Astor sat in a dark cave chained by his ankle to a mountainous spherical boulder. He had been there for longer than he could account for. The darkness and soundlessness of the room had broken his perception of time. His eye had healed well enough for him to see out of, though the room was too dark to make anything out; he had no idea how large the room was or where he might be in the castle. His body ached with fatigue and pain from the beatings the castle guards had given him. After a severe beating, he had blacked out, and when he woke, he was here in the middle of a pitch-black room tied to rock much larger than himself. The pain was nothing compared to his disappointment in failing his vendetta to kill the Lord of the castle, he had not anticipated another person would be with him. Who was the young man sitting by his side? Astor did not know, but he had defended the Lord, duelling wand to wand over his body until the castle guards had the chance to arrive. As he was led away, he heard Lord Albus's voice moaning in agony, asking for his sister. It was then Astor knew he had failed in his quest.