I had this chapter written early. It's shorter than usual, regrettably, and nothing much is going on, but it sets up for the next chapter— which will be Voldemort/Izar's first 'real' interaction among the Death Eaters.
Thanks for the reviews last chapter.
Enjoy.
Chapter Twenty Two
Izar had his trunk packed and ready for the holiday.
Because he had an hour to spare before the students would board the train, he decided he would visit Daphne in the Hospital Wing. After which, he would proceed down to the dungeons to speak with Snape and return the man's material. Izar exited the Ravenclaw Common Room and immediately noticed a change in atmosphere.
There was nothing dangerous happening; instead, the change was quiet, almost too quiet.
Adjusting the leather binder full of notes written in Professor Snape's handwriting, Izar quickly walked down the moving staircase. A Ravenclaw was walking up the opposite direction and openly stared.
Izar flashed the boy a deep sneer, causing the Ravenclaw's ears to turn red before hurriedly looking away. "Idiot," Izar muttered in distaste as he leaped from the stairs, arriving on the third floor landing.
As it happened, the Ravenclaw boy, a measly second year, wasn't the only one who was open about their observation of him. Izar wondered if it had to do with the Yule Ball incident. Daphne had gained consciousness the day after the Ball, groggy, but completely healthy. Her mind had been in decent shape, as sharp… or as sharp as it could be with Daphne. That was only yesterday. Surely rumors had spread that the Greengrass heir had awoken and was fine?
A group of three fourth year Slytherins looked up from the paper they were reading, catching his eye before bending over themselves, whispering. "Half-blood bastard," the boldest of them spat before hurriedly sweeping the opposite direction.
Izar's eyes zeroed in on the paper in one of the Slytherin's hands. Swallowing, Izar caught sight of his picture on the front. He was too far to read what lies and stories were spread about him this week. But the words they whispered…
Half-blood bastard.
Izar looked around, a bit frantic when other students turned away from him, as if they harbored a secret. It couldn't be… could it? Izar thought Regulus vowed to keep their parentage a secret. Was it Snape then? Riddle? Sirius?
Entering the Hospital Wing, he quickly shut the doors behind him. He could see Daphne further down in one of the beds, sipping on a goblet. As he approached, she took notice and coldly turned her head away. "What did I do now?" Izar demanded as he came to a stop by her bed.
Tears clung to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she narrowed her sights on Izar. "Why did you lie to me? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't tell you if I didn't even know myself," Izar drawled. "What are you blabbering about?"
She sniffed lightly, pointing to her bedside. He turned to look, his earlier suspicions confirmed as he read the headline above his picture.
Izar Harrison-Black?
"Rita Skeeter," Izar read out loud. "She wrote the damn article, of course she over exaggerates things just a bit." He added sarcastically. One look from Daphne proved the girl did not believe him. "Regulus is my father," Izar murmured darkly. "I just found out, Daphne. I couldn't have told you."
"She says your mother is Lily Potter."
"'Mother' is gong a bit too far, but yes, she delivered me." Izar reluctantly admitted. "And who is Skeeter's bloody source?"
Betrayed mossy green eyes looked at him in the eye. "Lily."
Izar issued an angry sigh, seeing red. The ghost of Regulus' words crossed his mind. She's stirring. With whispers of my return, she has gotten more active. I fear as if she will try to do something to split us up. "And?" Izar asked softly. "What is the main issue behind the article?" He didn't want to touch it. It was vile and most likely containing all lies.
Daphne gave her own sigh, almost as if she didn't want to speak to Izar, but willing to gossip. "It's a horrible article, really," she started darkly. "Lily claims that she put you up for adoption after a 'less-than-wise-affair'. Lily said she felt manipulated and violated. It didn't say rape in the article, but Skeeter was leaning toward that as she wooed her readers. Lily then continued claiming Regulus was dabbling deep into the Dark Arts like many of the Blacks before him."
Izar's jaw clenched. He could have sworn his tooth cracked. Not only was Lily spinning lies, but she was disgracing the Black family along with it.
"What else?" It came out short and cold, causing Daphne to start.
She blinked uncertainly at him, looking down to avoid eye contact with him. Her hands were curled into fists, her knuckles white. "Well, Lily said she feared for your life. Even with news that Regulus was murdered, she didn't believe he was gone forever. As a result, she put you in the orphanage to protect your identity. She claimed she was afraid to keep you because it would paint a target on you, attracting both Regulus' killers and the more deranged members of the Black family. But now, with the Tournament and your publicity, she knows Regulus has taken notice."
Daphne gave a long pause, her eyes narrowing. "Apparently, the Prophet claims Regulus was declared 'living' by the Ministry just a few weeks prior to this article."
Izar couldn't believe it. He laughed.
Daphne wiggled deeper into her sheets, her face pale.
"She's lying." Izar declared fiercely. "And she wants the wizarding world to take pity on her. But she won't be able to get Regulus," Izar shook his head, confident. "He's far more influenced then she is in the political scene."
The article was meant to cover her own arse when word got out that Izar was Regulus' son. She had taken the first step; she had spun her story first in order to look good to the public. How else could she explain her reasons of placing Izar in the orphanage? She claimed it was to keep him safe from Regulus' supposed killers and the more deranged members of the Black. How ingenious. He supposed she also hid her pregnancy to protect him.
"You met him then," Daphne whispered softly, as if she wanted to walk carefully around Izar. "Regulus? My father claimed he betrayed the Dark Lord years ago. And that he was supposed to be dead."
"Your father knows nothing," Izar hissed a bit too harshly. He felt a bit guilty when Daphne flinched at his tone. Softening his expression into a cool mask of indifference, he continued. "What happened between the Dark Lord and Regulus is between the two of them." He added quietly, far too soft for anyone to overhear.
Why was he defending Regulus so passionately? Izar knew Regulus could defend himself. But somehow, if felt as if Izar was being insulted when his father was.
"You're a Black," Daphne continued, as if she hadn't heard anything remotely important. Her eyes were a bit dazed as she looked at Izar. "And not just any Black. You're the Black heir, the direct heir to the family."
Izar turned his back to her, walking out the room. He couldn't deal with her idolized and crazed ramblings. Not now. "I'm glad you feel better," he called over his shoulder. "I need to see Professor Snape."
He ignored her as she called after him.
As he quickly swept from the Hospital Wing, he met the stares head on. His chin was lifted and his shoulders were strengthened with confidence. Let them talk. The children didn't understand the things around them. If they took a 'gossip' columnist's article seriously, then he had every right to disregard them and their opinions. They couldn't think for themselves. And quite frankly, Izar was confident in his father to straighten things out and point the finger in Lily's direction within a few days.
And if Rita bloody Skeeter came to him, Izar would speak his mind, albeit calmly and poised. It wouldn't do to have the public seem him affected by this article. If they saw him angry, they would mostly likely think they could get to him easily.
A few Slytherin's snickered at his back, and Izar smirked.
Let them laugh.
Raising his knuckles, he knocked on the potions master's doors.
"Enter." The man's silky and cold voice called from inside.
Izar entered the dark and damp room. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness before he shut the door behind him, closing off any form of light. For a few moments, he watched the potions professor dance from one cauldron to the next, his nose almost touching the liquid inside as he sniffed the product. His nimble fingers stirred the solutions in precise circles as his lips mouthed the number of clockwise stirs he needed to complete.
In the darkened room, Snape appeared to be that of an elegant bat. Only his sharp features, lightened by the small flames, gave away the fact that he was human.
Izar's nerves settled in the malodorous and thick room. He inhaled, his eyes fluttering closed for just a mere second. "The antidote for the Swelling Solution and…" Izar paused, inhaling. "And a Blood-Replenishing Potion."
Snape didn't startle at Izar's sudden presence; instead, the man leaned down to turn the flame on low. "Good morning, Mister… dare I say it, Black?" The man finally turned around abruptly, his dark eyes reducing into fathomless holes in the already darkened room.
He scoffed. Of course Snape had read the article already. "Whatever keeps you sane, professor," Izar murmured.
The corner of Snape's mouth lifted as he slowly approached Izar. "What do I owe this pleasure?" As he asked, his gaze landed on the leather-bound book in Izar's hands. Snape raised his eyebrows. "Have you already trialed through my notes?"
Izar opened the book, his eyes on the perfect calligraphy of Snape. The man had written good trial and error potions for trying to eliminate and manipulate the Dark Mark. "You had some very interesting theories, professor. I can't express my utter amazement at some of your potion inventions." Izar began. His eyes were full of stars for the man's brilliant mind. "But I believe I have found my solution to the Dark Mark. Not in potion form." Izar snapped the binder shut and offered it to Snape.
The man paused for a brief moment before taking the notes back from Izar. "You believe you have found the solution? But you aren't certain?"
"No," Izar started softly. "I'm more than certain."
Shapely eyebrows heightened. "Enlighten me."
Izar contemplated. Should he tell Snape? The man had tried for years to manipulate the Dark Mark, only to be distracted with his teachings to finish his experiments. Surely the man wouldn't go to the Dark Lord with the information.
"Can I trust you?" Izar asked quietly. "You aren't so faithful to the Dark Lord that you'd go to him with this." It wasn't so much a question then a statement. The man, after all, had done his own betrayal to the Dark Lord throughout the years.
Snape gave a lipless smile. "I find no harm in experimenting, Mr. Black. Your mind is always curious. I can only help but to sate it."
Izar nodded sharply. Snape was an Occlumens; the man's mind would be just as protected. "I've been reading," he started off. Snape raised another eyebrow, not surprised with that remark. Izar smirked before continuing. "I came across the Protean Charm. As you know, the Protean Charm links several objects together for a common purpose."
Snape's face was impassive.
"I theorized that the Dark Lord uses a form of the Protean Charm to link all the Death Eaters together by the Dark Mark. But…" Izar trailed off, a smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. "What, exactly, is the common factor to each Dark Mark?"
"The Dark Lord," Snape supplied.
"Yes and no," Izar continued. "The Dark Lord commands the Dark Marks. But what, specifically, does he use to command those Dark Marks?"
Onyx eyes gleamed. "His wand."
Izar smiled. "Yes. He uses the Protean Charm entwined with his own spell he invented, 'Morsmordre'. The Dark Lord is the only wizard who brands his Death Eaters, or more specifically, his wand is the only wand that creates the Dark Marks on their arms. The wand, in turn, links them all together for a common purpose. He uses this wand to cause pain through the Mark."
"It is ingenious," Snape murmured, his expression focused elsewhere. "It's his own invented spell, but his wand is the item, or object, he uses to influence the Marks." Snape then turned back to Izar. "And what do you purpose? A sort of curse-breaker?"
Izar cocked his head to the side, forlorn. "That would be far more logical than my… brash actions," he concluded. "Instead, I went the easier path and decided to find out exactly what the Dark Lord's wand core was. And the type of wood his wand has."
Snape's lips twitched. "And how did you go about that?"
The Ravenclaw shrugged. "I broke into Ollivanders." Onyx eyes looked down disapprovingly at Izar. "But," Izar continued silkily. "I obtained something much more valuable than just mere information. I was able to acquire the brother to his wand. It shares the exact same core as his own."
Snape swept past Izar, slowly pacing. His expression was knotted. "Did you attempt to manipulate the Mark as of yet?"
"No," Izar subconsciously rubbed the Dark Mark through his robes. "Every time I hold his wand, though, I can feel the ward around the Mark. It's not very surprising. He invented the spell himself. He was smart enough to put a ward up. It's very Dark. But I believe, with the brother to his wand, I can disband the ward. But I decided I should wait until the holidays, when I'm in the Malfoy Manor, just in case something were to happen…"
He trailed off when he saw the dark expression on his professor's face. The man was still pacing, thinking deeply.
"What?" Izar demanded spitefully. He had an inkling he knew what the man was thinking.
"While I applaud you for uncovering the properties of the Dark Mark, you've overstepped some expansive boundaries. If the Dark Lord were ever to find out you have stolen such information— not only personal information, but also stolen the brother to his wand, he will be far from entertained. I should also express my concerns with the ward he has constructed around the Dark Mark. I wouldn't put it past the man to make the ward unattainable to break—,"
"You sound like Regulus," Izar pointed out, put off by the man's thinkings.
Snape turned to him. "Perhaps you need my added supervision when your father is not here. Regulus will not be pleased if he hears of this."
"I need your assistance if I need it, sir, not supervision. Regulus, while he's my father, cannot run what I do."
He broke off as Snape took him by the shoulders. His expression mirrored Izar's; determination. "Most wizards struggle with the fact that they are branded and owned by the Dark Lord. It is a price to pay for following the man. It is especially difficult to those who are independent. I think breaking the ward over the Dark Mark will not go well."
Izar frowned at his professor. "If I wasn't Regulus' son," he started off softly. "Would you still discourage me from doing this?"
Snape, his hands still on Izar's shoulders, hesitated. His eyes were eye level with Izar and he continued to gaze into them. "I can only express my concerns, Mr. Black. And I will continue to do so. However, I understand your thirst for succeeding in this area of magic. I cannot stop you. I can only provide my services if you shall need them."
Izar nodded, pleased. "Will you be at the Malfoy Manor this holiday, sir?"
"I do not believe so, no," Snape removed his hands and slowly walked back to his cauldrons.
"I'd like you there," Izar spoke crisply. He walked up to the counter behind Snape. His fingers lightly played with the cold leather of Snape's folder of notes. Through his lashes, he gouged for Snape's reaction as he continued silkily. "And I think Regulus would as well."
Snape's shoulders stiffened and he looked at Izar over his shoulder, spying the Ravenclaw's impish expression. The man's mouth twisted into a grimace. "Get out of here, you insolent child." Izar smirked as he turned from the potions room. "Little brats," the man continued spitefully as he continued to throw himself in his works.
"I can say the same about denial-harboring adults," Izar called out softly, shutting the door before the man could throw a hex.
{Death of Today}
"I can just feel your excitement from here, Izar," Draco drawled. "You look as if you're heading to your own funeral."
Izar looked over at Draco, not amused. "Perhaps I am," he murmured as the limousine came to a stop in front of a large manor. It really was spectacular, Izar would readily admit. It was immense with arches and small towers at each corner. The gardens, even from the car, were exotic and well taken care of. Even his orphanage wasn't half the size as the Malfoy Manor. There were several dozen children that lived there, and yet, only three Malfoy's lived in their castle.
"Come on," Draco stepped from the limousine.
Izar reluctantly stepped out from the luxurious car. Lucius and Narcissa were not at the platform when they arrived at King's Cross. Draco informed Izar that they were busy seeing to their guests. When Izar had asked just how many guests were there, Draco had smiled softly and exclaimed…
"Just a few," Izar commented dryly as he witnessed a group of children running around the front of the manor and disappearing around the back.
"Just a few," Draco repeated smugly.
Suddenly, he took hold of Izar's wrist and ran toward the wrought-iron gates. Izar stiffened as they continued to run full speed toward the gates. But then he realized there must have been a charm on it, allowing a selected number of people to go through them. As predicted, they crossed the gate barrier as if the iron were merely smoke.
Draco turned, a grin to his face, only to frown in irritation when he spotted Izar's less than thrilled expression. "You know, it's not fun that you know so much about magic. Who would have thought, a Muggle raised orphan would know so much…" Draco kept his hand locked around Izar's wrist as he pulled the younger boy forward.
Izar observed the domineering manor as they approached closer. It was a handsome built manor, one that had a bit of a gothic flair to its architecture.
When they walked up the perfectly structured steps and into the manor, Izar could only blink. He was overwhelmed by the amount of richery and design put in place in the Malfoy Manor. The front entrance way was full of silk tapestry and mighty portraits. Everywhere he looked, there was something to see and observe. His naturally curious mind had trouble noting all the objects and textures littered about.
The floors were dark wood, glossy and scratch free. Persian and other expensive rugs decorated the floors and there were a few stone pillars structured throughout the gothic-themed manor. Gold brushed candle holders stretched high as their candles dripped of burning wax. The frames of the portraits were gold and flawless as they glimmered and gleamed. Oil lamps were in place, even their simple structure didn't seem so simple in the manor.
Even the walls had decorative carvings into their dark wood. It was awe-inspiring.
As they entered deeper into the manor, Izar took note of the many marble fireplaces burning away. Their mantles were expansive and broad, the sheer size intimidating a short Izar. "Now you're amazed," Draco commented smugly. "It is rather a sight to behold, isn't it?"
Gilt mirrors and ornate furniture dressed the rooms. "It is beautiful," Izar agreed.
"Thank you, Mr. Black," a masculine voice approached them from behind. Izar turned, observing Lucius Malfoy as the man gracefully made his way from the depths of the manor. Izar hadn't even gotten past the front rooms and he was already impressed by the manor. Further down the many corridors, he could hear the voices of wizards and witches.
Lucius' state of dress could rival that of the manor. It looked as if the man had walked out from the manor's walls. His ice-blonde hair fell past his shoulders and his equally cold eyes washed the length of Izar's body.
"However," the man drawled pleasantly. "I'm only certain the Black Manors can uphold their name to the Malfoy Manor." Draco dropped Izar's wrist as his father neared. Lucius caught the gesture and raised a fine eyebrow.
Izar gave a small bow at the waist. "Mr. Malfoy, thank you for inviting me to your home this holiday."
"No need to be so formal, my boy," Lucius purred. His walking stick switched hands as he stretched out his right hand in greeting toward Izar. "It is only a pleasure that you could make it. Your father also…" The man added as an after thought, just to be polite.
Izar looked at the hand, noting the family ring on his finger. He thought it amusing, how rich the Malfoy's were. They all but dripped of money and gold. And they were not bashful in showing off their wealth.
He shook the hand, marveling at Lucius' tight grip. Izar prided himself with shaking hands firmly, but certainly not that firmly. The man gave a predatory smile at Izar before turning his attention on his son. "Draco," the man greeted coolly. His hand landed on Draco's shoulder, a way of greeting his son. Izar noted how much the two looked alike. Both were pale and blonde and they shared the pointed features. "I trust you are well?"
Izar observed their formal greeting. He wondered what Lucius would think if the man knew Regulus favored hugging as greeting.
"And you had trouble pinpointing the boy as a Black, Lucius? My, you must be slipping."
Turning, Izar watched a tall, elegant woman enter the room. She carried herself similar to that of Daphne; poised, elegant, and very feminine. Izar also noted the Black features and guessed that this was Narcissa Malfoy née Black.
Lucius gave a light grimace at her retort, watching as she set her eyes on Izar. "Forgive me for already stating what you've likely heard before, Izar, but you look remarkably like the Blacks." She took his hand in both of hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes caught Lucius' over his head. "Though, perhaps it's just a gift among the Blacks to distinguish each other among the crowd. It seems as if other lines lack that observation." She teased her husband.
"Now, Narcissa, the boys just arrived." Lucius scolded softly. "Surely you don't want to give Izar a wrong impression of our marriage?"
Draco and Izar shared a look, the blonde boy rolling his eyes upward. Narcissa chose not to respond. Instead, she continued to Draco and gave the boy a quick hug despite her son's reluctance at the gesture.
Hugs.
It must be a Black trait as well.
"The Dark Lord is out back," Lucius started, his eyes focused specifically on Izar. "Surely you wish to greet him?" Izar felt his stomach coil at the thought of socializing with the Dark Lord. Couldn't he just avoid the man for eternity? The thought of speaking to Riddle when Izar felt so distrustful of the man, was not comforting. Though he supposed that if there were people around, Izar could easily act as a loyal Death Eater. There was no intimacy, no personal discussions, with so many observers.
Narcissa tisked. "They need to eat first, Lucius."
"There is food out back," Lucius countered, his hand on Izar's shoulder. "The Dark Lord has asked me to bring Izar to him once he arrives."
Bloody wonderful. Izar could hardly contain his tremendous excitement at dancing with the man in public, with all his Death Eaters surrounding him. Izar vividly remembered the way they had laughed at him after seeing him with the Dark Lord. They thought he was nothing but a joke, a mere amusement to the Dark Lord. And while Izar could handle himself expertly in that situation, if it were to happen again, he just found himself irritable at the sound of taunting laughter.
"Let me go show him his room first, father," Draco intercepted. "I will deliver him outside as soon as we are finished."
Interestedly, Izar watched as Lucius' resolved expression softened. "Alright," Lucius conceded. His hand let Izar go as he shooed them up the winding staircase. "Make it quick. He is impatient today."
Before Izar could get over his shock at Lucius' soft spot for Draco, he was being pulled up the staircase. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Izar called, pulling away from Draco and looking over the railing at the two blondes. Once he had their full attention, Izar continued. "Is Regulus here?"
Lucius' lip curled at the mention of Regulus but Narcissa gave a small smile. "He is not, Izar. But he will be here, most certainly. He gave me his word."
Izar nodded sharply, allowing Draco to pull at him again. He told himself he wasn't disappointed. It had been a whole month since he'd seen Regulus. But the man already told Izar he was adjusting a few things before he could comfortably live amongst the wizarding world. Apparently he was warding the manors again, cleaning them and making them useable.
"Come on, you're incredibly slow today," Draco murmured. "Your room is near mine. Your father's room is adjoined to yours as well. You won't be surrounded by any of the guests. West wing is typically used for 'family'."
"How long are the guests going to stay here? All holiday break?"
Draco made a face. "No," he sniffed, turning his nose upwards as if Izar's question had insulted him. "The manor should cleared out by Christmas day. After which, only we are left."
Christmas day was in two days.
Even from upstairs, Izar could still hear the guests' endless chatter and fake chortles.
Surely… surely Izar could control himself from killing a few guests by then.
