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Prowling the halls, looking for wayward children in need of punishment- a habit he will never be able to quit. The rustle of cloaks, the soft click-click of heels on the hard stone, frantic whispering- the sounds of mischief- send his pulse racing, as though he were facing battle rather than frightened, unruly students. The initial expression of shock and fear of being caught on innocent faces, the nervous fidgeting and poorly constructed lies, the crestfallen realization that lost points and hours of detention will bring with them further retribution in the common room. It all makes him feel alive, sends sparks of pleasure down his spine, tendrils of power tickling his fingertips, and for a brief moment, he can understand the crazed laughter of a madman as he tortures man after man into insanity.
But the moment passes quickly, pressed to the back of his mind to be pulled out and examined later as he decimates potions ingredients, and he assigns the necessary detentions, deducts house points, and sends the miscreants back to bed.
He is a cruel man, true, but he is not a monster.
~*~
There is no joy in the hunt now. There is only desperation and fear. Desperation to find them first, to sneer at them, take the meaningless points they hold so dear, and show them safely back to bed. Fear that there will be yet another missing face at breakfast in the Great Hall, that he will miss one child. His only respite lies in the fact that Potter is no longer here. To have to face down that boy, with Lilly's eyes and that face- he does not think he could resist the call of anger, power, and pain in the current situation. But these children, these children he can save. If he can find them.
He has not fought back the monster inside all these years only to see these innocents fall victim now. He will save those he can.
~*~
It is Longbottom. Longbottom who eggs them on, Longbottom who continues this foolishness, Longbottom who will not bend, will not falter, will not surrender, Longbottom who lends them strength in Potter's stead. He would never have believed it.
The boy does not realize what he is doing. The boy must be stopped. Too many children, too many innocents, too much temptation… He will stop them. It must stop.
~*~
He stares down at the boy. Longbottom is trembling. Even after all the boy has been through, this one fear has not faded.
"You will stop, Longbottom. Or I will make you…" A fierce snarl twists his lips as he spits the words. It must stop.
"N-no." The boy stammers out, his voice lacking any real conviction.
"It will stop!" The boy shrinks back into his seat, flinching away in fear. Swollen hands bruised and broken from 'detention' with the Carrows, twitch slightly.
"No." The word is spoken so softly this time it is nearly missed. He can feel the fear radiating off the boy as his own fear and anger rises. He cannot beat it back this time, he cannot run from it. It surges through his body, crashing through his mind, tightens the muscles in his arms and neck, and he does not know he has raised his wand until the word comes spilling from his lips.
"CRUCIO!" There is a moment, a moment as Longbottom writhes in pain on the floor, spittle dripping from his mouth, only the whites of his eye showing, a moment that he feels joy. And then it vanishes with the spell and he is sick to his stomach and he wants nothing more than to take it back. Shockingly fast, Longbottom rolls away from him, scrabbling towards the corner. He mutters quietly as he curls himself into the corner, hands over his head, spine thin and trembling with each breath. Each sob.
"It must stop." Black robes swirl out of the room, rustling softy- just loud enough to hide the muffled "No."
~*~
The next day, he catches Michael Corner trying to sneak a first year out of detention. It stops.