He transformed back, shocking his mother long enough to disarm her. Eyes flashing with a dark emotion that, for once, wasn't entirely due to her presence, he forced her bodily up the stairs with a knife at her throat and another at her throat, into the bathroom. She was crying, her tears mingling with the blood on one of his hands, and when he shoved her, she collapsed against the side of the tub, hands going to her head where they'd hit the porcelain.
It seemed like forever to him before the tub was filled enough, and then he forced her into it, under the water, holding her head down. Then the flashbacks started, remembering how she'd done the same to his sister, just a helpless toddler. He'd found her like that, and she'd burst into flames; he'd fished his sister's lifeless body out of the tub while the scent of burning skin and hair filled the room.
He came out of that daze to find that his mother was dead, it was over, and the house was burning down around his ears. He couldn't tell whether the pain in his body was from falling down the stairs or from before, when he'd ached at the look on Ella's face, but he couldn't stop to figure it out now. Normally he could control the fires he set by accident, to some extent; he could keep them from burning him, at any rate. But he knew, instinctively, that this fire was completely out of his control, that it would take him down too, if he let it.
Which was, of course, impossible. Giving up, giving in, those words weren't in his vocabulary. He might not feel victorious, but he was in control of his own damn destiny, and he was not dying right here, not right now. Summoning strength from a deep, deep reserve, he Apparated away, landing right in front of Ella's door.
He hadn't even intended to come here, not yet. She'd popped into his mind just before he turned on the spot in his parents' house, and now he was here. He leaned against the door, tried to get in, needing to sit down before he collapsed, and was almost surprised to find that she hadn't warded it against him. But she also wasn't there.
He cursed aloud and Apparated again, back to his own flat, but she wasn't there either. He was at a loss for what to do for a moment, but then he returned to the tavern and brought the body back to his flat, putting it in the garbage outside and covering it. Later, he'd come back and burn it - non-magically, if he had to, since it felt like the fire at his parents' house might be the last one he'd ever be able to start.
The only thing he could do then, even though he didn't want to, was to attend the hunt. He had to, to survive the day without incurring the wrath of the Dark Lord, and he was almost entirely positive that Ella would be doing the same.
He doubted it when he didn't see her there, though. There was a possibility that she was avoiding him, which he would very much prefer to the possibility of something much worse. But she couldn't do that forever, he wouldn't let her. He'd find her, come hell or high water.
Though tonight, he was very much hoping that she would end up back at her flat at some point. He stopped in briefly to set an alarm on his flat to alert him if she went there instead, then Apparated back to her flat.
Vaguely, he reflected that he probably looked like hell (he felt worse), smelled like a combination of smoke and blood, but he let himself into her flat anyway, fully intending to collapse there and stay the night even if she wasn't here. "Ella?"