Edited March 2021
Big thanks to Cateria for translating some of the sentences in Norwegian. ;)
Part One, Chapter Fourteen
For the First Task, they were required to gather an aconite, a puffapod, one Ashwinder egg, a bubotuber, a hellebore, one toad stomach, three flobberworms, and lastly, the critical head of the runespoor.
Izar eyed the last request, his unease growing. While runespoor serpents were visually striking, they were also incredibly dangerous. The runespoor had three heads, one dreamer, the other planner, and lastly, the critical head. The latter was the one Izar had to worry about the most, being as it had the most poisonous venom.
"They'll treat you well," a voice murmured next to him.
Izar looked up and eyed the Dark Lord. Tom Riddle was dressed in navy blue robes with bronze accents today. He was clearly supporting Izar, yet it was subtle. One would have to look hard at Riddle to really comprehend the small signs of his robes. After all, Izar couldn't recall Riddle wearing anything but black, green, and silver.
"Treat me well?" Izar repeated in question.
Earlier, Izar had petulantly assured himself he wouldn't speak with the man until he found out what the ring on his finger meant. However, such promises were difficult to keep if the Dark Lord approached him.
"The serpents," Riddle concluded lazily. He stood close to Izar, yet he faced the others in the tent.
Lukas, Karkaroff, and Bjørn were huddled in a small circle, whispering to one another over the list of items. It would only be a matter of minutes before Dumbledore approached the tent again, gathering Lukas for his turn to enter the forest. They seemed fretful, whispering heatedly with one another. Their eyes kept dancing across the tent at a smug-looking Riddle.
"Han er en ormmunn, far," Lukas whispered in Norwegian before glancing unhappily at Riddle. "Han manipulerte ganske sikkert turneringen for å sikre sine egne interesser."
Headmaster Karkaroff stayed oddly quiet. Izar noticed he avoided looking in Riddle's direction, and his body was positioned slightly away from Lukas and Bjørn.
"Ta det med ro, Lukas, han og hans representant skal få det de fortjener." Bjørn smiled thinly at Izar before ushering his son toward the tent's entrance. "Gutten er bare femten. Selv om han er smart så har han ikke en sjanse stilt opp mot ordentlig erfaring. Gutten er ingen ordentlig trollmann."
Riddle straightened, his smug expression darkening maliciously.
"They know you're a snake speaker," Izar pointed out unnecessarily. The Dark Lord could understand Norwegian, and Izar could comprehend more than half of what they said, though his Norwegian wasn't nearly as good as his French. "They think you picked the items on the list. They think you manipulated the Tournament. Did you?"
The tension around the Dark Lord gradually dissipated as his brown gaze met Izar's. "I did." Riddle offered a vindictive smirk. "And despite your earlier frustrations with me for not mentioning the Task, I did take the initiative to speak to the serpents of the forest. They will all but bow down to you as you pass through."
Izar was flabbergasted and a bit insulted.
"What…" he trailed off and narrowed his eyes. "I can take care of myself. I thought you wanted me to prove myself to you. Surely the most difficult item to collect would be the runespoor."
Riddle remained silent, attentively watching as Dumbledore stepped inside the tent and ushered Lukas outside. "Serpents are my territory, Izar. I don't intend for you to struggle against something that I can disperse. You will face other dangers inside the forest. After all, I wouldn't want you to come away with venom poisoning."
"I wanted a fair competition," Izar murmured darkly as he moved toward the exit of the tent.
"Is that so?" Riddle questioned lightly with amusement. "Were you not the one who demanded to know the First Task?"
Izar felt the tips of his ears warm. The man did have a point.
"That was wrong of me," he said. "You were right not to tell me."
He stiffened as the Dark Lord approached him from behind. Despite the man's silent approach, Izar could sense Riddle's magic gradually inch closer. A hand snaked out and curled around his jaw, turning him to meet the man's eyes.
"I want you to forget everything today, Izar. Forget about your father, the ring, and the fact that you are my Death Eater. I want you to focus on the Task." The man paused as if trying to recall how to properly—and genuinely—give encouragement. "Try your hardest and you will succeed."
The man patted his cheek a bit too sharply, causing Izar's cheek to burn in its wake.
He glowered at a smirking Dark Lord.
"Mr. Harrison?"
Izar turned, catching the periwinkle blue eyes.
"Are you ready?"
Izar looked at his leather-clad hands. In his left hand, he clutched both the bag of vials and the scroll of items. In his right hand, he already had his wand out and ready. "I am, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled lightly and motioned Izar forward. "Then follow me, dear boy."
As Izar followed the instruction, he caught the guarded look Dumbledore offered Riddle over his head. Izar remained oblivious, his expression not relaying his amusement. So Dumbledore was suspicious of Riddle. Izar wondered how much it irked the old man knowing that a Dark Lord was courting his students and walking the halls of Hogwarts. The Headmaster had no say over the matter, especially because Riddle was such a prominent politician.
Izar escaped the tent and began his trek on the grassy Quidditch pitch.
He had only attended Quidditch matches in his first year. The sport had never interested him, but he had always wondered what the stands looked like from the Quidditch players' perspective.
His curiosity was sated as countless of students stood upon his arrival, cheering madly.
Izar found it difficult to look around without feeling… flattered.
He was surprised to see the entire population of Hogwarts showing their support for him. Students cheered and held banners, revealing their blue bands across their forearms. And it wasn't only students in the stands; the majority were parents and older adults standing amongst the crowd.
Izar offered a small, tentative smirk, trying to keep his posture confident in the face of so many stares.
He took comfort in the fact that Dumbledore's tall form towered over him. But with the Headmaster insisting on ushering Izar forward and into the limelight, the wizard's looming height only drew attention to how small Izar appeared.
It was easy to spot the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons fans. Not only did their school uniforms clash against the crowd, but their sitting forms were a sore thumb compared to the others on their feet. Izar surveyed the fans, not able to distinguish any features from the men and women. They were too far up.
His gazed suddenly landed on the three large screens hanging from the pitch.
Dread filled his stomach when he realized that there were small cameras following each of the Champions. Each Champion had their name underneath the screen, the amount of time they'd been in the forest, and the number of items they had collected. It appeared as if Cyprien was in the lead, already gathering three out of the ten objects.
"You didn't tell me we would be followed by a bloody wizarding camera," Izar murmured to Riddle.
Riddle merely smiled at the stands.
The third screen was blank, ready to activate once Izar entered the forest. As if sensing his utter excitement at being watched, a small device soared across the pitch and settled right in front of his face. Izar frowned, taking a step back as he surveyed the creature—the device. He distinctly remembered reading about it in one of his textbooks. It was called a Watchful. It appeared remarkably like a Snitch the Quidditch players used.
Only, it had one large eyeball.
Izar sneered when his image suddenly appeared on the screen.
"Ignore it," Riddle said softly in warning. "You'd better not allow it to distract you."
"Sonorus." Dumbledore pointed his wand at his throat, his voice becoming deafening in volume. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present you with the Hogwarts Champion, Mr. Izar Harrison."
The cheers heightened once again, making Izar feel ill.
"Smile," Riddle ordered through clenched teeth. "Bloody child, smile."
Izar swallowed his bile and offered a twisted smile. The smile was just as comforting as the stare he was receiving from both Tom Riddle and the Norwegian Minister, Bjørn Steinar. Izar offered a small wave, hoping to make up for his lack of politician smile.
Riddle caught his eyes before turning away. Though he tried to hide it, an amused smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
Dumbledore chuckled and patted Izar's shoulder like one would do a small child. "Mr. Harrison will receive the same list of items as the other two Champions. Let us wish Izar good luck." Dumbledore removed his hand from Izar's shoulder as he flung his wand in the air. A loud snap echoed across the pitch as an image of the Hogwarts crest materialized in thin air. "Begin!"
Izar flinched, blinking, before turning to run.
His timer started to churn, the flashing numbers mocking Izar as he sprinted across the pitch and toward the forest. All the while, the moving eye followed at his heels.
He entered the forest in record time. "Lumos." His wand tip lightened the dark atmosphere of the forest. The early October air was a bit chilly, especially in a place that rarely received sun. He hunkered to a stop near the entrance of the forest, his gaze searching the ground.
Bubotubers typically resided at the edge of forests. They generally enjoyed the warm sun when they slept and wiggled beneath the ground during the night when they were active in the rituals of mating and consuming soil. Izar grimaced as he walked along the forest floor, hoping to see a sign of a nesting area.
He ignored the Watchful, trying not to think of the hundreds of people watching his every move. It just made his skin crawl and his mind distracted.
And Voldemort most definitely would not want him distracted.
Up ahead, Izar caught sight of upturned soil. There they were. The bubotubers. Sitting vertically in the soil, they appeared like a patch of mushrooms. Their tails slowly wiggled back and forth in the setting sun, a sign of their deep slumber.
Izar walked softly toward their nesting area, gathering one of the vials from his bag. Fortunate for his leather gloves, he pinched one of the bubotubers and withdrew it from the soil. It squirmed and Izar quickly placed it in one of his vials before it could shoot pus from its many sacs. He grimaced as he held the vial close to his face, watching as it shivered from the cold.
Disgusting creatures… but useful for skin acne.
"First item recovered; bubotuber."
Izar turned, staring at the Watchful as it tediously announced his first gathered item.
His attention suddenly slid past the Watchful and toward the tall bush behind it. He perked up, quickly standing and making his way over to the familiar brush. It quivered as Izar approached, and he all but purred in excitement.
It was a Flutterby bush. Oh, sweet Merlin. He leaned closer to the bush, watching in fascination as the leaves twitched and fluttered. They were an important ingredient in Felix Felicis, the liquid luck. Izar had no need for the potion himself, but he had always been interested in brewing it. And it would fetch a pretty penny…
He straightened and considered the leaves.
It wasn't on his list of required items, but…
Grey-green eyes glanced at the hovering Watchful as it stared at him. Really… Now he understood why this Task would be so difficult. Throwing a Ravenclaw in an area with so many rare and valued ingredients was just torture.
Izar huffed, reaching out to cut a stem of the Flutterby bush. He quickly placed it in his bag and walked away.
"Unidentified item," the Watchful spoke monotonously.
"Oh, sod off," Izar growled and he walked deeper into the forest.
Death of Today
Izar scrambled from the murky pond, brushing the dripping water from his face. He grimaced at the horrible smell, wondering how the hell toads could move that quickly.
The Watchful blinked lazily at Izar as the boy shook himself of the muddy water.
"Ninth item recovered; toad stomach."
Eight minutes had passed since he entered the forest, and the only remaining item on his list was the runespoor head.
Just a moment ago, he had heard a loud ringing across the forest. The Watchful following him had announced that the Beauxbatons Champion, Cyprien, had reached the pitch first. Izar imagined the boy would have been there quicker if it wasn't for the serpents and the long trek back to the pitch. After all the running and sprinting Izar had done, he assumed he was just as far from the pitch as Cyprien had been.
So far, there hadn't been any creatures to block his path. The Centaur that Izar had stumbled across earlier had dismissed him as a mere child. The Centaur had also warned him not to continue further into the forest, for terrible things would transpire. Izar had nodded sincerely and disregarded the warning.
After all, runespoors and the aconite were known to be in the deepest depths of forests.
Since the Centaur's warning, however, Izar felt unsettled. It could have just been the Watchful following him, but he kept his wand raised nonetheless, ignoring his sore and locked knuckles.
His hair was sticking up in every which direction, the ends curling uncontrollably with the moisture. His clothes were ripped and burned from collecting the Ashwinder's eggs. Despite Riddle's assurance that they would all but bow down before him, Izar still encountered a problem with the mothers guarding their nests.
At the Ashwinder's nest, he had also encountered Lukas. The two hadn't traded any comments, mindful of the fans watching. In fact, there had been a couple of instances in which Lukas had been conveniently nearby wherever Izar went. Fortunately, Izar had noted the other Champion looked just as disheveled as he did.
Croak
Izar turned toward the pond, his wand light giving him enough leeway to see a group of toads staring at him from their lily pads. Izar grimaced as their throats expanded into sacs before croaking. They were angry at him for taking away one of their own.
Croak
Izar looked down, his eyes widening as he observed the fat toad on his shoe. "Move, you foolish creature," he hissed in disgust. He kicked his foot, sending the fat creature flying.
A loud plop was heard as it landed in the pond.
Suddenly, a pinching-like noise sounded behind him. He froze, staring at the ripples in the pond before slowly turning around. Just as he feared, an Acromantula stood behind him, its pinchers clicking together with excitement. Its eight eyes gleamed back at him from the light of his wand.
"You don't want me," Izar reasoned as he saw another Acromantula fall behind its companion. "I mean…really." He pinched his arm. "I don't have enough flesh."
"You'd be enough for some of us," the creature growled.
Another three spiders scampered across the light of his wand and Izar realized he might have gone too far into the forest. "You're right of course." Izar nodded, the grip on his wand becoming unbearably tight. He knew a spell for one Acromantula, but it wasn't enough for a whole army. "You can't have too many humans wandering around the middle of the forest, no?"
He took a step backward, more than aware of the other Acromantulas behind him. How could he have let himself be circled? It was foolish of him to be so oblivious to his surroundings like this.
The Acromantula tapped its pinchers one last time before lunging.
"Arania Exumai!"
Izar whipped his wand across his body as he blasted the spider back into oblivion. It was meant to kill large breed spiders, Acromantulas especially. He turned and fled, his mind working furiously. Sirius had worked with him on his dueling skills, enough to warrant a change in Izar's battle mentality.
The first thing on his mind… right…
"Cendere," Izar whispered as he created small circles with his wand. Above his head, a small ring of fire erupted. "Cendere," he murmured again, the fire growing. Behind him, he could hear the tapping feet of the running Acromantula. The sound made the hairs on the back of his neck stand in apprehension. "Cendere."
The fire intensified. It was similar to that of a thick rope as it connected to his wand. Izar suddenly stopped running and dropped his bag of vials as he readied himself into a defensive stance.
The spiders came at him from all angles, closing in.
His arm swung around his body as he whipped the fiery rope around him. It created a wide perimeter, keeping the spiders at bay. The fire struck a few of the Acromantulas who were dense enough to try to venture past the fiery perimeter. They screamed, hunching backward, but stayed patiently nearby. Even they knew he would shortly tire of harnessing the fire. And when that happened, their meal would be defenseless and weak.
Izar breathed heavily as he conjured up his next plan of action.
The only thing Acromantulas were afraid of were Basilisks. And there was a spell to conjure an illusion of a Basilisk, but it was considered Dark among many textbooks. The Basilisk would be conjured only for a few hours—if not minutes—depending on how much magic one used. But it was long enough for Izar, who only needed to chase away the spiders.
The watchful spectators were the only thing that concerned him. While Dark magic was not forbidden—with the exception of the Unforgivables—the art was still looked down upon by Light wizards.
He had no other choice.
Izar swirled the fire around one more time, concentrating on the incantation. Surely, he only had one chance to do it right. "Inferorum animas…" Izar started weakly, "basilisk."
His wand trembled, turning unbearably hot. A strong wind ruffled his hair as his fire extinguished and another, much larger object moved around him. His eyes slid closed. While the conjured Basilisk lacked the venom of a real one, it did possess the power to stun those who looked at it directly.
Izar threw his wand out, pointing toward the surrounding Acromantulas. A menacing hiss escaped the Basilisk as it lunged forward, and judging from the trembling ground, the spiders all hurried to flee. Deciding to risk it, Izar cracked open an eye, watching as the Basilisk moved deeper into the forest as it chased away the frightened spiders.
He made a mental note not to go that direction.
He breathed deeply, calming himself.
The forest was stale with silence and inactivity, even the toads had moved under the water at the sight of the conjured Basilisk. His hands were shaking as he bent low to retrieve his fallen items. Only a runespoor remained. After which, he would have to venture his way back to Hogwarts' grounds before he could safely say he succeeded in the Task.
Izar stiffened as his magic spasmed.
He felt another source of magic approach him from behind.
It wasn't a strong source of magic, just a small stirring. Possibly an animal or maybe Lukas again. With his wand at the ready, he turned, only to be greeted with a face-full of glowing powder. He spluttered, the powder going up his nose, mouth, and eyes. He tried to wipe it away but his arm stiffened and fell uselessly to his side.
And then the pain began.
A high-pitched scream escaped his mouth before everything… swam and swirled.
Death of Today
Severus sat stiffly near the judge's panel, watching the proceedings through a critical eye. Izar was doing brilliantly, Severus noted. While the Beauxbatons Champion had just made it back, he had started ten minutes before Izar and five minutes before the Durmstrang boy. Both boys were still in the forest and both of them were nearly finished.
Severus sat back as he watched the proceedings with Izar and the Acromantulas.
As the boy battled the spiders, Severus noticed the grace in the boy's stance. Surprisingly, Izar was holding his own for a boy of merely fifteen. Onyx eyes tore away from the screen and watched the audience. They were ensnared, their faces expectant as they watched the battle. He bypassed them, hoping to catch a… familiar face.
If the man was smart enough, he'd be far away from the Tournament today.
But what if Regulus had already spoken to the Dark Lord?
He casually looked sideways at the Undersecretary. The man appeared at ease as he attentively observed the screen. His thin glasses reflected back the image of Izar conjuring fire as means of a shield.
Murmurs spread throughout the pitch, causing Severus to look up in time to observe the Basilisk Izar had just conjured. It was a Dark spell, and Severus knew there would be questions surrounding the boy's knowledge of such an enchantment. It was terribly advanced and not in the Hogwarts' curriculum.
Severus smirked. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Dark Lord all but gloated.
More yells erupted across the audience as Lukas Steinar's screen blinked out.
It was normal for the device to blink, but never this long.
Severus leaned forward, drinking in the sight of Izar as the boy turned unnaturally stiff and slowly turned. The screen blinked out just as they heard a scream. Reacting instinctively, Severus quickly stood and made his way to the Dark Lord's side. He removed his wand, knowing time was of the essence.
"Do not interfere!" Bjørn Steinar barked, his teeth snapping into a snarl. "The Watchful is known to malfunction at times. Surely, Dumbledore, you will not permit Undersecretary Riddle to enter the forest and interrupt the Task."
Dumbledore stood with French Minister Roux.
"You heard the scream, Bjørn, don't assume you did not," Roux declared, almost bored. "Let us enter and see for ourselves. If everything is well, we will leave the situation as it was."
Riddle and Severus hadn't waited for the French Minister's permission. By the time Roux had concluded, the Dark Lord was already across the pitch and close to the entrance of the forest. The man's cloak flew out around his tall frame, exaggerating his strides and forcing Severus to jog to keep up. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully when he noticed the Dark Lord was unarmed. Surely the Dark Lord's wand was inside the man's sleeve, but it wasn't in his hand, directing them with a Point Me spell.
And yet…it was as if the Dark Lord knew where Mr. Harrison was located.
Was it possibly the Dark Mark acting as a locator?
It wasn't until several minutes into their trek when Severus stepped on something uneven. Pausing, he moved his lightened wand toward his foot, observing the dead Watchful beneath the sole of his heel. Its eye was torn out of its socket, irreversibly damaged.
"Severus, quickly."
Severus looked around the darkened forest, not seeing the Dark Lord until he looked down. The man was kneeling in front of the whimpering and feverish form of Izar Harrison. "What do you think it is?" Riddle mused. "I can't say I recognize it, but if I knew it by name, I would be familiar." Riddle peered closer at the glowing purple powder scattered across Izar's face.
Severus stopped in his tracks, horrified.
"My L—" He cleared his throat, a slight flush across his face as he felt his Dark Mark spasm for nearly mistaking the man's title in public. "Mr. Riddle, please, move away quickly and do not inhale suddenly."
Surprisingly, the Dark Lord backed away, however slightly.
"What is it Severus?" Dumbledore asked as he and the other judges finally arrived.
As Severus crouched next to Izar, the boy issued a louder moan. His eyes were wide and his lips were moving in silent screams. A few moans and yelps escaped his throat, only growing louder and more persistent upon the presence of more wizards. Severus carefully observed the boy's pupils, noting they were unevenly dilated, an inclination that the dust was working its curse.
"Devil's Venenum." Severus shook his head. "It's a form of Alihotsy, a powder that causes hysteria. Only, the Devil's Venenum causes mind hallucinations until the brain shuts down completely. It's inhaled through the nose and mouth."
"Is there any way to stop it?" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Surely Madame Promfrey—"
"No magic," Severus replied harshly. "The victim only gets worse if magic is cast around him. The dust thrives off magic, giving it strength to eat the mind faster. Only the victim's own magic can try to eat away the curse. It's cured by natural causes, Headmaster. If Mr. Harrison is strong enough, he may be able to fight it. Otherwise…"
Dumbledore paled.
His mouth moved into a thin line and his expression darkened. "All of you, out." He motioned to the surrounding judges. "There's been an attack, an unjust attack toward one of the Champions. Dismiss the spectators and postpone any questions until further notice." The judges stood in place, their stunned eyes examining Izar as the boy twitched on the ground. "Now!"
With Dumbledore's strong order, the judges reluctantly trekked back to the castle, leaving Severus alone with Dumbledore and Riddle.
"Is there any way this could have happened by a plant or an animal, Severus?" Riddle spoke darkly. "Or was this intentional?"
Why did the man have to ask when he already knew?
Severus' hands lay uselessly on Izar's shoulders, feeling the boy tremble uncontrollably. "Intentional. Devil's Venenum originates in northwest Asia. It is not native to these lands," Severus replied, furrowing his brows as the boy whimpered pathetically.
"We will speak of the incident when we get Izar to the castle," Dumbledore said. "Severus, will you carry Izar?"
"Stop," Riddle ordered sharply, instantly causing Severus to freeze. The man cast a distrustful glance at Dumbledore before refocusing on Severus. "What if Mr. Harrison is magic sensitive? Surely Hogwarts' magic would be the same as casting magic on him, correct? He is far too sensitive to his magical surroundings than the typical wizard."
An icy sensation gripped his chest. "Magic sensitive?" Severus repeated carefully. He let go of Izar and carefully stood up. "If that is the case…" he trailed off, flashing a pointed look at the Dark Lord. "Then we have a far more serious issue at hand than originally believed."
"His Muggle orphanage," Dumbledore volunteered quickly. "We can transport him to his orphanage. Only there, will he find salvation from magic."
"I do not think so," Riddle hissed. "They will throw him aside like a sack of rubbish. He will not receive the care he needs."
Dumbledore's face split into a dangerous leer. Severus took a step back, mindful of the growing magic around him. If he was aware of the magic, then Izar most certainly was. "Do not allow your prejudices for Muggles to cloud your judgment, Tom. This is a boy's life we are speaking of—"
"I'm more than aware of that, Dumbledore." Riddle curled his fingers around his wand. "Allow me to bring him somewhere free of magic. My father's home." A sneer upturned Riddle's patrician features. "There is no magic there."
Dumbledore hesitated. "There is no one to take proper care of him—"
Again, the Dark Lord interrupted, "I will. I know certain spells that will suppress my magic for a brief period of time. He will be well looked after." Without waiting for further discussion, Riddle lifted Izar in his arms, cradling the boy with more care than Severus would have ever thought possible.
Dumbledore remained silent.
"Can Izar handle an Apparition?" Riddle questioned coolly.
"It's the only way to transport him. He will have to endure it."
With a sharp nod, Riddle Apparated out of sight.
Dumbledore appeared unusually defeated. "Why do I feel as if I should have done more for Mr. Harrison? I should have prevented him from leaving with Tom." Dumbledore rubbed his face with long, thin fingers. "It is difficult imagining Tom caring about someone enough to live as a Muggle for a few hours, let alone a few days. Impossible to believe."
Severus remained silent, his own thoughts along the same lines.
He could not comprehend it.
