{Notes} The beginning of this chapter is… a mess. It was intentionally done that way to reflect Izar's inner thoughts and feelings.
Thanks for the reviews last chapter!
Chapter Thirty Two
"Is… is he going to be ok?" Daphne whispered. She was near tears as she crouched down near Izar, looking at his unresponsive face.
Regulus sighed softly, his hand still holding that of his son's. He locked eyes with Izar's charcoal-green. The boy was awake, yet he had reverted into his mind, not seeing anything, not feeling anything, only watching. The boy was shattered completely.
"Madam Pomfrey confirmed that there was brain activity inside," Regulus began hesitantly. "He was not Kissed, yet he has withdrawn himself mentally." Which is to be expected. Izar had been through a lot this year; Regulus was just astonished that Izar had lasted so long. It was an odd sensation… he wanted to take away his son's pain, his torment, and smother him. But he knew smothering Izar was the last thing he should be doing.
The Malfoy heir moved closer to Izar, his face twisted in bemusement. He reached out a hand and waved it in front of Izar's face. As predicted, Izar was unblinking as he stared forward, not even a muscle twitching at the blonde's actions.
"Malfoy," Daphne hissed, her cheeks blossoming with crimson. "You're a callous bastard."
Just like his father, Draco turned his heel and stared down the young witch in front of him. Lucius was known for looking down his nose to those who insulted him. "It wasn't meant to be a callous gesture, Greengrass, I was just curious to see how far he was gone." Draco lifted his nose, sniffing.
Regulus issued another sigh, shaking his head. He couldn't handle children tempers and he couldn't handle the harsh truth that Izar was, indeed, gone. "Please, why don't you two come back in a few days? He just woke up this morning, I will send word if his condition has changed." He bluffed lightly, not intending to share Izar with anyone more than he needed to.
Regulus had woken this morning, stiff from his position in his chair, only to see that Izar's stunning eyes were open. His hopes had fallen when he tried to speak with his son. Izar had only looked at him in child-like wonder, blinking only when his eyes needed the moisture. Blinking and swallowing were the only signs that Izar was alive and not a pretty corpse. Even his eyes had lost their usual liveliness. Madam Promfrey had informed Regulus that Izar's state was normal for patients withdrawn in their own minds.
The worst was far from over.
Leaning forward, Regulus cupped Izar's hand tighter, ignoring the two Slytherins as they quietly left him.
-----
His brother placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Regulus, his face showing signs of his emotional state, smiled grimly up at Sirius. "You need a shave, little brother," Sirius mused fondly, reaching over to scratch Regulus' growing goatee.
It had been three days since Izar had woken up without signs that he hadn't been Kissed.
Regulus had remained stubbornly at his son's side. He ate what he needed to, slept awkwardly in the bed next to his son, and showered quickly— always rushing to get back to Izar's side. But there was never any change. Izar was a stubborn boy. He would come out of his mind when he was ready.
Sirius leaned down toward Izar, giving a roguish smile. "Hey there buddy," Sirius managed as Izar stared back at him listlessly.
Regulus held his breath as Izar blinked at Sirius before turning his head away from the two and toward the door of the infirmary. Was it a response? Was Izar finally managing to break through the barrier he set up to protect himself?
Looking up, Regulus found himself scowling darkly when he saw who stood a few paces away from Izar's bed. Riddle's stance was as calm as his expression. His attention was only for the figure in the bed. The Undersecretary had his hands clasped behind his back as his eyes drank Izar's face almost obsessively.
"Izar?" Regulus stood up, peering down at his son. The boy had reacted for Riddle, how ironic that Izar could feel him even in his current state. "Izar," he called again softly.
His son began to shake uncontrollably as he kept his languid attention on Riddle. Quiet whimpers escaped the child's dried lips as he continued to tremble. Somehow, deep within himself, Izar knew Riddle was standing near—the very wizard who was to blame for his current position.
Damning the consequences, Regulus placed his arm in front of Izar's face, blocking the two's exchange. "Get out," Regulus whispered angrily. "Get out, damnit!"
Riddle finally tore his attention away from the lithe figure on the bed and considered Regulus calmly, darkly. Regulus decided it was Sirius' presence that held Riddle's tongue, for the Dark Lord in disguise offered one last cool look before turning his heel and escaping the infirmary.
Regulus found himself shaking just as frenziedly as his son.
{Death of Today}
With a shudder, he snapped his eyes open to nothing but darkness. He made a noise of disagreement, lost, dizzy, scared, and unsure of where he was. His body trembled and he issued a series of terrified noises in his throat.
"Please…" he whispered brokenly. He clawed at the darkness, unsure of what was waiting for him on the other side of the blackness.
In the deepest recess of his mind, he could feel the slight pull to his right side. How did he know there was someone slumbering beside his bedside? It was almost… almost if he could sense them, their magic. But how? How was that possible?
He shook, the soft ground beneath him becoming damp with the quantity of sweat he exuded.
"Izar?"
The young boy flinched harshly as a hand touched him. Desolately, he couldn't escape the hand… their hands. They were everywhere; cold, unfeeling, callous… they were so cold. Almost burning. Izar made a noise of disagreement as the hand came at him again. As he felt the fingers curl around his arm, he screamed hysterically.
"Izar!" The voice shouted once again, this time, almost as hysterically as his own scream.
That name was familiar to him, he should have known it. Was it his own? Yes… yes it was his own. Izar Harrison. Or. Izar Black. Or freak. That's what they called him. They—the children at the orphanage. But why would the Dementor be speaking to him like a human? With concern in their voice? Dementors didn't speak.
Izar screamed as the darkness consumed him, thrashing around as hands held him down to the soft ground beneath him.
Candles flared to life, casting light around his outer vision. But Izar was still cast in the shadows, unable to tear himself away from the Dementors, the darkness… the memories. Oh, the memories. Memories… He cried out, struggling against the strong hold. Even if the corners of his vision were cast in light, the vision directly in front of him was dark, void. The hands holding him down were a rotting grey and cold, burning.
Always cold.
Quick footsteps made their way closer to Izar. He panicked, clawing at the Dementor above him. He fought. He wouldn't allow himself to be drowned in tormenting memories again. No. Not this time. His fingers reached out and his nails scratched across soft flesh. But why would his Dementor have soft skin? Shouldn't it be rotting? Why would there be hair stubble across the skin?
"Izar please," the Dementor crooned and the hands remained strong. Strong, but not painfully unyielding. The touch on his arms slowly became a comfortable warm—not as hot as the chilling cold they once were. "Please, my son." Warm breath tickled the side of Izar's ear. "You're safe with me, I will never harm you."
Izar's pulse slowed and his vision slowly brightened. A man panted above him, looking more afraid than exhausted. The short goatee, the black hair… charcoal eyes…
"F-father," Izar whispered vulnerably.
The man paused above him, looking surprised before he cleared his expression to that of warm concern. Yes, Izar remembered now. Regulus, he was Regulus. Izar had never called Regulus 'father' before, it would have surprised the man above him. Nonetheless, Regulus nodded, appearing relieved.
"Yes, my son. You're alright, everything is fine," the man soothed softly, reaching forward and stroking Izar's cheek.
The younger pulled away, breathing shallowly as he tried to make sense of everything. He wasn't laying on soft ground. Instead, it was a cot in the Hospital Wing. His eyes blinked as he adjusted to the light of the candles, seeing the other beds in the room and the woman standing near. She was familiar as well…
Izar shut his eyes, shuddering. Madam Pomfrey. It was her name and he grasped at the memories.
"Regulus," the woman began hesitantly. "Should I get a claming draught?"
"No Poppy, he'll be just fine."
Izar pursed his lips. A calming draught was a potion. A potion that he learned in Potions class—the class with the hooked nose Professor Snape. A class at Hogwarts… the same school that was hosting the Triwizard Tournament. He knew. It was slowly coming back to him. Everything was trying to break through the hazy shield in his mind, a shield he knew he had constructed himself to forget. To forget everything. But most of the things he stored away couldn't get past the shields.
He didn't want to remember, he wouldn't.
He inhaled noisily as Regulus reached for him again. Everything was too hazy and confusing, but he leaned into the embrace, burying his face into his father's shoulder.
Somewhere, behind the shield he constructed, he knew he should have never showed such vulnerability. He was stronger than this, or, he assumed he was. But that was a distant memory right now. Right now, there was someone here who wanted to comfort him, to share his pain.
As the curtains shut around the bed, giving them privacy, Regulus laid down next to Izar on the bed, holding him close.
"Don't retreat into your mind again, Izar," Regulus whispered softly as he noticed Izar's stiffness. "I don't know if I can handle seeing you in such a state again." His arms linked with Izar's as he brushed his son's hair. "No matter how painful it is to remember, you must accept what happened. I'm right here with you, there will be no more Dementors."
Izar clutched at Regulus' front robes, looking up at his father through lowered lashes. "It's all…fuzzy…" he admitted, sounding childish. Somewhere within his mind, another part of himself winced at how small he sounded.
Regulus leaned forward, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. "That is to be expected," the man conceded. "You just need to break that barrier. Madam Pomfrey and Severus claimed you would need to break the barrier in order to remember everything."
Izar eyed the man distrustfully. That didn't sound right. Why would Regulus even consider something as painful as that? "If I break it, I'll have to remember it all… all of it." He looked down at their interlocking arms. The thought of remembering all of the pain made him frightened, scared. "Why can't I just stay like this?" he asked innocently.
Regulus' face crumbled and he pressed Izar's face into his shoulder. The man seemed to struggle internally with himself, almost if he debated on telling Izar he needed to break the barrier or not. "If you want to stay like this, Izar, than I cannot fault you. No matter what you decide, I will always be with you," the man whispered in confession.
His father didn't sound remotely convinced. But Izar wanted to stay like this. He didn't want to remember his past self. Trouble and pain only seemed to accompany him. Why would he want to revert back to his old self and go through that much pain again? If he stayed this way, in this child-like state, he would be protected and sheltered. He wouldn't have to deal with anything too difficult. He would be oblivious to everything around him.
He liked that.
He liked that security and comfort.
But… why did it feel as if he never felt this security before? Why did it make him unsettled to depend on his father for protection?
Izar sighed into his father, inhaling the man's scent. As he looked down, exhausted, his eyes caught sight of his left hand. Furrowing his brows, Izar wondered why it was so troubling seeing his left hand naked, exposed. Why did he feel so surprised and horrified to see his hand? He didn't understand the dark sensation when he looked at his bare skin. He did, however, notice the Celtic band on his finger.
What was it for again?
Izar's face furrowed as a memory slipped from the barrier and to the forefront of his mind.
He remembered seeing himself in a black ice-like maze. But there were differences to this Izar…
This Izar had short sleeves. On the mirror image's left forearm, Voldemort's Dark Mark sat, appearing blacker than ever. This Izar had no fingerless glove upon his left hand and it revealed the Celtic band to Voldemort. The other Izar also slumped, appearing shorter than usual… but the eyes were the most noticeable difference. While they were still charcoal-green, they had no brightness to them. They were defeated… submissive.
Izar flinched; struggling against himself when he remembered the memory was that of a boggart… he remembered vowing to himself that fear would never come to pass. There would never be a time he would be so defeated—a failure.
With dread weighing in his stomach, Izar looked up and into Regulus' eyes. He saw himself reflected back in the man's pupils. Gazing within the eyes, Izar saw himself as a small child, a small defeated, lost child who depended too much on others.
It was his fear coming to play. The boggart had won.
Izar tipped back his head, screaming as he mentally shattered the barrier in his mind.
He would always keep his promises to himself.
The memories raced forward, drowning him.
Leaning forward in Regulus' arms, he began to weep.
{Death of Today}
The rain was like a balm to his mind.
The young wizard sat peacefully on a stone bench on top the tower, raising his face toward the sky. Even through closed eyelids, he could see the warm golden hue of the sun. The weather was beautiful out today, matching Izar's peaceful and serene mood. The rain was a slight drizzle, yet the clouds in the sky weren't dark and overbearing. Instead, they were highlighted by the bright sun, setting the sky in a golden hue.
Izar inhaled deeply, trying to block out the cheers below as the Beauxbatons carriages flew off into the horizon and the ship for the Durmstrang students sunk into the lake. A part of him wanted to say a farewell to Cyprien and, surprisingly, Steinar. Both Champions had survived the Death Eater attack with nothing but a few bumps and bruises. In Steinar's case, a few locks of hair had been cut off as he was found unconscious in his ship's bedroom.
Izar had a feeling he would see them in the distant future.
Sighing softly, he shivered as he felt a lone raindrop slide down the length of his face.
The past two weeks had been spent in isolation. The only people he came in contact with were the test examiners for the NEWTs and Regulus and Sirius. A few days before the NEWTs had begun Dumbledore had approached him and informed Izar that the Board of Governors made a special exception for him to take the NEWTs whenever he wished. Izar had quietly denied, claiming he was ready to take them despite the current events.
He hadn't studied and he hadn't been very prepared, but he believed he had passed with enough points to be worth something. Perhaps not with the top marks he wanted, but at least he was done, done with Hogwarts…
After every exam session, Izar hurried from the crowded halls of Hogwarts and disappeared into Sirius' chambers. Regulus resided inside his brother's private chambers and tried to keep Izar company. Most the time, Izar sat quietly on his bed, trying to put his tattered mind together. Other times, when he was feeling particularly stable, he ventured out of his room and sat with Regulus and Sirius.
His mind was still fragile. And it would take a while to heal mentally, physically, and emotionally.
Regulus seemed to recognize Izar's fragility, for he came up with a solution.
Izar, Regulus, and Sirius were disappearing for three months. Originally, it was just going to be Regulus and Izar, but Sirius had tagged along at the last minute. The three were going to travel to a few Black estates around the world, never staying in one place for too long. No one knew of their plans, save for Owen Welder, the Head Unspeakable. Izar had owled the man and informed him he wouldn't be at work for the course of the summer. Izar also let the man know he had graduated early and planned to be at the Ministry year round.
Despite Welder knowing Izar would be absent from work, the man knew nothing more.
The three Blacks wanted to keep it a secret. They wouldn't be interrupted when Izar was healing. The young Black heir knew it was probably the worse time to leave the wizarding world behind, but he knew he had to recover from this… this situation.
What happened this past year would make him stronger, he knew as much. It would probably alter him into a different wizard… but right now, he still felt like a newborn kitten; useless, vulnerable, and dependent.
The memories from his orphanage had been the most difficult to face up to. Ever since Hogwarts started five years ago, Izar had buried the traumatic events in the back of his mind, only keeping his hate for Muggles in the forefront. Whenever he remembered what happened at the orphanage, he was reminded how helpless he had been to their assault. When he looked back at the horrifying events, he felt tarnished and weak.
He never wanted to feel weak and helpless again. Regulus had been near when Izar recounted some of the memories. His father was a solid body in his world at the moment. Izar wasn't sure if he was frightened of such a strong bond or relieved that his father was there with him.
Izar tipped his head back down, rain dropping from the tip of his nose. Next to him, his fingers ran through the owl's feathers. Through hooded eyes, he watched as the clouds slowly began to clear up.
The hardest thing to come to terms with, with the exception of the orphanage memories, had been the betrayal. Even if he found it hard to admit, Izar had trusted Lord Voldemort. They always had a shaky relationship, but it had gotten stronger through the course of the year. Trusting such a powerful dark wizard was always difficult for Izar. He never liked authority in his childhood and he never trusted adults. To form a trust with Voldemort had been alien and unsteady at best.
Now… now the bond had snapped and severed completely. Right now, in Izar's mental state, he didn't think he would ever be able to trust the man again.
He wondered if he would feel the same in a few months from now, after an extended stay away from Voldemort.
Regulus had informed Izar that his Dark Mark was uncovered in front of Dumbledore, Fudge, Snape, and Voldemort. Izar knew it would eventually be uncovered for Voldemort, hence the reason he had altered the Mark into such a provocative image. It was arrogant and cheeky on Izar's behalf. When he altered the Mark, he knew he would possibly be punished and that's why he changed the mark into a scantly clad female. It would have served as some humor through his pain.
Right now, he didn't think it was so amusing.
Izar sighed, feeling the aura close in on him. He didn't expect Voldemort to stay away, especially when Regulus informed him that Riddle had visited on a few occasions when he was in the infirmary.
But he wasn't ready to face the man. Any manipulations the Dark Lord would twist today may affect and take hold of Izar in his weakened state.
Quickly grabbing the pouch of gold coins, Izar read over the small bit of parchment he placed inside the velvet money bag.
For the repayment I owed you.
Dumbledore had given Izar the Triwizard award money under the radar. The Headmaster hadn't thought it was appropriate to throw a celebration for Izar when the French were grieving for their Minister. Izar had agreed, accepting the money with numbness. He hadn't wanted to keep the money of the Tournament, the very same Tournament that brought him so much pain. Instead, he decided to give it to the one man he owed.
"Bring this to Ollivander, girl," Izar murmured softly to the owl.
Riddle's aura was closing on him and Izar tied the pouch around the owl's leg. The tawny owl gave a hoot before taking off into the sky.
Izar hunched in on himself, curling his arms around his stomach when he heard the man come to a stop next to him. He tried to hide his hands from the man's view. They were trembling, as was his insides. He couldn't do this; he couldn't face the man so early.
But he would because he had to.
"Congratulations," Izar spoke softly, watching as the owl flew through the sky. He remained facing forward, unable to meet the man's eyes. "From what I've heard, the Dark Lord's debut was a thrilling spectacle." He tried to pitch his voice in sarcasm, but it was too weak, too shaky to be anything biting.
"Many thanks to you," the man replied. "After all, it was your invention that aided to the success."
Izar bowed his head toward his knees, struggling to pull himself together. He could feel the blood drain from his face and his body began to shudder as he thought back to his Portkey. Breathing raggedly, Izar smiled bitterly. Yes, it was his own invention that destroyed his mind. How… ironic.
Silence spread across the two. If Riddle was waiting for Izar to respond, the man must be rather thick. Izar didn't want to speak to him, not in the least.
"There are many things I could have done differently, Izar."
Izar's eyes flashed and he turned to point his finger at the man. "You fucked up, you hear me? You destroyed me. Or perhaps that was your plan all along. I would never know, you never tell me anything."
Riddle stood calmly near the bench Izar sat at, not seemingly affected by the Ravenclaw's words. But why would he be? He was higher up than Izar; Izar was just a bloody joke to the man. "I can see that you're… a bit torn. However, it's not something that can't be healed. I can help you with your mind—,"
Izar gave a dry laugh, shaking his head as he turned away from the man. "If you think I'd trust you enough to let you in my mind, you have another thing coming to you." Izar breathed deeply, trying to calm his shaking body.
"I sent Avery to imitate Steinar because he was one of my best duelists. He's been in my Inner Circle since I was a boy at Hogwarts. I trusted him to inform you of the dangers of touching the Cup. I intended him to bind you, but I can see that I underestimated and overestimated both you and him. You bested him in a duel and I put too much trust in one of my followers. A mistake that will never be repeated."
Izar shook his head again, a bit too sharply as his neck snapped. "He hated me over Yuletide. Couldn't you see that was a rather unwise decision?" He found himself rocking back and forth on the bench, twitching. He couldn't help it. The more he tried to calm his shaking, the harder it became.
"I believed his loyalty to me would have outweighed his hate for you." There was a dark edge to the man's voice and Izar rocked back and forth quicker. "Clearly I was wrong."
"And?" Izar whispered, slowly feeling himself withdraw once again. He just had to know. He had to. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me the whole Tournament was a mockery? Why did you encourage me to win the bloody thing if it would have ended up killing me?"
He continued to rock.
Riddle stepped forward, reaching for Izar. The Black heir gave a breathless gasp as he pulled away like a frightened animal. "Don't touch me," Izar hissed fiercely. He looked into the expressionless eyes of Riddle. "I'll tell you when I'm ready for that step."
The Dark Lord, sitting on his haunches before Izar, lifted his hands in surrender. He was watching Izar closely, too closely.
"You're mind and eyes are an open book, child. When I use Legilimency, I harm my victims. I enjoy the brutal rape of the mind. On the other spectrum, there is Dumbledore. He does not favor my cruel amusement with Legilimency. When he uses Legilimency, his victims who aren't skilled in Occlumency are none the wisest at his probing. His reach into like mind resembles smoke as it slips unnoticed."
Riddle paused, reaching again for Izar. This time, his hand closed around Izar's knee, tightening. Izar sat motionless, somewhere in his mind, he was listening to the man's explanation, but outwardly, he was gone. Riddle hadn't told him about his plans for the Tournament because Izar wasn't skilled in Occlumency.
Why must Izar be so weak? Why couldn't he learn Occlumency? Why couldn't he stand taller?
Occlumency was one of his most desired talents to learn. He had tried many years to construct barriers in his mind against Legilimens, but every time, he had failed. It was similar to dueling; only, he had gotten better at dueling. Why couldn't Occlumency be the same?
"If I would have told you about the Cup and the Tournament, he would have seen that in your mind. He was constantly looking into your mind, Izar," Riddle paused, allowing it to sink in. "I also wanted you to try your hardest during the First and Second Task. If you would have known it to be a farce, you wouldn't have put all your effort into the Tasks. I wanted your debut to the wizarding world to be positive."
Izar stared down at his fingerless glove. The Celtic band on his finger bound his virginity to the man before him, but it also protected the secret of Voldemort' status as a creature. If Dumbledore looked into Izar's mind, he would only see muddled information that was meaningless. Why couldn't Voldemort have used a similar protection and told Izar before the Third Task not to touch the Cup?
Fury laced Izar's belly as Voldemort curled both hands around his biceps, bringing him closer. Their foreheads were pressed together and Riddle caressed Izar's arms. "I have a private home on a beach. No one knows of its location and I know you'll love it. Let me bring you with me for a few days and we can both relax. I can help you heal your mind. I can assist you with anything you wish…" the man trailed off huskily.
"I don't trust you," Izar whispered darkly, without hesitation.
Riddle paused suddenly, his face twisting in rage. "I'm not going to apologize to you, simply because what happened was an unfortunate twist in plans, not a fault of mine. Avery will be punished severely for his mistakes and I have already avenged you for what the French dared to do to you. I've said it once and I will say it again, you're protection is important to me." Brown eyes pierced through Izar, seeing everything.
Izar closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Someday, I'd enjoy that house on a beach, Tom. But right now, I need to heal on my own and construct my mind away from your influence." It was the first time he called the Dark Lord Tom. It was heavy on his tongue and it didn't sound right.
Before Riddle could retort, Sirius stumbled noisily up on the top of the tower, eyeing the two wizards in suspicion.
Izar stood up, feeling the anger, the longing and challenge coming from the Dark Lord's aura. He kept his back to the man, hoping that when he came back to Britain, he would be stronger. Refusing the Dark Lord's offer had been difficult, but Izar was able to do it—even in his weakened state.
A light smirk crossed his lips as he made his way toward Sirius. Why did he feel better after the conversation with the arrogant bastard? Izar hated the man currently, but he couldn't deny that he felt lighter. He supposed it was because he was dancing another game, another power play with the Dark Lord. If the man was angry now—Izar wondered how furious he would be once he realized Izar would be gone for three months.
Izar always did enjoy irritating the man and gaining as much leeway as possible. And that came to another realization.
He had avoided a conversation involving the manipulated Dark Mark.
As he joined Sirius, he caught sight of Regulus standing at the foot of the steps.
"Are you alright, kid?" Sirius murmured gently, bemused at the smirk Izar wore. The man looked back at Riddle, musing.
Izar lifted his chin, offering his uncle a tight smile.
"I will be."
{Notes} Part II is next. It will also be a time skip, three months at most. It will also be continued on this story link- under 'Death of Today'.
What's happening in Part II?
Izar will mature and become more confident with himself and his abilities, perhaps darker as well. Even if he's exceptionally mature at the moment, he isn't necessarily… ready to play with the adults. Next part, he will be. He will be able to dance more easily and duel more successfully. After all, even if Regulus wants Izar to 'heal' for three months, you don't expect Izar to do nothing, do you? He'll be inventing, dueling, among other things.
Also, you'll learn about Cygnus' Curse. You'll get the battle custody with Lily, Voldemort's creature, and what everyone is waiting for… Voldemort/Izar action… and… wait… is that a few inches in height, Izar?
