Enjoy. Thanks for the reviews/reading. And yes, I do read each one. Real-life has been kind of hectic as of the past two months. It's been difficult to respond and even update.
Chapter Fifteen
On Tuesday morning, the day after the raid, there was another meeting called with the Unspeakables. Only this time, they were traveling upstairs to the upper levels of the Ministry. Izar didn't particularly like this course of action. Not only did it show the employees at the Ministry that Rufus had a strong hold over the Unspeakables, but it exposed the Unspeakables' privacy and secrecy to the public eye.
However, there was a positive of traveling to the upper levels of the Ministry.
The change in the Ministry's atmosphere was obvious and breathtakingly tangible. And Izar got to see if firsthand.
Yesterday had been Rufus' first day as Minister. In reaction to the election, the Ministry had been full of cheerful chaos and high-spirited employees. Today, there was a substantial air of solemnity and darkness. All the uncertainty throughout the Ministry was only fueled by the daily posts as they reported the attack at Godric's Hollow. Most the journalists had changed their tune and warned the public that there was now a Dark Lord in Britain—the first one since Gellert Grindelwald. Other reporters went the safe route and reassured the public that it was just the terrorists acting up again and Minister Scrimgeour had everything under control.
It was quite the contrary, actually. The death toll last night was almost double for the Aurors than it was for the Death Eaters.
Izar stood stiffly among the Unspeakables as they came to a stop before the Minister and Undersecretary. Behind both leading politics, the Board of Unspeakables stood, their scrolls in hand once again with their crimson-feathered quills and matching robes. They hadn't made any changes to the Department of Mysteries as of yet. But Izar was sure they had taken enough notes and had given them to Rufus to look over.
To the side of the lobby, the sheer number of Aurors stood in full uniform, their expressions smoothed into a stoic mask of professionalism. If Izar looked hard enough, he could see Sirius standing a few meters from him. The Black heir didn't try to meet eyes with his uncle. He was still unsure how to proceed with Sirius.
And the same went for Riddle. Not the Dark Lord himself, but Riddle. Would Izar go to the man after lunch as if everything were normal? Or was Izar not welcome in the Undersecretary's office either? On the contrary, Izar didn't want to be anywhere in the man's presence.
"Thank you for coming on such a short notice," Scrimgeour began as if he were oblivious that they didn't have a choice in coming.
My, oh my. The Minister sure looked worse for wear, Izar thought with a dark and smug smile. The Minister's normally greasy hair had increased in moisture as it was raked backward with an agitated hand. Izar could almost see the oil drip at the curly ends of his hair. And Rufus' normally light face had turned ashen, the scars etched in his skin now startlingly obvious. On top of it all, the Minister was favoring his left leg.
All the injuries Izar inflicted on the man must have been healed last night, before the public could see the defeated Minister. But the man's mental health was just as obvious as any physical injury. And yet, those yellow eyes were brighter than ever. A determined prey was just as delicious as a defeated one.
Next to Rufus, Riddle stood like a statue, impassive and unhappy to be present. Beside him, a large box sat, its contents a mystery to everyone present.
"There is no time for pleasantry," Rufus grunted as he leaned on his left leg. "We are at war and I must stretch out for aid. All of you are skilled and intelligent men and women. While we have a remarkable and strong army of Aurors, I feel as if we need more. That is why I believe the Unspeakables' time will be most beneficial if we focused on the war."
Izar pursed his lips, his eyes half-lidded. He knew where this was going. The question was, what did Izar think about it?
"For the duration of this war, I would like the Department of Mysteries to fight along side the Aurors and against the Death Eaters," Rufus spoke crisply, his voice heightening in volume as the Unspeakables began to voice out their disagreement.
Standing on the balls of his feet, Izar clasped his hands behind his back and smiled thinly. It was a decent enough move for Rufus, but also predictable and risky. By him recruiting the Unspeakables in the war, in battle, it showed that he was in desperate need… that he was slacking in the public's expectations. Surely the Minister saw that as much, but then again, Rufus was a blunt and candid leader. Someone who couldn't care a less about politics and favored getting things done correctly and efficiently. With brute force.
"And what of our inventions? You cannot mean to tell us that our jobs have been altered. Dueling isn't in our job description!" One woman complained in the front of the group, her voice loud and almost ear-splinting. Her words were all but incomprehensible to those in audience.
Rufus looked goaded, but he answered anyway. "With all due respect, Madam, as the Minister, I have the right to change your job description." That shut the woman up immediately. "In all honesty, I would have thought all of you would realize the honor of fighting for your country, for the victims targeted by the Death Eaters. You would be helping the men and women of Britain while stopping a mad man from taking control over the future. Over our children's future."
Silence spread across the group and Izar bowed his head, hiding his mirth. Fools. They were all fools. Their true feelings on the matter would always be reluctance and unwillingness. However, if they got credit or were blamed for not caring enough for the citizens of their world, they would go through with fighting just to look better.
Though, there were setbacks Rufus hadn't taken note of.
Slowly, he glanced up, noticing Scrimgeour had taken a scroll from Riddle. With an air of dignity, Izar raised his hand high. Unspeakables turned to look at him, but Izar kept facing forward as if he were ignorant.
"Yes… Mr. Black?" Rufus motioned toward him nonchalantly while glancing down at the list.
"Though Mrs. Webber asked a rather… fervent question that most of us had trouble understanding, I'm afraid you glanced over her real concern, or, our real concern with this new development." Izar sniffed superiorly as he watched an irritated tick travel across Scrimgeour's jaw.
Yellow eyes glanced up at him, drilling him with a hard stare. "And what is that, Mr. Black?"
Izar wasn't affected by the man's lion-like annoyance. If anything, he was amused Scrimgeour could be easily riled. "What will happen to our job of inventing and experimenting, exactly? Do you expect us to train all day with the Aurors?" he paused, watching in pleasure as Rufus was about to answer before Izar continued, successfully cutting off the Minister. "And there is also the concern with the battles. While most of us our brilliant when it comes to scientific and magical theory, we aren't as skilled in dueling. I believe we would be more of a disadvantage than an asset."
A few Unspeakables snickered lowly, but Rufus didn't seem to mind. "All good questions, Mr. Black, but hardly an issue for you personally."
Ah, an attempt at flattery. Little did the man know he was complimenting the very same Death Eater who threw him into a roof last night.
"I don't intend to take away your love of experimenting or inventing." Rufus rolled the parchment back up, providing the Unspeakables with his full attention. "I just think Britain would benefit if all of you focused on inventing useful… gadgets for the war. All of you will absorb yourself with the war efforts and improving the Ministry." Scrimgeour paused, making certain he got his point across.
"As for the battles against the Death Eaters, I realize that some of you are not very skilled in dueling. I understand as much and will sign a release of your commitment if you are unable to duel. Those of you who wish to still go into battle, but find themselves unconfident in their skills, will be allowed to train with the Aurors during the evening."
A decent enough plan of action, Izar thought as he watched the Unspeakables whisper and murmur to one another. It would place a burden on their shoulders knowing they could get out of combat, but knowing they had the option to better themselves and fight for Britain. They would undoubtedly take the training session, only because it made them look better in the eyes of others.
"Those of you who are decent duelers will be called to the Ministry if there is ever an attack. You will receive a simple bracelet that will warm comfortably when you are needed. From there, you will accompany us to the sight of the attack," Rufus said in all seriousness. "I need everyone to take in account that innocents are being killed and slaughtered. Taking your time to arrive at the Ministry is not an option."
The Unspeakables suddenly grew quiet, finally picking up on the sincerity of the situation.
"I will be working and speaking to you more on the combat side of the war at a later date," the Minister shook the rolled parchment in his hands. "At the present, I have come up with a solution that will most likely create more powerful and quicker inventions for the war. Groups will be assigned and Chambers will merge into one unit until the war has ended. After which, the Unspeakables will be allowed to go back to their Chambers and resume their earlier work."
Izar felt his lip twitch upward in disgust. "Groups?" Izar murmured, horrified at the very thought of working together with other people. For a war he didn't even support, nonetheless.
"Yes. Groups, Mr. Black." Rufus was able to pick up Izar's quiet whisper. The Minister snapped open the roll of parchment, gazing at Izar over the top of the scroll amid the Unspeakables' chuckles. "In fact, why don't we start with you, hmm? You seem the most eager out of the bunch."
Izar remained unresponsive besides offering a raised eyebrow at the man's sadistic sense of humor. He ignored the Unspeakables as they looked at him in amusement and exasperation. Izar even disregarded the stare he was receiving from the Auror side of the room. He knew it was Sirius, perhaps James Potter. Instead, Izar's attention bypassed all of them and favored the other end of the expansive Chamber. He spotted some politicians standing nearby as they watched the proceedings with vast interest.
One politician, in particular, caught his notice. Lucius Malfoy stood amongst his subordinates, looking regal and every inch of powerful. The serpent at the end of his cane was caressed seductively against his chin and lips in what appeared to be contemplation. An inquiring eyebrow rose as Lucius noticed Izar's observation.
A true grin splayed Izar's mouth as he turned away. Lucius Malfoy would never be a boring specimen. If there was ever a man or woman who lightened Izar's spirits, it would always be Lucius.
"Izar Black," Rufus began reading from his scroll. "Augustus Rookwood…"
Glancing at Augustus, Izar studied the man's expressionless profile. It was a decent enough match. And he was more than willing to work with a fellow Death Eater. Especially a Death Eater who harbored intelligence and sanity.
"…will also be working with Conner Oran and Lily Potter."
Izar's hopes shattered, yet he remained unreadable as he looked up at the ceiling to steady and calm himself down. Who made the damned list? If it was Riddle, Izar swore to himself the Dark Lord would have a lot of kissing up to do now. But then again, Riddle wouldn't see anything wrong with his actions. No matter if the Dark Lord was in the wrong, the man never confessed as much—he would never acknowledge his mistakes.
Just like last night. The man always seemed to run Izar's life. There was no reason for him to have any say over who Regulus adopted. It was simply absurd and so like the Dark Lord. Quite frankly, as much as Izar enjoyed the power battles and the struggle for dominance, he was tired of always being the one to lose. This time around, Izar would not bend his neck.
"Step forward and collect your new uniform and wristlet," Rufus ordered when the four Unspeakables stayed rooted in place, seemingly dreading their assigned members just as much as Izar.
Izar kept his head held high as he moved forward. Not only would he have to put up with his mother, but he would have to put up with Conner Oran. The same man who looked at Izar with a mixture of jealousy, hate and lust. Nothing he couldn't handle, but Izar preferred not going to Riddle's office with a headache everyday.
The three others in his group briefly spoke to Rufus as the man asked them of their dueling skills. It wasn't a surprise that each one of them acknowledged they could fight without extra lessons.
"And you, Mr. Black?" Rufus murmured with a quill in hand. Scrimgeour took an advancing step forward, invading Izar's personal space. Yellow eyes swept the length of Izar, a hard edge to his mouth. "You're only sixteen," the man continued with a lowered voice. Those around them would have trouble hearing. "You have the choice of stepping out from the combat side of the war."
Izar only moved closer, thrilled at the proximity. The man smelt of black coffee and aftershave. Almost as if Rufus hadn't taken a shower that morning and decided to cover up his stench with a powerful substitute. It fit the man perfectly, especially because Izar could smell the odor of sweat underneath his aftershave.
"I'm a bit insulted you think my age has anything to do with my skill," Izar murmured lowly. The corner of his lip lifted at Rufus' grim face.
"No," the Minister replied shortly. "I just wanted to give you the option of stepping out."
And it was the perfect excuse for Izar to decline so he could fight with the Death Eaters. After all, he needed to quench his blood-lust and he needed to feel the adrenaline of killing his enemies. But then again, he was banned from any raids and any contact with the Death Eaters at the base.
Izar looked sideways at Riddle, meeting the man's charmed brown eyes before facing Rufus with a grin. "There may be times I am unable to fight, sir. But consider me part of the war. After all, what else do I have to do with my evenings?"
Scrimgeour allowed a small smile, but his eyes stayed hard as he looked closely at Izar. "Very well, Mr. Black. Gather your things from Mr. Riddle."
There was suspicion in the Minister's eyes. Izar's intrigue only heightened with the realization. Rufus must know something, perhaps even suspected Izar was his opponent last night. If that were the case, he believed Scrimgeour would work on throwing Izar out of the Unspeakable Department, perhaps even out of the Ministry. He would do so gently, as if it weren't for the reason Izar was a Death Eater, but because he was doing it for Izar's best interest.
After all, the man had no evidence.
Izar stopped before the tall form of Riddle, reaching for the simple silver bracelet and the new uniform. He didn't meet the Undersecretary's eyes. He couldn't. That was, until he was given the new uniform. He glanced up at Riddle, studying the man's hard face.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Black?" Rufus Scrimgeour murmured in exasperation as he spotted Izar's frown.
The Black heir unfolded the uniform, staring at the yellow robes with the large black Ministry emblem on the back. "Yellow and black really aren't my color. I feel like a bloody Hufflepuff," he muttered, glancing up at his group behind Riddle's shoulder. He caught Conner Oran's eyes. "Though, I'm sure Oran feels right at home."
The young man gave a growl of fury. "I was in Ravenclaw!"
So easily riled. Izar wondered when he got so good at this. "Could have fooled me." He glanced up at Riddle, flashing the man a coy smile before walking behind everyone and toward the end of the hall. He stayed within distance of his group, but well enough away to give himself room.
Izar was finding the changes in the Ministry difficult to swallow. Rufus was tightening his fist around Britain quickly. Though, Izar didn't expect any less. He just wondered if Voldemort was prepared to meet Scrimgeour head on. If the Dark Lord didn't come at Rufus with full power, Izar believed the Dark side would struggle severely. Of course, there was always the option of Izar making a few… mistakes in battle with the Unspeakables. A slip of an Avada Kedavra or accidentally putting an Auror in the way of a Severing hex…
But that would only happen if Voldemort bent his neck first.
"Quite the spectacle," a voice drawled in Izar's ear.
Izar had seen Lucius approaching. "If you'd like to call it that," he replied stiffly. He watched Riddle's shoulders straighten and he knew the man well enough to know he was listening in despite his turned back.
"Something as… deplorable as this may require a strong drink to settle the nerves. Don't you believe, Izar?" Lucius purred softly. "Would you mind accompanying me on a lunch conference?"
The Black heir finally turned to look up at Malfoy, catching the deeper meaning behind the invitation. There was a reason behind his request and Izar wondered if it had anything to do with the assassination in France.
He had to step carefully if that were the case. Voldemort made it clear that Izar was not to go on any raids. And that included his mission of assassinating the Dark Lord in France. But then again… when did Izar ever listen?
Izar caught Lily's eyes and she abruptly turned away.
Lips thinning, Izar nodded sharply. "That will be acceptable."
{Death of Today}
"I'm certain it was him last night," Rufus confessed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I have no way to prove it besides your own words and the way he moves. But Izar Black is a threat and one I am wary of keeping in the Ministry despite my lack of evidence."
The man opposite of him gave a lipless smile, his long fingernails tapping on the armrest. Some days, Rufus compared the man to a serpent in disguise. But then again, perhaps he was. All Slytherins were rather conniving. Rufus wouldn't trust one as far as he could throw him or her. Though, despite his wariness of the man before him, despite the rumors and all the warnings Rufus could pick up from the man's character, there was just something that Rufus believed he could trust in him.
An oily chuckle escaped past the man's lips, putting Rufus on edge. He wasn't particularly fond of the wizard across from him, but there were times Rufus could put aside that dislike and bend his neck.
"Instead of throwing him out on his arse, why not… play his own game?"
Rufus' yellow eyes met the dark ones across from him. "Meaning?"
"He's playing with you in great rapture. You are his new play thing," the man whispered. "Why not play with him, hm?"
Rufus rubbed his sore leg, closing his eyes briefly to give himself strength. "I'm afraid that is not my methods. I do not manipulate or play with another human being, no matter how dangerous the man may be. What I should really do is transfer him into another Department, perhaps the Aurors and seclude him across seas during his training." Suddenly, Rufus felt small as the man across from him shook his head in disproval.
"He expects that," came the rebuttal. "Despite only meeting you a handful of times, Izar Black has successfully stripped you down to your very bones. He knows your methods and he knows your actions before you even move. A dangerous opponent, yes, but he's also a Ravenclaw and a prodigy. It's natural for him. When he's curious about something, he doesn't stop until he knows all of his subject's properties. You are just his most recent experiment."
It was a mutual interest, Rufus acknowledged grimly. He had never met someone as intelligent and powerful at the age of sixteen. The boy was a threat now, but he was still young—still struggling through mistakes. When Izar Black matured, he would become something Rufus knew would be too late to take down.
"If what you really say is true," Rufus began, picking up and setting down his quill. "Then it's possible he could be the next Dark Lord. I need to harness this problem now, not before it's too late." He exaggerated the passion behind his words by hitting his desk with his finger.
"That's more than true," the man agreed, always calm. "Though Mr. Black has what it takes to become a Dark Lord, he does not possess the requirements or the interest of leading an army. However, he will be something even the Dark Lord will have trouble controlling. Even now, he clashes with the Dark Lord." An amused smile crossed the man's lips. "But you must realize, despite his overwhelming sense of accomplishments, he is still only a child. He must learn from mistakes before he is a skilled and mature wizard."
Rufus narrowed his eyes. The man across from him had close contacts within the Dark Lord's followers. Rufus was willing to believe it was Lucius Malfoy, but he refrained from asking. Of course, it could also be the man himself, which is why Rufus had to proceed with caution.
"What, exactly, are you implying?"
The man across from him appeared frustrated that Rufus hadn't picked up his line of meaning. "The boy is just that, a boy. Prey on his insecurities. He's a worthy and powerful opponent; why not try to convert him?"
It was an absurd idea. "And how would you go about that? The boy is a Dark wizard."
"You have no originality when it comes to manipulation, do you, Minister? Izar Black knows as such and he relies on you being hot-headed and blunt."
Rufus lifted his lip, revealing his pointed and yellowing teeth. Curling his fingers into fists on top his desk, Rufus leaned closer to his visitor. "I apologize, but I believe those who manipulate and play have psychological issues that need to be looked after. You lot are not right in the head. So forgive me if I am rather blunt and straightforward in my approaches. It gets things done without the added headache."
The man across from him simply sat back, watching Rufus through impassive eyes. "I believe that Izar Black likes recognition and power," the man continued, completely ignoring Rufus' tirade. "In the Dark Lord's ranks, he does not receive such honor. He is just a faceless servant within the Death Eater army. Show him that he deserves appreciation and can be a very influential wizard for the Ministry. Show him he is important."
The Minister slouched against his armchair, tapping his desk in contemplation. "You believe he will crawl away from the Dark Lord and to the Light side," Rufus murmured, not posing it as a question as he already knew the answer.
Nonetheless, the man responded. "It is a possibility. And a possibility I am more than eager to see the results of. Consider it a test of sorts for Izar Black."
A tawny eyebrow rose. "A test for your purposes or mine? Or both?" Rufus suddenly leaned forward again, placing his forearms across the sprawled out parchments. "But for some reason, Mr. Riddle, I believe your expectations of Izar Black's results of this test differ from my expectations."
Riddle gave one of his lipless smiles, inclining his head as he stood. The tall politician moved to the door with grace almost equal to his political heir's. "Have a good day, Minister. And remember, France has contacted you in regard to revising the treaty of alliance Cornelius Fudge declined." The man gave a grin full of teeth. "I believe they are fearing their own rising Dark Lord and want our aid as quickly as possible."
The door shut. Rufus blinked at the closed door, growling deeply at the thought of revising the treaty of alliance with the French. They were a relatively peaceful country, one that boosted about their lack of deceit in their Ministry and their clean politics. And look where that got them, a rising Dark Lord. Granted, their dilemma wasn't nearly as bad as it was in Britain, but the French also wanted control over Britain's Ministry.
Revising the treaty of alliance would no doubt push Britain closer into France's hands. But Rufus didn't want to reject their plea too harshly or maybe not at all. After all, if the war in Britain got too difficult to contain, he may need to search for aid from the other Ministries across Europe, possibly in America.
But he didn't want any aid. If it was up to Rufus, he would send some men undercover and assassinate the rumored Dark Lord in France without the Ministry's knowledge.
The hell with Dark Lords. The lot of them.
{Death of Today}
"Not the place I would associate with you, Mr. Malfoy," Izar said in all honesty as he glanced around the pub.
He had been prepared for an extravagant restaurant with silk napkins and gold utensils. Not a dark pub that, granted, was nicely decorated and not as grimy as the usual bar, but loud and full of smoke and liquor. The majority of the seating was at the expansive bar, but there were a few booths and tables in the back of the room where Izar currently sat across from Lucius.
Quidditch games were playing on a few screen-like canvases and there were rowdy wizards slumped over the top of the bar, cheering on their selected team. Most of the occupants of the pub were nicely dressed, as if they were on business meetings or off work early.
Lucius set down a firewhiskey in front of Izar despite his underage and leaned back against the corner booth. "Draco and I enjoy coming here when his favorite Quidditch teams are playing," the blond replied. "I am a patron for the pub, and in return, they treat me with an exclusive area to sit each time I come here."
Nothing but the best for Draco, Izar was sure. If he remembered correctly, Draco was on the Slytherin Quidditch team at Hogwarts. Then again, Izar could be wrong. He hadn't followed the sport when he was in school.
"An exclusive area that we obviously need today," Lucius continued airily with raised eyebrows. "Tell me, what have you done this time to warrant the Dark Lord's spies?"
Izar, who was considering sipping at the horrible liquor, paused and glanced suspiciously at Lucius. "I'm sorry?" he asked cautiously, keeping his voice lowered.
Lucius glanced sideways at a man who was sitting a few paces away, sipping at his own drink and watching Izar and Lucius through lowered lids. "There are a couple of the Dark Lord's followers here, certainly not shy about their observation."
Izar had noticed, of course, but he hadn't known their identities. Lucius had been around the Death Eaters far longer than Izar had. He trusted the blond when he said they were spies. Which only fueled his anger toward Voldemort. "It's irrelevant," he responded stiffly, taking his drink and sipping it. The strong liquor didn't seem as horrible as it had the last time he tried it with the Dark Lord.
Lucius' mouth twitched at Izar's response. "It is no wonder the Dark Lord keeps a tight leash on you," he whispered huskily, his eyes alight.
The Black heir set down his glass, offering Lucius an unimpressed look. The man knew nothing about the relationship between Voldemort and Izar, and yet, it seemed as if the blond had suspicions. Just like Regulus. "You brought me here for a reason, Lucius." He directed the conversation back around as he raised a privacy ward around their table with a simple flick of his wand. "What is that reason?"
For a brief moment, Lucius seemed crestfallen to be turned away from his chosen subject. "I've done research on Acelin Morel and have dug up something rather… intriguing." The man made a move to grab something from the briefcase he held, but Izar quickly intervened.
"No," he hissed sharply, successfully stopping Lucius. "I don't want them seeing anything other than us having a conversation." Lucius inclined his head, seemingly almost uncertain of meeting with Izar if the Dark Lord was unhappy with him. "You said you have information on Lord Morel?"
"I realize you were assigned this mission from the Dark Lord, but I thought I could assist you with my contacts in France. If you find it insulting, I—"
Izar smirked lightly. "I am not insulted, just surprised you have moved so quickly. The Dark Lord just informed us of this… trip two days ago."
The Head of the Malfoy family pursed his lips, lightly brushing the front of his robes before reaching for his own drink. His rings flashed in the dim lighting, bringing glam to something as bland as his fingers. "Forgive me. I find the idea of accompanying you on this mission quite fascinating. Working with you has always intrigued me."
Pale eyes held his own before Izar shook his head lightly in amusement. "You're full of flattery today, aren't you, Lucius?" He tapped the table before him in a moment of pause. "I can assure you, the thought of working with you also interests me." Izar leaned forward, throwing away the flattery and getting straight to the point. "What do you know about Acelin Morel?"
Lucius' lips thinned into a gleeful smile. "He enjoys young blonds."
Blinking, Izar took a moment to grasp the full meaning behind the man's words. "He's a pedophile?" he asked in disbelief. What was it with Dark Lords and young children? But then again, Voldemort had a more than solid reason to pursue Izar. And the man hadn't even touched Izar fully or any other child for that matter.
Izar supposed it was a control issue. Dark Lords, or even just powerful figures, wouldn't trust older men or women in a vulnerable state, such as sex. The powerful figure could easily take advantage over younger victims and ensure they did not strike them down in the heat of the moment.
Chuckling, Lucius nodded. "It's not confirmed. But he is seen leaving social events with young blond men or women. They are usually of legal age, but just barely. Not necessarily a pedophile, but he enjoys them as young as he can possibly get."
Izar sat against his booth, staring at the table with consideration. "I know what you're hinting at, Lucius. And I am not certain I can agree with your tactic. Where are we going to find a blond boy or girl who will willingly draw out Acelin? Its possible we can use Polyjuice on one of the Death Eaters…" he trailed off when he saw the predatory glint in Lucius' eyes.
"I was always curious to know what you would look like blond."
Izar was quick to catch the hint. "Absolutely not," he replied shortly. "You expect me to be the bait for my own prey?"
"And why not?" Lucius persisted. "You are certainly attractive and young enough. The only downside is that you have to act your age in order to make him leave with you. It would make him underestimate you." Lucius read Izar's expression and frowned. "It was a suggestion, Mr. Black. No one knows his place of residence. Social gatherings are his only public appearances. I have been invited to a gathering tonight and one next week. Next week is likely the best choice of action, as tonight is such short notice."
"Tonight," Izar responded curtly. "We'll do it tonight."
He leaned forward, placing his fingers to his temple. It was the perfect opportunity. If what Lucius said was true then Izar would only have the chance to catch Acelin at a social gathering. And a social gathering like that could only be invitation only. Lucius had enough contacts in France to get an audience with Acelin and his group. This couldn't be passed up.
Next week could have worked. And of course it would have been the more logical thing to do, but it would also mean Voldemort would catch wind of it by then and try his damnest to stop the proceedings.
This was Izar's assigned mission. He wasn't going to let Voldemort assign it to someone else just because of an argument over a Mudblood child. This was his mission to prove a bit more of himself to the Inner-Circle. Granted, it would probably anger the Dark Lord beyond limits, but at the moment, Izar wanted to eliminate the Dark Lord in France. The man was his. This was his revenge for what the man did during the Triwizard Tournament. Acelin Morel treated Izar as a simple pawn in his game with Riddle. The man probably didn't even remember Izar's name—just the faceless Champion from Riddle's government.
"Tonight?" Lucius repeated with a bit of surprise. "I know the Dark Lord confirmed that Acelin Morel was not a powerful opponent, but I have several sources that claim Morel is a force to be reckoned with."
Izar looked up, raking back his hair in frustration. "It wouldn't be the first time the Dark Lord let his arrogance run his opinion," he spoke harshly. Lucius looked taken aback; almost horrified by the way Izar spoke about their Lord. "Don't tell me you think the Dark Lord is not arrogant."
Lucius paled slightly, straightening his shoulders and dipping his head in order to hide his lips from Voldemort's spies. "I have noticed arrogance from time to time…"
"From time to time?" Izar countered in amusement. "Don't be naïve, Lucius, the Dark Lord reeks of arrogance. He makes poor judgments because he can't see past his own power." Izar sat back, slowly reining in his anger over the Dark Lord. There would need to be adjustments to the Dark Lord's character if Acelin Morel did prove to be a bigger threat than Voldemort made him out to be. But now certainly wasn't the time to think about his grudge against the Dark Lord.
Glancing up, he dismissed Lucius' suspicious stare. "Are you available to leave for France today? Preferably early afternoon?" Izar pushed gently, casually. He fingered the cool glass tumbler next to him, knowing it was probably polite to drink the whole thing. But he was just unable to swallow the revolting liquor.
Lucius sat back, his braid sliding down and across his shoulder at the action. His pale eyes glanced to the Dark Lord's spies and then back at Izar. "First," the man began with a whisper. "Tell me if you are planning a mutiny."
It was difficult schooling his features to remain unaffected. "A mutiny?" Izar asked in slight disbelief. "Against the Dark Lord who happens to have hundreds of followers?"
Fanning his hands before him in surrender, Lucius offered a smile that hardly creased his cheeks. "It could happen, Izar. You would be surprised who would follow you." The blond leaned forward ever so slightly. "Our enemies weren't the only ones who noticed your exceptional skill during the raid last night. You are a whispered name among the Death Eaters who consider you either a threat or an enigma. They first took interest during the Yuletide last year when you defeated Bellatrix."
Izar scoffed lightly. While he may be intelligent and above average in magical strength, he didn't think he could compete with a Dark Lord's strength. "A charming thought, Lucius, but not one I will ever consider. The Dark Lord was born to lead and take over. He has more seduction over crowds than I could ever hope to possess." The Black heir shook his head. "I have no desire to be a leader."
Lucius frowned. "Pity," he murmured. "I especially find it amusing that the Dark Lord shares the same thoughts as us. It's simply why he holds you so tight."
"To keep an eye on me?" Izar responded tightly.
"Yes," the blond acknowledged, tipping back the rest of his firewhiskey. "You could be a threat to him someday. It's why he's keeping you nearby." Cold grey eyes danced across Izar's face. "Tell me… is it suffocating to have him so close? Or is it arousing?" Lucius gave a lipless smile and a wicked light gleamed from beneath his eyes. "I would enjoy seeing the two of you together. Two powerful and dominant men such as yourselves. It would be breathtaking. Dare I say, viciously stunning?"
Izar studied the man through lowered lashes. Lucius was all but brimming with a sexual air around him as he gazed back at Izar. Earlier, Izar believed Lucius wasn't gay nor was he inclined to betray Narcissa in such a way. His sexual air was only a side affect to his brewing interest. But was that truly the case?
"You see us together all the time, Lucius," Izar replied.
Lucius chuckled lowly. "You know exactly what I mean," the man breathed.
Instead of becoming insulted or defensive, Izar gave a chuckle, brushing off the tension. After all, it was only adult humor he was participating in. Lucius was not pointing fingers at Izar and Voldemort's relationship. "I prefer easier prey to dominate over, Lucius. A hunt is always welcome, but not something as impossible as our Lord. The Dark Lord would only get off by looking at himself in the mirror," he boasted lightly.
Malfoy laughed again, the sound of true amusement. Izar smiled, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Lucius' exclamation about Voldemort keeping him close by was something Izar always wondered himself. Sometimes he believed the man was lying about the whole mate concept, that this whole relationship he shared with the Dark Lord was only a ruse to keep Izar by the collar. But every time he thought as such, he forcibly pushed that thought away. After all, now that he was a creature, he could feel the pull toward the Dark Lord— however weak it may be.
He was just having doubts about his future with Voldemort. About their relationship. And while it may seem pathetic, Izar wanted to straighten a few things out with Voldemort before he succumbed.
He wanted to run his hands down his face in exasperation. Instead, his fingers remained limp around the half-drunken whiskey. "Now that you know I don't plan on having a rebellion within the Dark Lord's ranks, are you ready to travel to France today?"
Lucius sighed, losing his good humor. "Of course, it would be my pleasure."
The man looked at Izar as if he knew about the restrictions put on him by the Dark Lord. Izar wondered how much trouble he would get into by disobeying Voldemort's orders and going on a raid with a few of his Death Eaters. Most likely a lot. But Acelin Morel was Izar's victim. No one else's.
Acelin Morel hated Undersecretary Riddle the day the man laughed at him after he asked Riddle to join forces in the Ministry. Acelin was likely still clueless that Riddle was the Dark Lord Voldemort. Nonetheless, he wanted revenge for his wounded pride. With the Triwizard Tournament, Acelin got his chance of getting back at Riddle by targeting the Britain Champion—Izar—as a personal insult.
And while the man didn't do it personally, he sent his daughter, Airi Roux to sprinkle the Devil's Venenum across his face during the First Task. When that didn't succeed, he targeted Izar during the Yule Ball with the Vesania and Daphne had been the unfortunate victim as she drank from Izar's cup. And lastly, before the Third Task, Izar found out he had been poisoned with the Acontium Folliculus.
Riddle had already gotten his revenge by killing Acelin's daughter, Airi and her husband, the French Minister Serge Roux. He hung their bodies for the world to see during the end of the Third Task. But now it was Izar's turn. He had been treated as a simple pawn in Morel and Riddle's game. But tonight, he would be the one pulling the strings.
"Will there be others?" Lucius inquired, searching Izar's expression.
"This… social gathering we will be attending," Izar began. "Is it a political gathering? Or one full of his followers?"
"Both," Lucius confirmed. "It will not be such a large gathering that the French Minister will make an appearance. But Morel will be there amongst his loyal supporters. A few politics from the other governments will be there as well. Undersecretary Riddle was invited, as he always is, but of course he will not show up."
Izar contemplated if he should bring more than just Lucius. If he was going to lure Acelin outside the gathering, would the man bring his supporters? Or would he go alone? Izar wanted to make sure he was the one to kill Acelin, not anyone else.
"Could you invite two other Death Eaters and bring them to Grimmauld Place as soon as you are able? From there, we will plot our next steps." Izar paused, considering. "I will construct a Portkey. It should be ready when you arrive."
Lucius nodded sharply. "Should I inform the Dark Lord?"
Izar finally reached for the rest of the whiskey before draining it. He placed it back on the table with a sharp tap, internally grimacing at the burn. "Leave that to me," Izar whispered. "I have to inform him I won't be in his office this afternoon." An owl would suffice. Perhaps Izar could give Riddle the excuse that a few family issues came up and he wouldn't be able to make it in.
Malfoy stood up, smirking. "I will see you shortly."
Just as Malfoy senior was about to pass, Izar reached out, grasping the edge of the man's velvet sleeve. "Lucius?" The man turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Let's keep this between just the two of us."
Lucius flashed a grin. "Of course, Mr. Black."
Izar watched Lucius leave the pub with an air of elegance around him. He then turned to the eyes watching him and wondered just how much the spies could report back to Voldemort. They couldn't know what transpired. But then again, even if they were clueless, the littlest observation they made could tip Voldemort off to what was happening.
He had to act quickly.
Why did he have to enjoy going against Voldemort's orders so much? He pegged it to the idea that he was keeping the Dark Lord on his toes. It was good practice for the old man.
{Death of Today}
Regulus looked up at him as Izar leaned against the doorframe of the parlor.
"Do I even want to know?" Regulus murmured in question as he observed Izar's blond hair and stiff dress robes. His father's eyes lingered on Izar's robes, his lips thinning at the stylish cut and high collar. They showed off Izar's frame, cloaking him in a dark green.
"No," Izar responded truthfully. He brushed away a crimped wave from his face, catching sight of the ice-blond color. He had mimicked Lucius' shade, preferring the white-blond to golden blond. It was a simple charm that would wear off in a few days.
"Please be careful," Regulus whispered as he went back to the Black tapestry.
Izar frowned, watching as his father murmured a Latin incantation as he waved his wand over the recently burnt lineage tree. Further inside the parlor, Aiden sat cross-legged in front of a magical puzzle. Yet, the young boy wasn't looking at the puzzle. He seemed to favor watching Izar with haunted eyes.
The Black heir straightened, offering Aiden a cool look before turning his attention on Regulus once again. "You shouldn't be wasting your time with that, Regulus," Izar hinted. "Why don't you focus on mending your relationship with Snape first?"
Regulus turned, flashing Izar an irritated look. "That will take me years to accomplish, Izar. I might as well focus on constructing the Black tapestry first. It will probably be far simpler."
Izar scoffed, mentally reminding himself that he needed to add a bit more damage to the Black tapestry before Regulus did find a way to fix the wall. He glanced once again at Aiden as he felt the stare bore holes in the side of his head. The boy was still staring, still watching Izar.
"Please don't go," the boy whispered, appearing far younger than his seven years. "There is so much. So much blood."
Regulus stood up quickly, appearing delirious. "What?" he demanded, looking between Aiden and Izar. "Where are you going?"
Izar's lips thinned. "I told you, you don't want to know." Charmed green and charcoal eyes turned to Aiden. "We don't know the extent of his visions. It may not come to pass, Regulus. Just relax." He eyed Aiden as the boy rocked back and forth, appearing almost green. Reluctantly, Izar realized it might be a horrifying gift to have as such a young boy. And yet, Izar was not going to pass up this opportunity just because Aiden saw it come to pass.
And who knew? It was likely Acelin Morel's blood. Izar was immortal. He would not die from blood loss.
But then again, he wondered the extent of his immortality. There had to be ways to kill both Voldemort and him. Would beheading succeed? Fire was almost certainly something Izar could not survive. The few times he was around flames, he grew uncomfortable. He knew the Avada Kedavra would not kill him, simply because his heart was already stopped.
It was a topic he needed to bring up to Voldemort one of these days.
"Are you going to change his name to be more suitable for the Black family?" Izar questioned innocently. After all, the name 'Aiden' was not a star.
Regulus stared at him. "You cannot be serious, Izar. How can you consider going if he's seen something so destructive?" His father looked at Aiden on the ground before shaking his head. "You cannot go. The Dark Lord must hear of Aiden's vision—" Regulus came to a quick stop as realization crossed his features. "Yes. Where are you going? The Dark Lord forbid any raids or contact with the Death Eaters at his base."
Izar remained impassive as he stared back at his father. This was simply ridiculous. "I'm going to France," he answered truthfully. "I'm going to extract my revenge."
Before Regulus could retort, the wards buckled, signaling the arrival of Lucius and the other Death Eaters. With a quick lunge, Regulus leaned forward, cupping both of Izar's cheeks in his hands. "Please," Regulus breathed. "Be careful. I mean it." The man placed his forehead against Izar's. "I want you back here by tomorrow morning. Midnight."
A light smile played Izar's face. He felt guilty for putting so much worry in his father. Especially when he knew Aiden's vision was showing him the fall of Acelin and not Izar. "I will."
Regulus didn't look so convinced with Izar's assurance.
