he’d asked or guided. It meant that while other families began to falter and fail, the Karkaroffs had stayed solid. And even begun to earn some of their old power back.

asher rowan burke

[asher rowan burke]

you're a saint

and i'm a sinner

September 8, 2028
Casimir Elias Karkaroff

Asher listened casually as Cas explained how the businesses were coming along. He nodded. It made sense. The sister seemed the most capable, but surely her involvement was limited, considering her career choices. And Asher was not fond of the journalist brother, though he supposed he was capable in his own way, much like Hazel. She had stepped up when the family needed it the most and while Asher wormed his way out of a lifetime in Azkaban. ”I imagine you keep them out of the rest of your businesses?” Asher referred to the below board activities, of course.

Naturally, the seedy underbelly was a dangerous place to operate but often necessary to survive as real gold was acquired in such a way. Asher didn’t consider Cas a competitor per say as smuggling was a very broad area but he found it was best to work together in some cases for the survival of both families. And most faced similar problems in cleaning their gold in the end. As of late, Asher found his usual pipelines weren’t as reliable as he would’ve liked so much of his time and effort was spent in that area. Normally he would’ve sought advice from Ivy, but that clearly was not an option anymore nor had it been despite how Hazel might pester him.

But, so far none of that sibling in fighting appeared to fracture the Karkaroffs. Or Casimir, as the eldest, managed to figure out the secret to getting one’s siblings to list to you. It was hardly unethical to a pureblood of their lineage to place a younger sibling under the Imperious Curse, and it had certainly crossed all their minds at some point. Asher nodded, sipped once more from his glass. ”I see.” Considering the answer, Asher didn’t feel his question was answered. But he supposed that was asking the Karkaroff to admit the weakest link in the chain as well.

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[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

It was strange to say that the family was close when Cas honestly didn’t know how his siblings spent most of their time, but that was how it went. And honestly, he preferred it that way. Damian liked to try his best to scandalize Cas with hints of all the shenanigans he’d gotten into, and it never failed to give him a headache even as he rolled his eyes at his brother and told him off. Cas would always be there to bail him out of trouble, sadly, but that was all the knowledge he wanted about what Damian got up to. Ana was less prone to cause headaches, but he still didn’t want to know who she spent her time with. She was more likely to run into undesirable sorts (as their mother would call it, at least) at the Ministry, but since Cas did often enough – there wasn’t much room to judge. She didn’t volunteer the information, and he didn’t ask. That way, they could all live in a fairly pleasant balance.

“It would be dangerous if they knew everything,” Cas pointed out. Dangerous for him, he meant. It wasn’t prudent to let one person learn all your secrets, even if they were family. It made you vulnerable, and Cas never wanted to be put into that position. He could confidently say there was no one person in his life that held that kind of power over him – for which he was grateful. The thought scared him more than he cared to admit. “I keep Borgin and Burke’s for myself,” he said resolutely. It was the flagship of the Karkaroff enterprise, and his main vehicle for conducting his less-than-savory business. Who his partners were – well, he didn’t want to share (especially not with Ana, for obvious reasons). “Do you keep the line separate between business and family?” Cas felt bold enough to ask. His original inclination, at least from observing Asher at school, said that the Burke was secretive to an extreme. But it might’ve been impossible to continue in that way while he’d been arrested. Cas had seen Asher’s youngest sister at their club more often than before, and Damian had mentioned her repeatedly (one of those examples where Cas developed selective deafness).

Cas sipped his drink and eyed Asher at his non-answer. “Do you?” he said mildly, wondering at the family drama that went deeper than what rumors could capture. The pureblood community was shallow, so their gossip was shallow. It never seemed to capture the internal cracks and tension that permeated every major family. Cas paused, stared at the liquid left in his glass, then decided to ask. “Have you gone down a wrong path?” It was an embarrassingly honest question for the sensitivities of their social class, but a central part of Cas’s withdrawal from the social aspects of mainstream pureblood society was due to his deep hatred for it. He was cautious and subtle, but that ultimately wasn’t suited for families that craved power and social standing. He was a good head for the family if he wanted to stop the Karkaroffs from breaking apart. Maybe that was what’d been needed after his father and uncle’s legacy, but it wouldn’t do much to reverse their fortunes (only to stop the downward spiral). The same spiral that the Burkes seemed destined for now. So he’d asked. Asher could choose to sidestep it without killing the conversation, if he wanted.

asher rowan burke

[asher rowan burke]

you're a saint

and i'm a sinner

September 8, 2028
Casimir Elias Karkaroff

Asher’s eyes darted from his glass to Casimir. He couldn’t help it with the comment. The reality of the statement had lingered over Asher since that endless day in the Ministry’s backrooms when Hazel had informed Asher that what Rivera said was true. The fact of the matter was that Asher trusted Ivy far too much and put himself and the family at great risk. He supposed that was why he continued to ignore messages and letters from his mother and father back home. He was not interested in broaching the subject of his former sibling. At least he could count on Hazels’ self-interest and vanity to ensure a comfortable level of loyalty to the family.

A year ago, Asher would have felt indignation and shock at such a direct question, but one could say their respective walls had lowered an inch or two over time. ”Is it all not one and the same?” Pureblood society operated on specific terms, unlike competing businesses. At least in the Burke lineage, it was never separate. They had been raised to operate as one, even with a link broken. Asher let himself dwell on those thoughts, staring at the dim blue lights across the room when the elder Karkaroff returned with yet another question.

He sighed, returning his attention to the glass in his hand and the small amount of amber liquid swirling at the bottom. ”We’re all walking the wrong path in someone’s eyes.” Asher’s expression shifted as he thought of the many moments in his life where he stood at a crossroads. Each path led to the disappointment of one and the satisfaction of another but was never in sync with what Asher wanted at his core. And during his temporary imprisonment and isolation, his mind had worked itself into a frenzy as demands rose from far-off places like his heart.

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[Casimir Elias Karkaroff]

There was still some variety among pureblood families, it seemed. Cas was careful to draw the line carefully between family and business. They were all involved in each other’s affairs, that much was true. And his siblings knew more of his secrets than most people. But he let them in when it suited him, or when he didn’t have any other alternative. The Burkes seemed to take a different perspective. Messier, if their current situation was any indication. They all seemed tangled up in the others, and it was harder to draw neat lines between what was Asher’s and what wasn’t. “A certain level of plausible deniability keeps the peace,” Cas countered quickly. There was no way Ana could have gone into the Ministry otherwise, or Damian into the scribbling he called political reporting. A healthy level of distance gave everybody something to lose. Their common interests tied up in the family name kept them bound together. It was a delicate balance that seemed to work for the Karkaroffs.

Cas sipped at his drink and looked studiously away from Asher, giving him a hint of privacy to consider whether he wanted to answer Cas’s question or not. In the meantime, his eyes traveled over the narrow walls of the backroom they were in. The blue light of the Pensieves seemed to fill the small space, even though they were in another room entirely. He gave a nod to concede to Asher’s point – how many times had he been accused of that by Order members who couldn’t possibly understand his situation? There was no right or wrong, really, just choices and consequences. “Some people’s opinions matter more than others,” Cas observed, leaning back in his chair. The day he’d stopped letting fear of his father drive him was the day he’d been set free. It’d been much easier to take control once he’d stopped ceding power to a man he hadn’t seen in 25 years.

That wasn’t the real crux of the issue, though. People mattered less than prices. Cas exhaled slowly through his nose and took another calming sip of his drink. “Once you’ve decided what you’re ready to lose, then you know what stakes you’re playing for. Someone might gain a lot of clarity about what’s right and wrong, after that.” His mother would certainly disown him if she ever discovered the choices he’d made in life. But Cas played to win and he’d disregarded his mother as a serious player long before he’d shaken off his father’s long shadow. He weighed the risks before involving his siblings or giving them tasks, since they were more valuable, but even so – how could you play the chessboard if you were afraid of losing pieces?

asher rowan burke