Edited March 2021
Part One, Chapter Seventeen
"This is the house?" Bole asked again from beneath his mask. "You're completely certain this is Appleton's residence?"
The six Death Eaters were crouched outside Appleton's warmly-lit home. Each student wore a charcoal death mask, save for the smallest male figure in the middle. Izar's eyes flashed from beneath his silver mask, a warning to Bole to stop repeating himself. "Theodore has already expressed his certainty that this is the old Mudblood's home."
"Who knew the old rat had such a decent home?" Peregrine Derrick contemplated.
"It's because he gets fat off the Ministry's money for sacking Dark wizards," Nott responded angrily, his eyes a turmoil of emotion. "Let's go in."
Just as Theodore was about to lead the group inside, Izar felt his Mark burn. He hissed, grabbing Theodore's cloak and pulling him backward. All five sets of eyes turned expectantly in his direction. "Didn't you feel it?"
"Feel what?" Daphne sent a quick, apprehensive glance toward Appleton's home.
"The Dark Mark," Izar ground out with irritation. Children. Were they really that oblivious to the things around them? Their focus was on the excitement, the thrill of their first kill. "I felt it burn."
Their attention seemed to come into focus at the mention of their Master. They became somber and still.
"I didn't feel it burn," Nott injected quietly.
"Me neither," Derrick's deep voice rumbled. "Perhaps you're just paranoid he'll catch us."
The rest of the Slytherin's nodded in agreement. Only Draco seemed a bit subduer than his companions as he crouched closer to Izar. Whenever Draco was among equals, his loud mouth seemed to become more controlled. Perhaps it was due to one of his father's many painful lessons during his childhood years.
"Oh," Izar began sinisterly, "I'm not paranoid he'll find out. I know he'll find out. You honestly think the Dark Lord can be bested by schoolchildren?"
Daphne's mossy green eyes clouded with uncertainty. "Perhaps it is best if we wait to do this, Nott. Izar is right. The Dark Lord will be beyond furious if he finds out. I don't know if I'm ready to feel one of his Cruciatus curses. My father says they're horrible. It takes days to recover from it."
Draco nodded in silent agreement, his cold grey eyes catching Izar's.
"Fine," Nott spat. "You five stay here. Let me go inside myself. He's an old Mudblood. Our Lord should be pleased we're following his philosophies."
"Don't be an idiot," Izar growled, tugging Nott back once again. "You think you can just barge in there and announce your arrogant presence? There are wards in place. You wouldn't even get within distance before being knocked off your feet. And there is a great amount of magic coming from his house. More so than the surrounding houses."
The older Slytherin, Bole, looked at him quizzically. "How do you know all that?" He looked around at the other houses on the block. They were only a few blocks away from Diagon Alley. "I can't feel any of the magic coming from the houses."
Izar withheld a sigh.
"No, but I can." Before they could interrupt again, he continued, "we need a plan of action. What if Appleton has a family? What if he has visitors? We need to surround the perimeter before entering. Well, scratch that," Izar contemplated. "We need to de-ward the house before entering."
"Oi? And who the bloody hell is going to de-ward the house? Warding is barely touched at the end of seventh year, let alone de-warding," Derrick growled.
"Careful," Izar whispered venomously, "your knickers are starting to twist up your bloody arse."
"Izar," Daphne exclaimed, flustered. Next to her, Draco snickered quietly. "We aren't going to get anywhere if we keep arguing. Izar is correct. He will de-ward the property, and we will surround the perimeter before entering. If I remember correctly, Nott and Derrick both expressed their respect for Izar's intelligence. Why don't you two prove you are better wizards and make good on your remarks? He's our leader."
Derrick had the audacity to look a bit ashamed.
"Appleton doesn't have a family," Nott said tensely in answer to Izar's earlier inquiry. "He lives alone."
"Right." Izar sneered at the boy's petulance. "Derrick, Bole, and Daphne will enter through the back. Draco and Nott, you are with me in the front." Just as the three were about to leave, Izar sighed once again. "Wait until I get the wards down."
They sat back, their eyes clearly revealing their embarrassment.
He turned toward the wards, not very impressed with their structure. They were put up sloppily and lazily, as if the caster hadn't even cared about the magic's purpose. He always pitied magic when it wasn't used to its fullest potential.
With his wand at the ready, he snuck closer to the wards and began to unravel them as he'd done at Ollivander's. Someone crawled next to him, though Izar remained focused on his task.
"How do you do that so easily? Can you see it?" It was Draco.
"Yes," Izar responded distractedly, "I'm sensitive to magic."
Draco was silent for quite some time. "What does it look like? Magic, I mean."
Izar paused in his workings. "It's not very noticeable." He was aware of Draco deflating next to him. "It's calm, most of the time." He recalled Voldemort's magic when it was angry and grinned. "Lazy, I suppose is the best word for it. It looks a bit like smoke or fog. Sometimes it's a distinguishable color. Other times, there are a few particles that rival the appearance of dust. These particles sometimes glitter, like dew in the morning light. They travel incredibly slow through the magic."
He wished he could see everyone's aura, because surely, he'd see some unique appearances. Unfortunately, his sight was only limited to the strong wizards' auras or the magical objects that harbored substantial magic.
Draco was unnervingly quiet.
After he whisked away another layer of the ward, Izar glanced at his distant cousin, noticing the blond boy's unwavering stare.
"What?" Izar demanded, feeling self-conscious.
The Malfoy heir shrugged, turning back to the lightened house. "I've never seen you smile like that before, that's all."
Izar snorted. "I have a bloody mask on my face, Malfoy. You can't even see my mouth."
"No," Draco whispered. "But I can see your eyes."
Izar peeled away the last layer of the ward, leaving Draco's comment lingering in the air. "It's down." He motioned the other Death Eaters forward. "I don't know if he has a sensor that tells him if the wards are down, so we'd better hurry."
The three Slytherins ran toward the back of the house while Nott took position between Draco and Izar.
Theodore was breathing heavily through his mask, and Izar contemplated the boy's emotional stability. Unsurprisingly, Theodore's emotions were ruling his decisions. And while Izar didn't blame the boy for wanting revenge, Izar was inclined to disagree with the boy's timing.
Now wasn't the time to extract revenge.
But what did Izar know? It wasn't his father. It wasn't his life. The boy would kill Appleton regardless if Izar accompanied him or not. Izar just chose to come along to make it as safe as he could.
Still…
He cocked his head to the side as he observed the house they steadily approached. As he had observed earlier, this house was emitting more magic than the other houses on the block. Granted this was a magical community, but this house… for some reason… it made him uncertain.
The Dark Mark gave a sharp burn and Izar hissed, placing his hand over his Mark. Next to him, Draco did the same, his eyes widening comically. A whimper escaped the blond. "He's angry. No, he's bloody furious."
Nott flashed a look at Draco from over his shoulder. "I need to do this. I need to avenge my father."
Before Draco or Izar could hold him back, Nott charged up the front porch and slashed his wand through the air. The front door exploded in a shower of splinters, allowing them leeway into the house. Izar trailed behind Nott, keeping his wand at the ready and cautiously watching the boy's back.
So much for subtlety.
They made their way into a foyer, and Izar ran a critical eye across their surroundings. The fireplace was roaring and crackling, and upon the nearby alcohol cart, there was a half-finished tumbler of vodka. A pair of slippers were situated near the leather armchair, and a paper was displayed proudly upon the coffee table. Even from a distance, Izar could see the headline screaming about an inmate in Azkaban.
Mr. Nott.
There'd definitely been someone here just recently—someone who'd left in a hurry.
"Do you reckon he's upstairs?" Derrick asked as his group entered from the back.
"If he's smart, he would have Disapparated as soon as he heard his door explode," Izar mused under his breath.
The five Slytherins moved together and looked upstairs, conversing quietly with one another.
While they whispered a plan of action, Izar's lips thinned as he took another closer look about the empty room. A bookshelf stood in the corner of the room, overladen with books that put Izar on edge. All the books were of Light magic, high Light. His attention then honed on the Animagus books, and his stomach dropped.
"He's an Animagus," Izar said quietly. The Slytherins turned to him. "That's how he spots the Dark Artifacts in the houses. He must be a beetle or a small insect of some sort to crawl into the properties."
"That filthy Mudblood," Nott spat, his eyes deranged behind his mask. "Let's go upstairs."
With his wand still raised, Izar moved toward the fireplace. His eyes were sharp as he searched for any sort of insect. Upon nearing the armchair, he caught movement in the slipper. A small beetle crawled quickly inside the cotton blue slipper, hoping not to be seen.
"No." Izar stopped the group from walking upstairs.
"Izar—"
Izar turned, his eyes wide and angry. "You do not use our names."
Appleton needed to die. If it wasn't guaranteed before, it certainly was now. Izar sighed, wondering why there were so many idiots in the wizarding world. Honestly, using one's name in the enemy's house when they were under cover?
"Homorpus!"
He pointed his wand at the slipper, watching as a golden light surrounded the item. Shortly, the slipper bulged widely before the man's head could no longer fit inside. Within seconds, a short and stout man sat against the armchair, his beady eyes narrowed angrily. Izar kept his wand extended, pointing straight between the man's eyes.
If he had to compare this man to something, it would certainly be a beetle.
The man's upper and lower body sort of blended together in a wide bulge. There were no curves or definition, just a large, bulbous torso with an even smaller, rounder head. A heavy beard grew on the man's face, his lips almost hidden amongst all the hair. Equally bushy eyebrows poked out from his thick glasses.
"You little runts," the man growled, his yellow teeth snapping together in a fierce scowl. "You really think you're going to get away with this?"
Nott stumbled from the staircase, pushing everyone aside. Izar gladly stepped backward, his opposite hand grabbing the discarded wand Appleton was leaning toward.
The old man looked into Izar's eyes and scowled again. "You smart arse, little bastard," Appleton seethed. "I bet you think you're pretty special. But you're nothing but a worthless piece of shit. Just like all the other foul wizards I put away."
Izar ignored the insult, oddly amused at the vocabulary the old man possessed.
"Shut up," Nott growled, thrusting his wand closer toward Appleton's face. "You're just as worthless."
Izar raised his eyebrows. The boy was having trouble controlling himself, his emotions, and his trembling wand. There were tears in Theodore's eyes as he finally stood face to face with his father's accuser.
The Slytherins on the stairs slowly walked down, their postures eager. The two seventh year Slytherins had their wands at the ready, pointing at Appleton, and appearing bloodthirsty. This was pathetic. They didn't have enough time to take rounds, torturing Appleton. They needed to act fast and leave fast.
"Kill him," Izar ordered Nott coldly. "Don't play with your food."
"Says you," Derrick spat. "I bet you're sympathetic toward him because he's like you. A Mudblood."
Izar sighed tiredly. "Kill him," he repeated firmly. "We don't know if he called for help before we came inside." He assessed the vodka and the article on Nott's father. "Though he was certainly celebrating…" he mused to himself.
Draco shifted closer to him, his eyes glued on the scene in front of him. His wand was slightly lowered, yet high enough to defend himself. Izar realized Malfoy wasn't going to participate in the torture and killing of Appleton. Good. Standing across from him, Daphne appeared like a gorgeous statue. Her eyes were unreadable as she watched Theodore and Appleton closely. Her posture was a clear sign she did not wish to participate, either.
That just left Derrick and Bole.
The two seventh years were all but bouncing on their feet, excitement clouding their expressions. They were blind to the world around them.
"You're Nott's kid, aren't you?" Appleton poked, guessing correctly. He laughed harshly and sent a derisive look at the others. "Here with your little friends in cute little uniforms. You won't do it."
The man called Nott's bluff, and Izar had to agree full heartedly. Despite Theodore's drive to get revenge on his father's imprisonment, he was too emotional and confused to strike the killing blow.
"Crucio," Nott said shakily.
The spell barely tickled Appleton. Izar observed the old man as he lost his breath, a bit of pain tightening his features. But there was no screaming, no pleading to be killed to escape the pain.
"Crucio," Derrick took over, eager.
This time, the man screamed.
"He's mine!" Nott howled. He pushed Derrick away, successfully breaking the spell on Appleton.
"You promised we could have our fun!" Derrick argued back. "Both Bole and I."
Bole nodded next to Derrick, his fingers caressing his wand.
There they were, using their names again. Despite the fact that Appleton would most likely be killed tonight, something could occur between now and then to warrant Appleton's escape. The man had most of their names, putting them in trouble with both the law and Voldemort.
"You two will have more than enough time to claim your own prey with the Dark Lord's rise to power," Izar reasoned. "Let our friend have his revenge."
Derrick and Bole both glowered at Izar, yet they stood down when they realized the truth to his words. When the Dark Lord came out to the public, they would have more than enough Mudbloods and Muggles to play with. Or maybe not. Maybe Voldemort would be vindictive enough to ground them for participating in future raids just for tonight's dumb stunt.
"He's going to kill us," Draco whispered next to Izar. "If not the Dark Lord, then my father." The blond rubbed his burning Mark through his sleeve.
"Then why did you accompany us?"
Nott cast another Cruciatus curse, finally gaining some courage. Appleton grunted and his breathing turned labored.
"To keep you safe," Draco declared before turning away. "Do you feel that?" The boy's back stiffened. "I feel eyes on me."
Izar kept quiet. If he agreed with Draco, the boy would become hysterical. He not only felt eyes on him, but he also felt a shift in the atmosphere. An intensity of magic.
The man had alerted the Ministry as soon as he felt the wards drop…
"Kill him," Izar ordered again sharply, his wand turning from Appleton to Nott as means of motivation. "Quickly. The Ministry is here."
Nott's eyes widened and he froze.
They all froze.
Izar pointed his wand toward Appleton. "Viscerare."
The heart attack curse engulfed the man before Appleton could even register the quick attack. The man choked, his hands going to his chest before he slumped to the ground, shuddering. His purple lips were visible to Izar as he stared down at his first kill. It was far too chaotic to determine what he felt about it.
He turned his shoulder. "We have to hurry. The back door."
It was Slytherin survival mode.
Izar had heard rumors that Slytherins were cowards in the face of danger. They saved their own hide and ran. But this was the first time Izar had seen it personally. The two older Slytherins pushed the others out of the way as they sprinted toward the back door, leaving their peers scrambling to keep up.
As soon as the group of students exited the home, they heard the cracks of Apparition inside the foyer where they once were. Izar glanced over his shoulder, spying the blue-clad Auror lunging after them with a hex sparking from the tip of his wand. Izar barely dodged in time, feeling the hex shoot past his ear, heating the skin in its wake.
As he turned back forward, he stared uncomprehendingly at the scene ahead of him.
The two older Slytherins grabbed hold of the first person they came in contact with. Bole caught Daphne around the waist, and Derrick curled his hand around Theodore's robe.
And then they both Disapparated, leaving Izar and Draco behind.
Draco cried loudly in dismay.
Izar curled his hand around the boy's arm, forcing him to hurry. "Run!"
He had picked the backdoor as their escape route, simply because it was the least covered area when he felt the Aurors arrive. But now, he could feel them quickly closing in from behind.
"Diagon Alley." Izar sprinted, pushing his legs to their limit and forcing Draco to keep up. "We can break into one of the shops and use their Floo. Unless you know how to Disapparate?" After all, the boy had boasted that he knew how to Apparate before they had arrived here.
While Izar had read about the strategy of Apparition, he had never practiced it. And he knew, given his current distressed state, he would most likely splinch both himself and Draco on his first try.
His cousin shook his head frantically, denying his ability. He then stumbled ungracefully on his feet as he dodged a spell that soared over his shoulder, only staying upright thanks to Izar's quick support. Risking a look backward, Izar grimaced as he observed the sheer number of Aurors racing after them.
"We're going to die," Draco cried hysterically.
Once the disbelief and panic wore off, Izar found himself laughing. He felt light. He felt alive. He had never been in a life-threatening situation before—unless he counted the Acromantulas during the First Task—but having this thrill, this sort of excitement and adrenaline felt good.
He blamed it on the insanity of the Black genes.
Izar secured a hold around Draco's waist, tugging him sharply down a courtyard. And just in time too. A spell exploded the brick wall, creating a sizable crater where Draco's head would have been. Ignoring Draco's high-pitched wail, Izar led them toward Diagon Alley. The Aurors' spells were getting more desperate as they aimed it at their retreating forms.
And then…
Their spells suddenly tapered off, and in their place, cracks of Disapparation were heard.
Izar stopped, forcing Draco to stop with him. They stood between two houses, just at the cusp of Diagon Alley.
"They know where we're headed and will be roaming Diagon Alley." A few Aurors who hadn't Disapparated sprinted toward their hesitating forms. Izar struggled to think of what to do next. "Help me," he demanded as he raised his wand.
One of the Aurors advanced quickly, her stance scarily agile as she slashed her wand through the air. A red hex shot their way, and Izar watched it with a forced level of detachment. Despite the heightened pulse and adrenaline during duels, Sirius stressed that it was vital to remain calm and collected. If his emotions were calm, he had a clearer perception of the situation.
"Protego." He swirled his wand lazily and successfully blocked the curse.
But there were two more coming in his direction. He quickly ducked one of them and conjured another shield for the other. Behind him, he could hear Draco frantically scream out spells, undoubtedly unequipped with high stakes dueling.
"Start a shield. Keep reinforcing it," Izar ordered as he crouched at Draco's feet. It was time to experiment with the spells he had created. He smirked as he wiggled the tip of his wand across the ground.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Draco exclaimed.
"Abrumpo," Izar whispered.
Just as he'd practiced many times in the privacy of his dorm room, his invented spell came out in a long, glowing line. He wiggled his wand again, watching with anticipation as the spell took shape of what appeared to be an elongated, glowing worm. He motioned toward the Aurors with a flick of his wrist and set it free.
The glowing red curse slithered quickly toward the group of wizards. Izar watched, intrigued, as his spell easily avoided the curses cast by the Aurors. After all, the Abrumpo was far too quick for human reflexes, and it possessed little to no vulnerabilities.
As the spell came in contact with its victim, the Auror yelped, falling to the ground as her foot was severed from her body.
"They're coming at us from behind," Draco fretted. "They're surrounding us!"
"Keep reinforcing the shield," Izar encouraged calmly, knowing he and Draco had lost. There was no way out of this. There were just too many. He heard Draco's continuous sniffling and trembling voice as he tried and failed to reinforce the shield. "Don't let them take your honor, Draco."
"Protego!" Draco tried again, effectively reinforcing the shield just as several disarming charms flew at them.
Izar squinted as he assessed their surroundings before pointing at the neighboring home. "Reducto!"
The large bay window exploded in a shower of glass. Izar flicked his wand quickly, setting the glass shards on fire and throwing them down upon the Aurors. Some of the Aurors blocked the glass expertly, while others were too slow in their guard. The shards pelted down on them like rain, imbedding into flesh and setting robes on fire.
Unfortunately, before they could celebrate, Draco's shield began to crack from the Aurors' attack from behind.
Suddenly, Izar caught sight of movement in the alleyway close by. He turned quickly, thinking it was an Auror that had managed to slip past their shield, but it was no Auror. A Death Eater mask emerged stealthily from the shadows. And then another. At first, Izar was in disbelief. Derrick and Bole had truly come back for them.
But the masks were not charcoal.
They were gold.
Voldemort's inner circle.
A deliriously relieved laugh bubbled up Izar's throat as several more Death Eaters escaped the shadows and formed a protective formation around Izar and Draco. The Aurors were taken off guard at the new threat, barely able to keep up against the Death Eaters' vicious attacks.
A Death Eater sprinted toward Izar and Draco, blocking a few curses as they flew in his direction. Judging from the man's magic and gait, Izar knew it was Snape.
And judging from the emotion blazing in those eyes…
"Now you can say we're going to die," Izar whispered to Draco.
Snape took Izar by the collar, hauling him none too gently in the air. The man's eyes were weapons as they pinned Izar with a lethal stare. "You are in a considerable amount of trouble, Mr. Harrison." Burning onyx eyes then turned to Draco, grabbing the blond by the collar as well. "You also, Mr. Malfoy."
The last thing Izar observed before being pulled into Side-Along Apparation was an Auror getting a nasty hex to his face.
Izar could have sworn Snape continued to reprimand them, even in the midst of the Apparation. His voice came out wrapped and slow as they were squeezed through time and space.
When they were dropped violently to the floor, they weren't on the cool grounds of Hogwarts, but the cold and hard ground of… marble? Izar struggled to sit up without vomiting over the clean and glossy floors. His vision spun wildly. He didn't get a chance to recover before Snape grabbed him once again, hauling him up by the collar and spinning him as they swept from the room. Izar struggled to keep up with the long strides of his professor while simultaneously keeping his vomit down.
Draco, on the other hand, didn't fare so well.
Through Izar's spinning vision, he heard the boy gag and retch.
"I take pity on you, Mr. Malfoy. If you're already weakened, the Dark Lord's wrath will leave you favoring these Apparation trips a tenfold."
Izar wondered at Snape's strength of all but carrying two male teenagers. Evidently, he had a lot of practice stalking the corridors of Hogwarts after hours and catching misbehaving students by their ears.
Izar struggled to pull away and study his surroundings, but Snape kept a steady hold around his collar. Just his toes could dance across the ground, and he oftentimes found himself being lifted cleanly off his feet. He couldn't even see properly, Snape's fierce manhandling forcing his vision to remain blurry and unfocused. All the while, they approached the raging magic further down the hall. He knew exactly where that magic led—
"My Lord," Snape's tone dropped passively. "We have successfully recovered both imbeciles."
"Oh, bloody hell," Draco whispered, voicing Izar's own thoughts.
"Good."
The hairs on Izar's neck stood on end before he was violently shoved to the ground. He hit the ground hard and laid their submissively, his eyes slowly beginning to focus. His blurry and undefined form reflected off the glossy floor, his silver death mask glinting sadistically back at him.
"Leave us, Severus."
The man must have bowed and left, for Izar could hear the man's robes billowing out from behind him.
He remained stubbornly still, trying to calm his racing pulse—his racing fear. Surely he would be out of the Dark Lord's favor now. And for how much he arrogantly proclaimed he did not care for the Dark Lord's favor, he found himself absolutely devastated over its loss.
"Someone, please, enlighten me with a reasonable explanation to your irresponsible and deplorable actions." The Dark Lord's voice was calm, but Izar was no fool. He could feel the man's magic lash out and encompass him, stinging his face with the bitterness of it. "Now," the man hissed when no one dared to speak.
"We…w-we went t-to Appleton's home, My Lord."
Izar cocked an eyebrow when he heard the unmistakable voice of Peregrine Derrick. He turned his neck just marginally, taking in the room for the first time. He saw everyone on their forearms and knees before the Dark Lord, with every head bowed low to the ground. Bole was there, along with Derrick, Nott, Daphne, and of course, Draco. They were all trembling.
Izar couldn't bear to look at the Dark Lord.
Instead, he returned his forehead back to the floor.
"That is rather obvious, Derrick. Why did you go to the man's house? What was possibly going through your heads at the time?"
"My father," Nott whispered brokenly. "I wanted revenge for my father's imprisonment, My Lord."
"Ah," Voldemort agreed. "And did you realize the extent of your actions? Did you, by chance, ever think of how your scheme would affect me? You have forced my hand early. For decades, I have carefully planned how I would announce my presence to the public, only for it to be thwarted by my very own followers."
Silence.
"Crucio."
Izar tensed in preparation, but his muscles relaxed when he heard Nott scream.
The scream was horrifyingly jolting. It was high-pitched and terribly miserable. It was distressing to listen to, especially when Izar detected the sheer desperation behind it. It was the kind of desperation that begged for mercy, one that would have taken death rather than experiencing the pain.
And it continued.
On and on.
It had to have been at least a minute or two before it finally ended. Izar's ears were ringing with the intensity of the boy's screams that had later broken and turned hoarse. He wondered if the screams affected Voldemort or if he got used to them over time. There was the possibility the man relished the screams.
As the spell ended, Izar could hear Nott's quiet whimpers and dry sobs.
He tensed again, true fear beginning to take place when the silence extended to excruciating seconds. Was Voldemort considering his next victim? Was he already drawing his wand on Izar?
"I would like to know if you succeeded in your scheme, Nott," Voldemort asked casually, as if he hadn't just tortured the bloody hell out of the boy. "Did you extract that desired revenge on the man who sent your father to prison? How did you do it?"
"N-no…Izar…"
Izar cursed mentally. He had desperately hoped he could get by without Voldemort's attention being drawn to him. Now, the man's stare felt like scalding brands.
"Oh?" There was a light tapping sound akin to a wand drumming an open palm. "Please share, Mr. Harrison."
He swallowed and pressed his forehead firmly against the ground. "He couldn't go through with it, My Lord," he began quietly. "But Appleton already knew a few of our names, so I was forced to kill him in Nott's place." Izar paused for a moment, figuring he should just continue. "Just as he died, the Ministry arrived. Apparently, Appleton had informed the Ministry of our arrival as soon as the wards dropped. We escaped the house when Derrick and Bole Disapparated with Daphne and Nott."
"And?"
"Draco and I fended for ourselves until the others arrived, My Lord. That's all."
Voldemort made a noise of fascination in the back of his throat. "I am most pleased with you, Bole, Derrick," he praised. "Both of you are in your seventh years at Hogwarts, yet you run with a tail between your legs, leaving behind two younger classmates to fend against a fleet of Aurors."
"My Lord," Bole exclaimed, "I had thought that Malfoy knew how to Apparate! He claimed he knew how earlier, so I would have thought he could escape. And Harrison—the know-it-all Mudblo—"
"Crucio."
Voldemort clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"I find this situation tiresome." He kept the Unforgiveable on Bole as he continued, the screams clearly not distracting him. "You have all committed an act of disloyalty. All acts of terror, raids, or schemes that involve a group of Death Eaters should be authorized by me and only me."
When he lifted the curse from Bole, the boy cried deliriously.
"None of you had the authorization to plan your own attack. Doing so again will result in a much harsher punishment. Let it be noted that all of you are in my disfavor. With time, you'll learn that being in my disfavor is a very unfortunate place to be. When I don't have a necessary outlet for my frustrations, I take said frustrations out on those who are on my list of disfavorables."
Disfavorables…
It wasn't even a bloody word.
Draco whimpered next to Izar, accurately predicting what was next.
"For purely demonstrative purposes, I'm feeling rather bothered at the moment. Reckless, foolish children have nearly spoiled my plans. Who is on my list of disfavorables again?" The man sounded pleased, knowing full well the tension he was eliciting from the crumbled forms at his feet. "Ah, yes, Derrick is one of my disfavorables." The man tsked. "Crucio."
So far, Draco, Daphne, and Izar were the only ones who hadn't been gifted with Voldemort's punishment. Would the Dark Lord give their punishments out tonight? Or make them agonizingly wait for it?
Once Derrick's punishment was lifted, Voldemort continued, "Your father was of first ranking in my circle, Nott. Do you not believe I would have avenged him myself?"
Nott sniffled.
Even with his head down, Izar could feel the boy's body twitch endlessly from the after effects of Voldemort's spell.
"All of you, get out of my sight," Voldemort dismissed them, his tone entirely repulsed. "Your Head of House should be waiting for you. He will be giving all of you proper punishments, even you, Mr. Harrison."
"Yes, My Lord," the students chorused at once.
Izar stood from the floor, steadying himself before moving toward the doors with the others. He eyed the two oldest students as they stumbled. They tried their best to walk straight, without falling, but their knees and legs shook uncontrollably. Nott wasn't so lucky. He stood, only to fall back to the floor, twitching.
Surprisingly, Draco was the one to assist him.
"Izar," the Dark Lord called, "stay behind a moment."
Daphne's exhausted eyes met his before he turned away. So far, Izar hadn't needed to look at Voldemort. It appeared as if his luck was about to change. He didn't want to see the utter disappointment in the crimson eyes.
When had he begun to care so much about the Dark Lord's opinions? Was it the ring? Or… had he begun to care for the Dark Lord more than he let on?
His fingers subconsciously patted his robes, feeling the brother to Voldemort's wand inside. It was still in his pocket, and it was also the highlight of this evening. Although, now that he deliberated it, he would readily admit that listening to Bole and Derrick scream hysterically was just as high up there.
"Come. Closer."
Izar finally looked up.
The room they were in was large and white. Columns decorated the sides of the rooms, leading up toward a pedestal-like dais where the Dark Lord currently stood. The room looked like a ballroom perhaps, with the dais probably designed for elevated guests to dine. Only, instead of a dining table, a single chair sat on the platform.
Voldemort's chair.
Izar kept his eyes away from Voldemort, but moved forward. He came to a stop at the foot of the platform and was about to go to his knees until Voldemort stopped him.
"No. Closer. Next to my chair."
As the man sat back down, Izar obediently stepped upon the dais before kneeling next to Voldemort's legs. "My Lord?" he questioned carefully, not wanting to sound too submissive, but knowing he was already on thin ice with the man.
Voldemort leaned forward and reached for Izar's neck. The Ravenclaw stiffened as he felt the fingertips dance across his skin before curling around the edge of his mask. Carefully, his mask was pulled off to reveal his features.
"I had to see if it was really you beneath that mask," the man sounded amused. "So quiet and submissive tonight, child."
Grey-green eyes finally locked with crimson. He allowed his stubbornness to shine through, noticing the Dark Lord's answering smirk. "I am on your list of 'disfavorables', My Lord. I didn't want to take my chances. You were handing out Crucios rather freely tonight. Best if I keep my comments to myself."
His boldness earned a chuckle from Voldemort.
Fingernails lightly scratched Izar across the chin before taking a firm hold of his jaw and holding him in place.
"I find myself…torn over your involvement with Nott's reckless scheme." The Dark Lord's amusement faded. "On one hand, I am delighted you're taking a more active role in society, the Death Eaters particularly. You were undoubtedly the leader of this raid tonight, almost certainly preventing things from going completely erratic. Your leadership is looked highly upon by me."
Izar's jaw clenched, mindful of Voldemort's hold on his chin.
"On the other hand, I am disappointed."
And there was that disappointment that Izar had hoped to avoid altogether, yet here he was, kneeling before it, and forced to look at it dead in the eye.
"I would have believed you would have taken action against his naïve plans of revenge." The man's expression contorted into one of disapproval. "I did not believe them when they told me of your disappearance with the rest of them."
Izar averted his eyes. "He would have gone regardless, My Lord. He was emotional and unpredictable, I—"
"You should have stopped him."
"I—" The fingers tightened along his jawline, a warning. "I should have stopped him."
While Izar was looking everywhere but the Dark Lord, he was more than aware of the eyes observing him closely. The hand around his jaw was the only thing keeping him from rearing away when the Dark Lord suddenly leaned close, closing the distance between them.
He was forced to stare into gleaming, contemplative red eyes.
"I do have to question your intentions in accompanying them," Voldemort murmured quietly. "It is so far removed from your typical behavior, one must wonder what you got out of it." His eyes were ablaze as he searched Izar's expressionless face. "I could force my way inside your head and find out exactly why you went with them."
"You won't," Izar avowed, hoping to bloody Merlin he was right in calling the man's bluff. The wand in his pocket burned, reminding him of the priceless treasure he'd procured. He could not lose it.
He was so close to getting one up on Voldemort.
"No?" Voldemort offered a lipless smile. "And why not?"
Izar braced himself before looking the man firmly in the eye. "Because you enjoy this game we play so much, that you won't want to spoil it by cheating."
The impact of his daring words remained a mystery for quite some time, effectively putting Izar on edge. Voldemort's expression was entirely closed as he scrutinized him. He would either be immensely pleased at such a bold proclamation, or he would give out one of his Crucios for Izar's lip.
As it were, Voldemort's expression intensified and a predatory gleam settled in his gaze. His fingers tightened significantly across Izar's jaw, prompting the younger wizard to curl a hand around the man's wrist in defense. Red eyes dropped to the fingerless glove covering his left hand before looking back up at Izar.
"It is a pity you hide the claim."
Before Izar could make sense of those words, a voice interrupted from the doorway.
"My Lord."
Izar uncurled his hand quickly and shied away from Voldemort's reach as he dropped back to the ground.
Voldemort sighed exasperatedly as he turned to Lucius Malfoy. "Yes?" he drawled lazily. "Have you succeeded?"
Not only was Lucius Malfoy in the doorway, but so were several other members of the inner ring. Izar eyed the group of Death Eaters, quickly donning his mask in the process. Surprisingly, there were also a few silver masks scattered throughout the inner circle, attesting that Voldemort had wanted more than just his inner ranks present during the Auror ambush.
The Death Eaters stood a distance away from the Dark Lord, careful to show their submission in their postures. Bellatrix, however, was grinning madly in the corner, her dark eyes focused exclusively on Izar.
"A few Aurors are wounded, others got away," Lucius informed dutifully. His pale eyes danced across Izar before turning back to the Dark Lord. "As for our side, I'm happy to say only a few were wounded, none were captured or killed."
"Excellent," Voldemort praised smoothly. "Isn't that so, Izar?"
Izar bowed his head. "Yes, My Lord."
Snickers were heard throughout the hall, and Izar knew they were laughing at him. Because surely the Dark Lord had not seriously considered receiving Izar's opinion on the matter.
Voldemort patted him on the head, his fingers digging a bit too deep as they caressed his scalp. "Go find Severus, Izar, you should get back to Hogwarts before your absence is noted."
Izar scrambled away from the Dark Lord as fast as he could while still possessing his regality. With his head held high, he nearly made it to the exit when Bellatrix caught his eye. She chuckled under her breath and caressed her wand to her lips—clearly still anxious and uptight from the battle with the Aurors.
"How's daddy dearest?"
Not at all intimidated by her as he once was, Izar met her gaze. "He's doing well," he replied as he passed. "I will let him know you send your sincerest regards."
That earned a foul scowl from Bellatrix.
Izar hurried from the room without it being obvious, relieved when he caught sight of Professor Snape and the other students at the end of the hall.
He'd gotten away with it.
Merlin…he'd gotten away with it.
The wand sang triumphantly in his pocket.
It was time to go home.
