Once we grew comfortable with what had happened, and I explained everything to Perenelle, she asked if we could use the Resurrection Stone to see her father. I cautioned her on the impact it could have, and the temptation she would experience to return to him often. We agreed to use it but once. When her father returned in spirit, he was deeply grateful to see that Perenelle had been rescued by magic. He told me that he had been wrong and thanked me for saving his daughter.

"Protect her, Nicolas," he had said, in a fragile voice.

"I will," I told him. "For all time."

Perenelle showed quite a lot of interest in how this had worked. In fact, her interest in magic grew daily. And soon I felt comfortable leaving her with the Elixir of Life, to administer to as many of her townsfolk as possible, so the curse would not spread. My family knew of my search to save her, and their questions grew accusatory. They understood that to bring Perenelle back from certain death, and to return her to such perfection, I must have invoked the Dark Arts. Furthermore, I used that magic on a Muggle. And not one Muggle, but many. I did not deny what I had done, but I could not tell them the truth about the stone. I wish I had. I think they would have understood in time. It was nearly impossible for them to accept that I had abandoned the light side of magic. And, in that era of history, it was believed to be a step that could ne'er be forgiven — especially to share such powerful magic with the Muggles. I forgive them now for how they responded. But, at the time, I despised them. Perenelle and I would eventually leave, never to return.

But first I needed to face my foe.

In my anger at what I had lost with my family, and what I had almost lost with Perenelle, I was determined to track down the champion from Hogwarts, for I knew in my heart that her only purpose in cursing the village was to cause me suffering. It was not difficult for me to locate her. I knew precisely where she would go — to follow the Durmstrang champion for clues to the lost keys of Sacredoon.

Together, we witnessed him perish. In his hand was proof to the existence of the fabled land. Both of our eyes changed in the knowledge of it. That was my darkest and most vulnerable moment. Instead of vengeance, instead of rage, instead of love, I had become the personification of greed. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to find the remaining keys of Sacredoon, and before she ever could.

By the time I was ready to return to Perenelle, the Black Death had spread so quickly across Europe that even the Muggles knew of its name. It was unstoppable and risked the eradication of their kind. From the years 1346 until 1353, the Black Death curse killed hundreds of millions of Muggles. Though I tried endlessly to stop it with infusions of the Elixir of Life, there was nothing I could do to impede the swell, and I was forced to accept that it was all my fault. I should have never provoked such hatred in the Hogwarts champion. And, worst of all, we knew that I could have stopped it sooner, had I not focused so much on Perenelle.