Chapter One
Damn.
He was kneeling waist high in the thickest, blackest, and trickiest patch of tar he had ever found himself in. It was a bit of a tight spot—to say the least. His wand lay ten yards away from him, almost mocking his predicament. Not to mention the coagulating, hissing bubbles popping around him were really quite an irritant. There was no way he could pull himself out of it and struggling just seemed to worsen the situation.
He had never had a school lesson like this before. When Ryame was at Beauxbatons, he was at the top of his class, the best at everything; but this damned werewolf was challenging even his natural talents.
Ryame certainly did not like it at this new school. He was pleased to have been placed in the Slytherin house, but things were so different. True, he sustained instant popularity the moment he stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express, gaining the company of what seemed like a zealous group of arses. Just his type. Not to mention that Brown girl hadn't stopped making eyes at him since they met in the Great Hall. But who could blame her?
At 187cm, the French native had a slender but sturdy build (which made him a spectacular Quidditch player), long legs, fair skin, and short curly strawberry blond hair. But perhaps the most curious trait gracing the boy's waif frame were his eyes. While one shone an eerily crystal blue, the other was an endless pool of black. Ryame could occasionally, and rather mysteriously, make their shine noticeably less apparent if he so chose. However, when he felt so inclined, he could intimidate even the most sadistic of his fellow Death Eaters with a single glance. Of course, that was a whole other matter entirely.
Shaking himself out of his musings, Ryame again began to focus on the situation at hand. Concentrating with his eyes slightly parted, he focused on getting himself out of this irritating illusion. Slowly, he began to see a vague outline of the castle on the horizon, then an even more vivid picture of the Forbidden Forest. Now all that was left to do was perform the incantation he had surpassed during last night's "training session."
He placidly spoke the idiom, "Accio wand!" and held out his right hand is it flew towards him. Quick as a striking viper, he switched the oaken shoot to his left and just as tranquilly whispered, "Reversi Montipero!" In a flash, Lupin replaced Ryame on the ground, twitching as he drifted in and out of consciousness, now experiencing the same enchanted vision Ryame had just escaped.
He watched a moment with subtle amusement before lifting the curse and sighing charmingly. Lupin's eyes flashed open as he jumped up from the ground, brushing himself off. There were many scattered whispers of awe and amazement mixed with spouts of applause. Most everyone wondered just where this seventeen-year-old prodigy came from. Surely he couldn't have just apparated into the world of the living? Ryame gave a sickeningly modest smile before walking back to his place at Draco's side.
"Bravo," the gray-eyed boy muttered, "you did better at training last night."
"Didn't want to be too blatantly superior," Ryame replied with a wink, "I don't always have to be the best by a landslide you know, it gets boring." Draco scoffed.
"Very well done, Bertrand. Either you pick up quite easily or you've done performed Montipero before." Lupin studied him approvingly as he spoke, his eyes gentle.
Ryame replied with a dashing smile filled to the brim with his version of sincerity, hypnotic to any not immune to his charm: "I just try my best, Sir."
"Well, either way, brilliant job. Ten points to Slytherin. Now, who wants to try next?"
There were a few half-hearted hands raised by hesitant volunteers as Ryame, Draco and his cronies all separated themselves from the group, Ryame going to rest beneath a willow. He watched the group casually as Hufflepuffs and Slytherins alike struggled in performing this mundane bit of magic. Growing bored, he began to charm branches into battling each other to the death…or something equivalent for sticks.
The group sat in heavy silence for a time before Draco finally attempted to break it. "What do you think about the place? Boring, just like I said, isn't it?" He smirked, running a hand through his slicked back white-blond hair. Ryame shrugged indifferently. "Anyone I might fancy meeting?" He met Draco's eyes as he loosened his tie, smiling coyly. But Draco knew where he was going with this and did his part; "Oh, you know, Mudbloods are good for a laugh, but there aren't too many quality women around here. Especially now the place has gone to shite."
Ryame thought about that for a moment before continuing. "What about that Brown girl…Lily, Lilac, something or other…anything worth sampling there?"
"I wouldn't even get close to that, mate, much too "Gryffindor" for my liking." Crabb and Goyle chuckled mindlessly and Ryame rolled his eyes. Changing the subject, Draco asked "So, are you coming to training tonight?"
"Don't think I'm going to be able to make it this evening," Ryame spoke nonchalantly, forcing the sparring shoots to gnaw at one another. Draco snorted. "Lucky bugger. He favors you, you know. Any of the other Reversi Sadists miss even one meeting and they're scorned until their ears bleed. But oh no! When the all-mighty Ryame-" Draco did a mock bow "Feels that he doesn't need to grace us with his presence, the Dark Lord nearly sends out a page to check on him!" He caught Ryame's eye and they both broke out in laughter.
After another more comfortable pause, Draco continued, his voice taking a more somber tone. "What is it about you—other than those damned eyes—that has everyone so out of their head? You're cocky, crass, ruthless, charming, brilliant, dangerously evil and oh so mysterious; yet you seem like the most…I don't know, unfathomable person I know. There's something very different about you—always so secretive, elusive." He laughed to himself. "It's almost like you aren't human!"
Ryame looked at the twigs as he laughed with the others. He opened his mouth to speak only to have the ring of the bell silence him. The class began to walk back up to the castle, Hufflepuffs going one way, Slytherins another.
Potions was one of Ryame's least favorite classes. Not that he was poor at it (he had top marks out of all the seventh years), but rather the fact that Snape taught it. Draco worshiped the man and usually practiced with him during training sessions. But Ryame didn't trust him. He was very chummy-chummy with Lupin, and he knew all about their little secret society, the "Order of the Phoenix." Of course, that had all gone to shreds since the alleged assassination of Albus Dumbledore, preceding headmaster of Hogwarts, in the astronomy tower earlier this year.
Ryame was only two weeks into his first year at Hogwarts and already he knew all about the happenings of Draco's fifth and sixth years. Naturally, he had heard in France of the Dark Lord's ascension to power--that being the contributing factor in his moving here in the first place. Well, that, and his little secret.