{NOTE} As warning, I am not going to follow the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire timeline.
I don't know when I'll be updating next. School is starting.
Chapter Twenty One
It was rather silly of him, but he did it anyway.
He avoided both Tom Riddle and thinking of their status as mates like the plague. Considering Izar had successfully avoided Riddle for a good month, Izar considered he was getting rather good at avoiding. Unless, Riddle found his actions amusing and decided to humor Izar.
In the Great Hall, if the politicians were present during a meal, Izar kept his eyes firmly on his plate or on whomever he was speaking to during the time. Usually Daphne. She was thrilled with his sudden involvement in her conversations and Draco was often seen sneering at her exuberance. Izar rarely sat at the Ravenclaw table. The times he did sit at his table, he avoided the classmates who had mocked him earlier in the year about moving up a grade. Boot especially.
He supposed he was holding grudges… he didn't really care.
Classes were going smoothly, more than smoothly. He was bored beyond what was healthy. He passed his exams with full marks, the same with his essays and assignments. In his free time, he studied magic. He had invented a few spells already, but he wanted to extend his list of invented hexes and charms. The process to create a spell wasn't as simple as coming up with a Latin phrase. No, one needed to nurture the magic and birth it. It was a long process, one that Izar found himself capable of putting himself through during the schooldays.
There was one spell, in particular, that he was working on. It had taken him a full three weeks, every night for two hours, before he successfully constructed it. He had yet to try it on his enemies and he was a bit leery. It was his most dangerous one so far.
But he had confidence.
Every night, in the safety of his bed curtains, he would take out the brother to Voldemort's wand and stare at it. He didn't dare experiment on his Dark Mark here, at the school. A few weeks ago, Izar had probed the Dark Mark with his newly acquainted wand. He knew then, that there were barriers around the Mark, barriers that consisted of the Darkest of magic. He would need to experiment with the Mark during Christmas holidays in a place that all but embraced the Dark Arts.
Which, apparently, he would be spending the holiday at the Malfoy Manor. According to Regulus, at least.
His father wrote to him, explaining that Narcissa and Lucius would like to have both of them over for the holidays. Supposedly, several Death Eaters would also be staying at the Malfoy Manor for a few nights. It was somewhat of a tradition, apparently.
Izar wondered at Regulus' attendance. The man wasn't even an official Death Eater as of yet, let alone a first ranking one. Thankfully, both Narcissa and Lucius knew of Izar's parentage. There would not be any acting when it was just the Malfoy family around.
Despite having to deal with the Death Eaters, Izar was eager to manipulate the Dark Mark. He had the highest confidence. He also had an excitement he hadn't harbored in a long while. And admittedly, he also found himself looking forward to spending some time with Regulus.
"I'm not wearing these," Izar hissed out, taking one look at himself in the mirror before fleeing from the reflection. "I look like a bloody flop."
Draco snickered. The Malfoy heir was lying down on Izar's bed in the Ravenclaw Tower. His posture was relaxed as he buried his face in Izar's pillow to hide his laugh.
Both wizards were clothed in elegant dress robes. The Yule Ball was starting in a matter of minutes and Izar had yet to leave the tower. He knew what waited for him when he escaped the security of the Ravenclaw Common Room. An upset Daphne and a school full of hormonal teenagers, withheld from dancing because their Hogwarts Champion had yet to show up. Apparently, the three Champions had to open the start at the Yule Ball at eight o'clock.
Draco sat up, finally taking a good look at the robes. His face fell and he swallowed with what Izar thought was difficulty. "You look… good."
Izar's eyes narrowed into slits and his anger heightened. "You aren't supposed to agree with anything Daphne agrees on." The Greengrass heir had picked out his robes. Because Izar was a fool, he hadn't looked at them before she had ordered. In fact, she had even attempted to show them to him, but he brushed her away, not really caring about bloody robes.
And because of his mistake, he had to wear these to the Ball.
"You're right," Draco stood up, his hair just brushing the tops of his shoulders. "You look like a bloody flop."
Izar's lips thinned and he wondered how much trouble he would get into if he transfigured the robes black.
The Malfoy heir blinked before laughing again. This time, his laugh was cool and collected, a Malfoy-sort of laugh. "I honestly never thought you of all people would complain about your attire. Honestly, Izar, they look exactly like mine." Draco motioned toward his own robes. They were green and silver, not surprising Izar in the least. "You're just uncomfortable because you've never worn something that doesn't have rips and holes on it."
The boy was right, Izar had to concede. It wasn't necessary to get worked up over clothes, only witches and petty pure-bloods like Malfoy got uptight over their garments. His eyes swept the length of the expensive fabric. He supposed he was uncomfortable because they were so expensive and…well…noticeable. That was one thing he didn't enjoy being. Noticeable. The robes were form fitting, something Izar had to get used to as well.
And they were white and gold. Two colors he hadn't imagined himself wearing. They also happened to be the colors of the Greengrass family.
Before Izar could issue his own retort, the door to his room opened abruptly. The two students quickly turned to look at the man eyeing them in suspicion. Sirius. His uncle's eyes narrowed on Draco's proximity to Izar.
"What are you two doing in here?" The man questioned distrustfully as if he expected them to be rolling on the ground, naked.
Izar scoffed. The man had occasional bouts of insanity and lunacy. Even when Izar was in lessons with the man, Sirius would break off into a mysterious grin and comment on something completely off topic. But Izar couldn't complain. The many weeks and private lessons with his Auror uncle were paying off. He was getting quite skilled in the art, even taking down Sirius a couple times.
"Having hot, sweaty love, professor," Izar drawled dryly as he made his way casually to the door.
Sirius grimaced and Izar completely missed the redness creep up on Draco's neck. The older Black cleared his throat, reaching forward and guiding Izar out the room with a hand to his shoulder. "Well, at least you're quick about it." The man responded lightly, causing Izar to scowl. "Minerva is quite frantic she doesn't have her Champion down there to start the Ball. Nice robes by the way." The man said in all seriousness.
Behind them, Draco snickered. Izar ignored him in favor of staring at Daphne as soon as he exited the Ravenclaw Tower.
She was waiting outside the Ravenclaw Common Rooms, looking exasperated but also…
"You look gorgeous," Izar spoke truthfully. He wasn't like the other wizards who stuttered out their compliments to their date. Perhaps it was because he was, supposedly, gay. But looking at Daphne, Izar wondered who the hell Tom Riddle was.
Daphne was an incredibly short witch, even shorter than Izar. But her body didn't look awkwardly proportioned with a gown. Instead, it flattered her. It was black with a few gold accents across her waist and her straps were made of tiny gold pearls. Her short blond hair was curled into a sort of messy updo with a gold headband accenting the color of her hair.
She smiled, her irritation dissolving when she caught sight of him. Daphne wasn't known for wearing a lot of makeup and tonight, she only accented her features, making her look classical and… stunning.
"I could say the same about you," she teased before sighing. "Your hair. You couldn't have done anything with it, Izar?"
What did she expect him to do with it? Put a bloody headband in it like hers? "I washed it," he replied grumpily.
Flashing him a look, Daphne grabbed his arm. He noted her nails were painted a toxic crimson her toxic crimson. They looked sharp and they felt sharp as she pulled his head down to run her fingers through his scalp. "I change my mind. It always looks adorable with the random curls and waves."
Izar forced himself not to flush when Sirius stalked past, laughing at his misfortune. "Daphne," he scolded, pushing her hands away and taking her arm. He paused when he noticed her bare forearm. "How…"
"Makeup, silly, all the girls use concealer to cover it."
Further up ahead, Izar caught sight of Draco reluctantly taking hold of Pansy Parkinson's arm, his expression nothing short of misery. Pansy also had a bare arm. Izar pondered. Concealing charms didn't work very well on the Dark Mark. It was if the Dark Lord made it so the Concealing Charm just absorbed right into the Mark. Perhaps he should get a bottle of concealer from Daphne. At least until he manipulated the Mark successfully.
He quickly dropped that idea when he thought of his dorm mates seeing makeup in his possession.
"I hope you've been taking your dancing lessons these past two weeks," Daphne warned darkly. Her expression spoke of pain if he displeased her. "If you make a fool out of me, Harrison, you'll get this heel up your arse by the end of tonight."
She had heels on, Izar noted distastefully. With heels on, she was about eyelevel with him.
"I'm afraid I didn't have time to take the lessons," Izar lied skillfully.
The Ravenclaws had offered lessons to anyone interested. And Izar had reluctantly signed up for a few. He had never danced before but as he practiced, he found himself adapting to the art easily. He blamed it on the Black genes, after centuries of dancing in the family; Izar would most likely inherit some of their skills. In addition, he found dancing a fluid and graceful art, something he'd always excelled at.
She looked up at him, bothered. "You're not serious?"
Before Izar could respond, a frantic McGonagall came swooping over to him, taking him by the shoulder. She was surprisingly strong for an older woman. "Mr. Harrison, you're late," she replied tartly as if he hadn't already known.
Ahead, the hall was empty save for the two other Champions and their dates. Lukas cast a cool stare at him before facing forward, his arm entwined with his Durmstrang date. Cyprien offered a small, amused smile before quietly speaking to his date in French. The Great Hall was full of fourth year students and up, just waiting for them to start the Yule Ball.
Izar thought it was oddly amusing. Perhaps he should have stalled a bit longer…
"Off you go," McGonagall ushered Lukas inside and the rest followed.
The hall was decorated in a winter wonderland. Enchanted snow fell from the ceiling, only to disappear before they reached the cohabitants' heads. Izar was used to seeing the tall Christmas tree in the Great Hall. But every year, he was amazed by the sheer size of it. It appeared as if every inch was covered with a glittery ordainment or a soft flamed candle. During study hall, he always watched the students group together and help Professor Flitwick organize the decorations.
Izar ignored the students on either side of him as he escorted Daphne down the aisle. Polite clapping resonated off the hall's walls, a small and meaningless way to celebrate the Champions. Up ahead, Izar tried to avoid the sight of the professors and politicians. Tonight, Izar knew he probably wouldn't be able to avoid Undersecretary Tom Riddle, but he would try his damnest.
Daphne and Izar finally reached the dance floor. She was nervous, he noted. She tried to hide it behind a smile, but Izar could see the strain in her eyes.
Izar placed his hand on her hip and curled his other hand in hers. "You're nervous I'm going to step on your feet, aren't you?" he whispered gleefully. "I probably will, sorry in advance." He wondered if she was regretting her decision to accompany him to the ball yet. He enjoyed torturing her like this, especially such a silly topic.
Above her head, he eyed Severus Snape. The man was standing stiffly among his coworkers, a perfect scowl twisting his lips. Izar chuckled. The man looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.
Onyx eyes met his and the scowl softened to some extent. Izar couldn't help but to idolize the potions professor. He saw many similarities between himself and the man, especially their childhoods and days at Hogwarts. Izar knew the man was proficient in the Dark Arts and he also knew Snape created spells. Creating spells wasn't easy. It resulted in many deaths and injury. Only wizards who showed in depth knowledge in magic and Latin succeeded.
Izar made a mental note to give the professor's notes back on the Dark Mark.
He snapped out of his musings when the music began. Daphne was all but shaking in his arms as he swirled them gracefully on the dance floor, perfectly in sync with the music. He couldn't help but to grin at her startled look.
"You bastard," she scowled lightly. "You can dance. Who would have thought the socially awkward Izar Harrison could dance like any other wizard?"
"Of course," Izar drawled. "You wouldn't truly think that I would humiliate the both of us, do you?" He scoffed mockingly. "To think of humiliating the heir of Greengrass family… it would be simply outrageous."
She was silent for a moment, her face reflecting her excitement at his behavior. "You're smiling." Her painted lips creased into her own smile.
"Am I?" Izar contemplated sweetly before twirling them away from Lukas and his date. The Durmstrang boy glowered at Izar over the top of his date's head. It should have bothered Izar that he was the spotlight for so many eyes, but he found himself oddly calm tonight. Even his robes were becoming less of an obstacle to get over.
"People might start to wonder if you took something before the dance. You never smile. For all I know, you could be Professor Snape's long-lost son. At least, that's the rumor going around." She laughed lightly, not realizing how close she was to coming to the truth. "Did you take something, Izar? Knowing you, you snuck a wild mushroom in your dorm to settle your nerves at being center of attention."
"Where do you come up with these things?"
The students and professors slowly entered onto the dance floor. It soon began to grow too crowded to practice formal dancing, so Izar was forced to dance with Daphne slowly, in small steps. Next to him, he saw Dumbledore and McGonagall pass. He couldn't help but to stare horrifyingly at the Headmaster's robes. Small gingerbread men danced at the hems and blistering snow changed his robes from blue to white.
The man caught him staring and winked. "Would you like the name of my tailor, my boy?" McGonagall rolled her eyes upwards, sweeping the older man away before Izar had a chance to reply.
Thank Merlin.
Daphne placed her arms around Izar's neck, forcing him to put his hands on her waist. Her eyes were averted away from Izar and toward her sister. Izar knew Daphne harbored a bit of jealousy toward her younger sister, yet he also knew she loved Astoria deeply. It was an odd relationship, but one Izar knew all about from Daphne's inconsequential mutterings.
"You have no reason to be jealous," Izar consoled her.
Mossy green eyes shot to Izar, a light blush on her cheeks for getting caught staring. "I'm not jealous, Izar. She's my sister." Her eyes shuffled back toward Astoria. "Do you think she's pretty?"
Izar gave a mental sigh, wondering why the hell he had to be having this petty conversation. Nonetheless, he supposed inflating Daphne's ego was a very important conversation to the Greengrass heir. Reluctantly, he looked at the youngest Greengrass. Astoria looked remarkably like Daphne. He didn't understand why the girl in his arms was so insecure. "Truthfully?" Izar asked, turning back to Daphne. The girl nodded sharply. "You're more beautiful."
She gazed at him suspiciously before smiling softly. "Thank you."
He spun them so he was facing the crowd. His eyes were attracted to Filch, the Squib caretaker. The man was holding his cat up to his chest, extending one of the poor animal's arms out in a small waltz-like pose. The man hummed the music, rocking his hips to the beat. Izar's eyes took in the man behind Filch, cursing himself at his slip. Riddle stood next to both Filch and Snape, his eyes directed on Izar.
Izar couldn't distinguish any emotion coming from the man. None at all.
"That's Airi Roux, Minister Roux's most recent wife. Apparently, they got engaged just a few months ago. She works at the apothecary in France near the Ministry of Magic. From what daddy says, she can give Snape a run for his money." Izar tore his eyes away from Riddle and toward the woman Daphne was speaking of.
The French Minister, Serge Roux, was dancing with a tall Asian woman. She looked several years his junior with a curtain of thick black hair down her back. With heels, she was at least a foot taller than Serge. The Minister smiled thinly at his wife, his eyes hidden behind the thick frames on his face.
"Married for money?" Izar questioned.
"No," Daphne shook her head. "Surprisingly not. Minister Roux's first wife, his son's mother, divorced him just weeks before Roux proposed to Airi. It's rumored that Minister Roux was having an affair with Airi when he was still married to his wife. She's also the daughter to a very influential man in France. Her mother was Asian and her father was French. A very beautiful couple, and Airi is the product of their joining."
Izar gave a laugh. "Where do hear all this?"
Daphne gave a secretive smile. "If you danced correctly, like I do, you'll hear all these secrets."
"Or rumors," Izar muttered lightly.
"And that is the gorgeous Kristine Steinar, Minister Steinar's wife." He was turned by Daphne's hands to stare at Lukas' mother.
Daphne had been correct in labeling Mrs. Steinar as gorgeous. She was tall and blond with very distinct features. Despite the fact that Lukas had inherited his father's black hair, he inherited his appearance from his mother. Both Kristine and Bjørn were a handsome couple, robed with the finest fabric and the optimum jewels.
"Any gossip about her?" Izar inquired, amused.
Daphne seemed to hold a liking to Kristine, for she glowered at Izar. "No, only, she's a very hardcore politic like her husband. She's very competitive and enjoys finding out everything she can about her enemies and exploiting them. She cheated out Bjørn's intended wife for his hand in marriage. His original fiancé died of food poisoning." Daphne grinned gleefully. "She's my idol. Every woman should be just as dangerous."
Izar felt himself grin despite himself. Daphne had no reason to yearn to become like Kristine Steinar because Izar was sure she would turn out to be quite the conniver.
"If you must know," Daphne continued. "My father was the one who told me about the foreigners. He's expressed an interest in meeting you, Izar." Through her black lashes she gazed up at him hopefully. "Malfoy tells me his father invited you to the manor this Christmas. Tell me you've accepted?"
"I have," Izar gave a nod. "And I suppose you want me to meet your father?"
He didn't know much about Mr. Greengrass, only he was one of Voldemort's first ranking Death Eaters. And Daphne was smitten with him. She was, in all terms, a 'daddy's little girl'. "Naturally," Daphne smiled.
The slow music came to a slow finish before a more upbeat song began. Izar paled, horrified. Daphne, sensing Izar's immobility, sighed before pulling him off the dance floor. "I'm thirsty," she batted her lashes at him. Izar noticed she turned her back on an approaching male. He smirked, wondering if Daphne really was thirsty or if she didn't want to deal with the courageous Hufflepuff coming to ask her for a dance.
A young Gryffindor student, assigned to serve drinks, handed them a requested cup of punch. Daphne took hers and gulped it down greedily. Izar eyed the Gryffindor boy distastefully. The student looked a bit… off.
He brought his cup to his nose and sniffed at it hesitantly. Just as he thought, it was spiked with alcohol. Before he could confront the Gryffindor student, Daphne pulled him away by the arm, toward a secluded table. Izar looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindor boy, narrowing his eyes. Didn't the professors put a ward or spell over the liquids in order to stop hormonal teenagers from spiking the punch?
The Gryffindor boy showed absolutely no emotion as he stared back at Izar.
"Don't drink the punch—," Izar started as he turned back around. Daphne gazed up at him innocently, an empty cup in her hand. "Forget it," Izar sighed. He would make sure Daphne was accompanied properly back to her dorm without pubescent children groping her. One cup wouldn't hurt.
As soon as they sat down, Draco came striding over, his eyes all but crazed.
"Merlin," the boy started, sitting right between Daphne and Izar without invitation. "This is the worst sort of dance."
"I think it was the partner you brought with you," Izar murmured lightly. Above Draco's head, he watched Daphne shift away from the Malfoy heir. Her face spoke the words she couldn't. Izar wondered why the two were so against socializing with one another but thought it was a bit entertaining. It helped Izar if he wanted to escape one of their presences. All he had to do was mention Draco or Daphne to the other and they would close up.
"Parkinson," Draco spat, looking over his shoulder for good measure. "She's almost as bad as Greengrass…"
The boy went on complaining about the Parkinson girl. Izar tuned him out, as he did quite frequently. His eyes swept the darkened Hall, catching sight of Cyprien, the Beauxbatons Champion, arguing quietly with Lukas Steinar.
"I'm going to go dance, Izar. Are you going to join me?" Daphne questioned as she stood up abruptly. Her tone suggested she was minutes away from cursing Malfoy as the boy continued to rant about Pansy.
Izar shook his head, distracted as he watched Lukas grab Cyprien around the collar and quietly whisper to the redhead. To anyone else, it wouldn't look very threatening, only casual. But Izar sat forward, interested.
Cyprien sighed, pushing Lukas away before escaping the boy's presence and making his way over toward Izar.
"Izar," Cyprien greeted lightly as he made his way over. The Beauxbatons Champion sat down next to him before leaning over to whisper in his ear. "Don't drink the punch." His voice shook a bit, as if he were uncertain he should be telling him this.
Izar looked up at the table, reaching for his cup, only to find it gone. He frowned before quickly grasping Daphne's empty cup and sniffing it. It didn't stink of the alcohol he smelt earlier. It didn't stink like his cup had.
"Where is my cup?" He demanded toward Draco.
The Malfoy's cool grey eyes were suspiciously directed at Cyprien before turning to Izar. "Greengrass took it with her," he didn't say anymore, smart enough to realize there was something unfolding before his eyes.
Izar turned back to Cyprien. "Why?" He looked back to where Lukas was, finding the Durmstrang boy conveniently absent of his previous position. Charcoal-green eyes turned back to Cyprien, studying the boy's impassive expression. "Did someone spike it with alcohol?"
Cyprien scoffed lightly, his French accent strong. "Rumor has it; there was Vesania in your cup… "
Izar froze.
Vesania is a very potent leaf that disintegrates in liquids. It rapidly spreads through the body after multiplying in black goo in the stomach. The black toxic slime makes its way up to the brain before it destroys it. And rather conveniently, its scent takes a familiarity with that of faint alcohol.
His eyes flew open. "Daphne," Izar cried, standing up abruptly from his table, sending his chair clattering to the ground. The sound alerted many students and Izar rushed toward the dance floor. Behind him, he could hear Draco calling for the professors that were about to escape the hall.
"Professor Snape! Izar—,"
His heart was in his throat as he pushed a couple out of his way as they just stood there. They yelled as they fell to the floor, but Izar hardly noticed as he struggled to push himself through the thick crowd of dancing students. They were all laughing and moving, making Izar feel as if he were moving slowly through a terrible nightmare. His body got pushed and shoved and he struggled to withhold a scream of rage.
Instead, he shot his wand in the air, issuing an earsplitting bang.
The students all cried out, hands going to their ears. The music stopped playing and bodies stopped moving.
Izar pushed his way to the front, finally catching sight of Daphne. She stared at him unseeingly from a group of Slytherin girls before the cup slipped from her fingers. She reached blindly for her sister before collapsing heavily to the ground.
He was too late.
He was too bloody late.
Izar raced forward, his wand flicking toward the spilt drink, nonverbally setting it on fire. Screams issued through the crowd, both at the pool of fire and Daphne's sudden collapsed form. Astoria Greengrass had her hands to her mouth in shock as she kneeled next to her sister.
"What happened?"
Ignoring her desperate question, Izar pointed his wand at Daphne. "Eructo."
He dived to the floor the same moment the spell activated. His hands shook as he carefully maneuvered Daphne's head to the side as she began to forcibly vomit. Black goo was ejected out of her stomach in a steady heave. Izar was distinctively aware of the professors stopping before him, assessing the scene, but he was too focused on Daphne's shaking form to acknowledge them.
Izar cast the Eructo spell again, this time, nonverbal. Her stomach was forced to heave once more. The black goo was in fewer amounts this time, but still present.
Snape kneeled next to Izar, his wand out and tracing circles near Daphne's head. With the wand movements still continuing, his onyx eyes appraised Izar. "Very quick thinking on your behalf, Mr. Harrison, well done." Izar was too dazed at Daphne's sudden attack to respond coherently. He just settled for a sharp nod. "She needs to go to the Hospital Wing, quickly. There may be more in her system." Snape spoke to Dumbledore this time.
The man levitated Daphne's body after finishing the spell to her head.
Strong hands grabbed him and hauled him up off the floor. "Are you alright, Izar?" It was Sirius, holding him up firmly.
Ignoring his uncle, Izar's cold charcoal-green eyes watched as Snape and Dumbledore raced off to the Hospital Wing with Daphne in tow. He then began searching the hall for him.
Lukas snuck outside the hall, catching Izar's eyes before disappearing around the corner.
Izar's shock was replaced with rage as he tore from Sirius' grasp and ran after the Durmstrang boy. He found it easy and quicker when he ran after Steinar than he found it searching for Daphne. Perhaps it was because rage made things quick, too quickly for him to grasp. And fear and desperation made things go by painfully slow.
The students he left behind in the Hall were gossiping quite loudly, exclaiming amongst each other. He didn't find he cared what they thought. Just as long as he got his revenge.
Further down the corridor, Lukas' frosty blue eyes widened when he caught sight of Izar's pursuit. "Du er gal!" The boy shouted in Norwegian before sprinting around a corner. He had his wand out and determination had crossed his handsome features. And yet, he did not stop to defend himself. He ran. He was guilty.
"You haven't seen insane yet, Steinar," Izar hissed, racing through the maze of the dark corridors, waiting to cast until he got a good shot at Lukas' running form.
He didn't make it that far.
As he ran down the halls of Hogwarts, far from the Great Hall, arms quickly shot out and enclosed around his waist, lifting him cleanly off the ground. Izar struggled, the thirst for revenge on the tip of his tongue. He couldn't stop now. But despite the thinness of the arms, they were too strong to break through. "You will do something you regret, stop this foolishness."
It was Riddle.
And in a red-haze, Izar pointed the tip of his wand to Riddle's neck as he twisted around.
The pure threat that entered Riddle's eyes at the touch of Izar's wand made the Ravenclaw slowly come back to this world. Fear in the pit of his stomach. "Child…" Riddle purred dangerously. "Try it if you so wish to. You may be favored, by you are not that favored."
Izar deflated, his body hanging limply from Riddle's hold. He slowly pulled back his wand, pointing it down at the floor, away from the Dark Lord. "I apologize," Izar said stiffly. Briefly, he wondered if any of the other Death Eaters lived to tell their story of pointing their wand directly at the Dark Lord's neck. Probably not.
The younger wizard was set down on the ground, but the hand on his shoulder assured Izar that he wouldn't be moving anytime soon. As he was grounded in reality, his sharp mind finally came into play. It was rather stupid of him to fly down the halls of corridors, revenge on his mind. It was too brash and public. And there was also that small voice in the back of his head that pointed out Lukas could be innocent in this whole situation. He didn't know all the facts yet.
Patience. It was a virtue.
"You aren't known for your temper," Riddle contemplated next to him. His fingers dug into Izar's shoulder as the two slowly walked back to the main parts of the castle. Behind them, Lukas was gone, either rushing deeper into the depths of Hogwarts or making a turn to get back to the main parts. "In fact, I have noted your cool head during situations most wizards would snap from. Please enlighten me why this situation is so different?"
He stopped, causing the Dark Lord to pause as well. "That cup was meant for me. Daphne… she could have died. That's what made it different." Izar didn't understand what Riddle was hinting at. How could the man not realize what was so important about this situation?
"Tell me," Riddle leaned closer, his eyes purely mocking. "Do you love her?"
Izar pulled back, angry at both himself and Riddle. This situation callously reminded him that the Dark Lord didn't care about his followers and Daphne. The Dark Lord's followers were just pawns and puppets. Mere items of amusement. Izar had known that. Why did he assume Voldemort had all of a sudden gone soft for Daphne and this situation? Just because Izar held Daphne in higher regards then most people, didn't mean the Dark Lord did.
He was foolish.
His head bowed as he tried to control himself. He would receive no pity from Riddle tonight. Not that Izar wanted nor needed pity, but an understanding for his flash for revenge would have been pleasant.
"No," Izar lifted his chin, staring at the Dark Lord in the eye. "I don't love her." He spoke truthfully, coldly.
But tonight's events made Izar realize that he did care for Daphne, albeit just a bit. It was true that she talked his ear off at times. She annoyed him with her lack of interest in learning and reading. Her feminine practices always repulsed him. However, she was also amusing and she wasn't self-centered like most the children here. She understood duty and family. And she was also innocent in this attack.
Riddle gave a lipless smile before straightening up. An odd glint entered the man's eyes and Izar was reminded with the fact that Riddle knew about the Tournament's doing.
"Do you know who did this?" Izar demanded softly, his voice echoing just faintly in the dark, empty corridor.
The tall man cocked his head. "I have my suspicions," he spoke darkly before walking down the corridor again.
"Who?" Izar asked calmly. Instead, he was cursing the Dark Lord. Just by the way the man held himself, Izar had a feeling Voldemort knew exactly who was behind all this. He was just keeping it to himself, watching it all unfold before he attacked with his own scheme.
"The same one that poisoned you in the First Task."
"If I'm not mistaken," Izar drawled, eyes narrowing. "Your answer is not a question to my 'who', but rather another mystifying counter."
As they reached the main entrance, Izar quickly blended in with the sea of students. He left Riddle behind, not at all caring how disrespectful it was. He was angry with the man. Voldemort knew something going on beneath the scenes and he wouldn't enlighten Izar. If he needed anymore persuasion that things would be the same between himself and Voldemort after finding out their mate status, all he needed to do was look at this situation.
Voldemort treated him no different.
It was both a blessing and a curse at times.
Izar cut through the sea of students and made his way down the corridor that would lead him to the Hospital Wing. How could Voldemort know who was behind the attacks and not tell Izar? Unless…
He stumbled as he walked, but continued on. What if Dumbledore and Steinar had been right earlier on this year? What if Voldemort was behind these attacks, in order to assure the Norwegians and French did not win this Tournament? It sounded petty, and extremely unrealistic, but Voldemort was vicious enough to go through with it. But why would he put Izar at risk if he was his mate? It didn't make any sense at all.
He felt knot twist his stomach when he thought of an explanation. What if everything as of late had been a lie? There was a possibility that Voldemort had known Izar had been Regulus' bastard child at the Ministry Ball this summer. And that's when the scheme started. Voldemort had fed Izar the lie about being mates, only for Izar to put a semi-balance of trust in the Dark Lord. Meanwhile, Riddle was planning on destroying Regulus by killing Izar in the Tournament. All the while, framing the Norwegians and possibly the French, to ensure Britain's 'win'.
Izar knew it was outrageous. But it was a plan he could see Riddle creating. It played with everybody's emotions and trust and it was remarkably well thought out, until the last detail.
Izar couldn't and wouldn't believe it. He knew it wasn't the Dark Lord who was behind these attacks.
But it still left a sour taste in his mouth. And his stomach.
"Mr. Harrison," Dumbledore called further down the corridor. He had a few students surrounding him; Lukas Steinar, Cyprien Beaumont, and that young Gryffindor who was handing out the cups of punch.
"This is Mr. Colin Creevey, a fifth year Gryffindor," Dumbledore started, placing his hand on the shaken boy.
The group was standing in front of the closed doors of the Hospital Wing. Izar shied away from Riddle as the man came striding behind him. He ignored the curious look he received from the man and instead surveyed Creevey. He distinctively remembered Colin from his lessons when he was in the lower grade levels. The boy was a Mudblood, and as annoying as Granger herself.
His sharp eyes took in the boy's pale face and trembling body. The mere emotion in the boy's eyes was a far cry to the impassive one's he saw at the dance. "The Imperius Curse," Izar whispered. "He was under the Imperius, wasn't he, Headmaster?" He came to a stop near the group, eyeing the closed doors leading into the Hospital Wing.
"He was," Dumbledore replied solemnly. He looked at Riddle over his glasses and then proceeded to observe Minister Steinar as the man stalked forward. "Apparently, someone placed Mr. Creevey under the Imperius. Mr. Steinar here," Dumbledore nodded toward the quiet Durmstrang boy. Lukas kept his eyes trailed on Izar. "Claimed he had seen Mr. Creevey crush the leaves of the Vesania in your cup and proceed to give it to you."
Izar sighed softly, looking down the long, dark corridor before turning a cold stare on Lukas. "Why didn't you tell me yourself, then?" he demanded sharply.
Before Dumbledore could reply, Lukas interjected. "I didn't really care about you. I suppose my morals won out in the end. I told Beaumont to tell you. After all, you'd believe him more than you would myself. He argued, exclaiming he didn't want to get involved in a mere prank. But he eventually told you. A few seconds too late." Here, frosty eyes turned to a guilty Cyprien.
The redhead scowled, turning to Izar. "I have no reason to trust Steinar. Had I known there really was Vesania in your drink, I wouldn't have put up a struggle."
Izar nodded sharply. He wondered, briefly, if they were speaking the truth. "Do you have any idea who is behind it?" Izar asked numbly. "Or…" Izar started spitefully, looking at Minister Steinar. "Do you somehow think I was the one to curse Creevey and poison myself again? I suppose you'll find another book in Lukas' belongings that has the Vesania text circled. And in turn, you will proceed to find the Vesania leaves in my book bag."
Steinar lifted his lip. "It's very plausible."
Dumbledore held up a hand, his magic growing. "That is enough." Sharp blue eyes no longer twinkled and the gingerbread men on his robes ran inside their home to hide. "I had no intention to put the blame on you, Mr. Harrison. I do not believe you are behind these attacks." Dumbledore took a step closer to Izar. His eyes were all but glowing. "These attacks are becoming far too bold. They have put other students in danger, in my own school. I will not allow anymore harm to come to my students." Dumbledore looked at Minister Steinar and Riddle. "That is a promise."
Izar sat down on the chairs outside the Hospital Wing.
"All of you are dismissed, go," Dumbledore shooed everyone with a wave of his hand. "Mr. Creevey, you should go to Madame Promfrey for examination. Perhaps a night in the Hospital Wing will do you some good."
The Champions soon left and the politicians reluctantly followed. Riddle was the last to leave. Izar completely ignored the man in favor of staring at the closed doors to the Hospital Wing. Even though he wasn't looking at the Dark Lord, he was consciously aware of everything the man did. Riddle issued a low chuckle before walking away. It made Izar's skin tingle with the mere promise that this wasn't over.
Surprisingly, Dumbledore sat next to him, patting his knee.
Izar turned, studying the man. "I think Ms. Greengrass will recover nicely, Mr. Harrison."
He watched a few gingerbread men peek out from their home before slowly beginning to dance once more. "I know," Izar attempted a grin. "She can be rather stubborn at times."
The two lapsed into silence. Dumbledore kept glancing down the darkened corridor as if he knew someone was hovering close by. Izar wouldn't be surprised if Riddle was nearby. The man was rather overprotective of him whenever Dumbledore was close. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Mr. Harrison?" Dumbledore questioned softly. The tone he used on Izar was that of a sorrowful grandfather.
Charcoal-green eyes turned, studying the inviting expression across the old man's features. Was this how his mother was manipulated? Did she want to trust Dumbledore with her secrets, hoping he would help her and guide her? Izar briefly wondered who would be the cruelest manipulator.
Would it be Voldemort, the Dark Lord who was rather sinister and sneaky at his manipulations? Whenever the Dark Lord manipulated, his victim realized it after the proceedings were complete. And when Voldemort's victim finally came to the realization that they had been manipulated, they would feel the wash of overwhelming devastation and grief.
Or would it be Dumbledore, an old man whose manipulations were silent and undetected? His voice would lull a sense of comfort and security but they were laced with manipulations. He snared his victims by being friendly. And if his victim were to believe they were being fooled, Dumbledore would look hurt and give every good excuse why they weren't being played. After all, how could someone as good and holly be so cruel? It was all for the greater good. The greater good of the Light.
"No, there is nothing," Izar shook his head. "If there was, I would be sure to tell you, Headmaster."
The man's glasses glittered from the torch's flame as he smiled. Before he could respond, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened.
Izar stood up, watching as Snape exited the Wing. The man looked between Dumbledore and Izar, his lips thinning. "How is she?" Izar questioned after Daphne.
"Stable," Snape replied coolly. "She's in a self-healing coma. Her brain is trying to recover from the shock and touch of the Vesania. Her father and sister are inside with her." Snape paused, his eyes sweeping the length of Izar. "As I told them, you were rather quick and intelligent to extract the poison from her stomach before it could reach her bloodstream. Good work, Mr. Harrison."
Izar looked down, relieved. "Thank you, professor."
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore nodded gratefully. "You do the school a great service."
Snape didn't reply. He only gave a sharp nod before gliding down to the dungeons. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Harrison." An old, wrinkled hand patted his shoulder before the Headmaster swept inside the Hospital Wing, no doubt to reassure Mr. Greengrass that everything was being 'looked after'.
Taking one last look at the closed doors, Izar slowly made his way to the Ravenclaw Common Rooms. He felt better. There was a chance Daphne wouldn't wake up normal, yes, but Snape had reassured Izar that he had gotten the majority out of her stomach before it could spread.
Right before the staircases, the torches flickered out, dosing him in the dark. Izar quickly turned when he thought he saw a figure nearby. The air felt like Riddle's magic and his shoulders grew stiff as he felt the powerful eyes on him.
"I will see you during the holidays, Mr. Black." The man whispered in his ear before cold lips brushed the sensitive skin of his neck.
Izar turned toward the man, intent to demand the man's motives.
But there was no one there.