Thanks for reading/reviewing. Warning: Grammar errors.
Chapter Nineteen
As usual, ever since Izar ventured back into the fold of the Unspeakables, the table he sat at was tangible with awkwardness. Rookwood seemed oblivious to the tension, for the Inner-Circle Death Eater kept his head bowed over his notes of possible inventions. Lily followed Rookwood's example and kept her head bowed over her own notes. She only spoke once to Izar when he returned and offered him her condolences for Regulus' condition.
Conner Oran had given one long sneer at Izar before scratching his quill uselessly against his parchment.
All around them, the other groups of Unspeakables were speaking quietly among one another, planning inventions to help the war effort. Izar's group stuck out like a sore thumb, their silence deafening in the Department. Izar felt no need to break the silence. His own thoughts were revolving around the Horcruxes he was constructing and Regulus' condition. His father had yet to wake. But a short owl from Severus Snape reassured Izar that Regulus' mind was almost fully healed.
"I thought you were supposed to be brilliant," Conner suddenly muttered into his parchment. "Everyone always says you're a prodigy."
Izar tugged on his gold and black Unspeakable robes, offering Conner Oran a look of disdain. "Exactly what are you implying?"
Lily sent Oran a side-long glance before turning to Izar. He ignored her inquiry and chose to turn all his attention on the man across from him.
Oran set down his feathered quill and furrowed his brows. "I'm implying that they think far too highly of you. I haven't seen anything remarkable from you besides your ability to glower at the wall across from you."
Lily made an attempt to speak, but Izar held up a lazy hand, cutting her off. He sent Oran a thin smile. "I apologize," Izar whispered as he leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table in order to breathe across Oran's face. "Maybe I should refocus and draw mindless doodles on my own parchment." He gave a pointed look at Oran's parchment, full of pitiful doodles.
The young man flushed and sat up straighter. "They aren't doodles," Oran hissed. "They're sketches of possible inventions that would help in the war."
"How silly of me to think otherwise," Izar drawled.
The flush across Oran's face became crimson red. Before he could make an even larger fool of himself, Lily stepped in calmly. "Izar has only been here for a day, whereas we have had a week to consider." She lightly touched Oran's arm to calm him, but much to Izar's amusement, it only seemed to enrage the boy further. "I admit that I am not too knowledgeable in the field of coming up with inventions," she confessed softly, her lashes nearly brushing her cheeks as she looked down.
Izar watched her, intrigued and wary of her. There had been many times Izar could sit and think about her willing sacrifice, but he had always avoided thinking on it too deeply. He believed he would never be able to come to terms with it. But he still found himself curious about her mental health. There were times when she looked as hard as stone and other times when there was a warm glow in her eyes. Was she unstable? Or was she desperately trying to search for the emotions that left her more than fifteen years ago? He knew there had to be some emotion left in her. But most of them had likely been muted.
Vivid emerald eyes suddenly looked up at him, the hollowness inside them visible to Izar and the darkness dimming the green irises considerably. She kept his gaze and he found himself unwilling to look away.
"My place is in the Death Chamber," she explained, tearing her gaze from Izar and avoiding Rookwood completely. She knew he was a Death Eater and wanted nothing to do with the older man. "I think we're all a bit wary of one another to put our ideas on display for criticism."
She was right of course. Both of them, save for Rookwood and Izar, were wary of suggesting any ideas in fear of rejection. Rookwood and Izar just kept silent and clueless simply because they didn't want to create anything that would make the Light side hold advantage over the Dark. Izar knew he would eventually need to come up with something to keep up appearances, but he would make sure he knew how to counter whatever he created.
Lily's bony wrist bent as she pushed a lock of crimson hair away from her face. "I can speak to Owen Welder or Rufus Scrimgeour. Perhaps we can request a change in group?"
"No," Oran blurted.
All eyes turned in his direction and Izar found himself almost bored with the proceedings. He already knew why the young man across from him didn't want a change in group. Oran's jealousy and infatuation with Izar would fuel his need to stay in the group. Izar reminded himself that he needed to comment on how lovely the boy looked in his Hufflepuff colors.
Oran straightened from his hunched position when he realized his slip and offered a shy glance at Rookwood's dark grimace. "I mean…" Oran trailed off as something behind Izar snagged his attention.
The man's clean cologne teased Izar's nose before he turned to see Rufus Scrimgeour standing proudly behind their table. The Minister's slicked back hair was less greasy today despite the ruffled robes he wore.
The yellow eyes of the Minister studied the ink-stained parchment and broken quills between the silent and restless group. "Getting much progress done?" Over his shoulder, a member of the Unspeakable Board stood with their crimson robes contrasting sharply against the dim atmosphere of the Department of Mysteries. "Or have you hit a snag?"
No one was inclined to answer. Even Lily remained silent, her eyes lowering to her neatly written notes. Izar turned his shoulder back on the Minister, monitoring the man by listening to the rustle of his robes and the squeak of his leather boots.
Rufus grunted at the solemn expressions of the group. Suddenly, a strong and heavy hand landed on Izar's shoulder. The younger tensed at the sudden contact, but otherwise remained impassive. His prey appeared rather hesitant today. Izar wondered if the man were going to bring up his suspicions of Izar's involvement with the Death Eaters. The last time he had seen Rufus, there had been shadows of uncertainty and mistrust in the man's gaze.
Surely the Minister would act on his suspicions. It wasn't like the man to allow a threat such as Izar to remain with the Unspeakables even if there wasn't much evidence to try Izar. The man would take Izar by the collar and throw him out on his arse or, perhaps, target Izar as a public enemy.
Briefly, Izar wondered what it would be like to live as a fugitive. Bellatrix didn't seem to have a problem with living under constant threat. Izar was raised to possess nothing but a few articles of clothing and a hard cot and pillow. Living on the run didn't seem as remotely horrible as it would to someone of pure-blood status. They would be unable to live in luxury and withdraw money from their vaults.
Quite frankly, Izar viewed the possibility of being a wanted criminal… appealing. Sadly, Voldemort wouldn't think of the situation as highly as Izar. The Dark Lord wanted as many members of his army as he could to remain in the Ministry and unidentified.
"Mind having a word with me, Mr. Black?"
Izar caught Lily's eye before nodding. "Of course, Minister."
He stood gracefully from the silent table and followed Rufus out of the room, oblivious to Rookwood's suspicious eyes following at his heels.
The two lapsed into a tense silence. Izar smiled thinly, clasping his hands behind his back as they slowly walked down the dark corridor of the Department of Mysteries. The cold temperature of the corridor licked at Izar's skin. The creature side of him wished to lay beneath the sun's warm rays and bask in the comfortable heat of early December.
"Owen Welder and I were a bit surprised at your absence this past week, Mr. Black," Rufus finally began, throwing Izar a side-long glimpse. "When you informed us of what transpired, I can only express my deepest sympathies for you and your father. I hope he can recover nicely."
Izar only gave a tense nod in return, not wishing to expand on Regulus' condition. Last week, he had just sent a quick owl to Owen, informing him that Regulus had been attacked and was in critical condition. Nothing mentioning of a Death Eater raid or the extent of Regulus' wounds.
"Forgive me, Minister," Izar began softly. "But you appear… as if you have something on your mind."
And the man did. Usually Rufus was quick to jump to conclusions, quick to prosecute, and quick to spit things out. At the moment, the man looked almost hesitant and that wasn't Rufus' character. Izar's own suspicions heightened and he waited, coiled, for the man's words.
Rufus stopped his leisure walk and turned to face Izar slowly. With a hand rubbing his chin, Rufus studied Izar closely. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he were about to do something he had regrets about. "You're a good wizard, Izar."
Warning bells went off in Izar's head but he remained stoic as he gazed unblinkingly at the lion-like wizard across from him. They were alone in the corridor, save for an Unspeakable Board member a good distance away.
"You're a very talented and powerful young man," Rufus continued, oblivious to Izar's amused disbelief. "I want you to know how much the Light side values your cooperation. I believe… with your assistance, we can easily overpower the darkness that has shadowed our country."
The man was hand feeding him compliments, inflating his ego, and making him even more suspicious. This wasn't like Rufus. Izar was positive Scrimgeour had distrust in his eyes the last time they had met after the Death Eater raid. In fact, if Izar looked close enough, there were deeper shadows of reluctance and caution in the man's eyes now.
Izar leaned back on his heels, remaining silent and intentionally making Rufus uncomfortable.
If Rufus Scrimgeour knew Izar was the Death Eater he battled on the roof during the raid, then why was he feeding Izar compliments? Instead of the man running into a situation with a hot head, Rufus almost seemed uncomfortably manipulative.
The question Izar wanted to know was… who spoke with Rufus Scrimgeour?
The answer came quite easily.
Tom Riddle.
It had to be the Dark Lord. Who else could successfully convince a hard-arsed ex-Auror to switch tactics? Izar knew Rufus Scrimgeour like the back of his hand. Manipulation wasn't the Minister's strong point. He was too stubborn and tempered to lay a plan behind patience.
So, why would Voldemort convince the Minister to swallow his initial reaction and try to sway Izar? There were many possible answers to that. They all irritated Izar and amused him. One reason why Voldemort would set this up was to test Izar's loyalty. That scenario, above all else, stung him. Did Voldemort think him so easily swayed? So disloyal? It was true that Izar found the Light side more grateful of him and his gifts. But all the flattery and fame didn't appeal to Izar. He enjoyed the Dark and the privacy it offered.
Other than testing his loyalty, Izar reluctantly accepted that Voldemort could have been saving his hide. Without Voldemort's intervention, Rufus would have Izar tossed out of the Unspeakables, and, perhaps out of the Ministry. Now, it seemed as if Rufus was aiming for keeping Izar close. And in turn, it was keeping Izar in the midst of the war.
Either way, no matter what Voldemort intended with this course of action, Izar was going to play along. This was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. He could get closer to Rufus and he could play on Voldemort's fears—if the man really was worried that Izar would switch sides.
Izar placed his hands together, tapping his fingertips in attempt to appear uncomfortable. Gazing into Rufus' eyes, he wondered if he could play the Minister. "I…" he trailed off, offering a sly smile. "I'm not all that great, Minister."
Rufus' eyes widened a fraction. "Nonsense," he roared, tossing Izar a toothy grin. "You're the greatest mind seen for decades. And you're still only sixteen." Rufus shrugged, as if agitated. "It must be hard continuing with your father in the state that he's in. And for that, I feel guilty asking something of you."
Izar allowed a thin smile, shaking his head. "I need something to take my mind off things, Minister. What did you have in mind?" He watched closely as Rufus glanced at the crimson-robed wizard hovering in the shadows further behind them. Something was brewing in Rufus' mind. Izar couldn't wait to get his hands on it.
Rufus grunted, grabbing Izar around the shoulders and guiding him further down the corridor in a slow pace. "An Unspeakable came to me with a design late last week," the man began softly.
"An invention?" Izar probed gently.
The Minister nodded sharply. "It's an invention I'm wary about initiating. I debated long and hard this weekend about OK'ing the process of creating it. It's an invention that straddles the boundaries of morals and ethics. But this army of Death Eaters is getting to be a large threat. I want to eliminate them before they grow larger in numbers. The public will allow their fear to run their actions. It will not be long until they join the Death Eaters in hopes of being on the winning side."
Izar nodded, emotionless. "What invention did this Unspeakable come up with?" he asked, intrigued and cautious.
The tawny mane shook. "I need your word that you will keep this disclosed between me and the group you will work with. This needs to be confidential. Extremely, confidential."
Izar's eyes narrowed. If this project was so confidential, then why did Rufus trust him enough to tell him?
His question was answered as the crimson-robed advisor came to a stop beside Rufus as the man motioned him forward. The advisor snapped open a roll of parchment, the cream-colored paper glowing a vibrant gold, evidence that it was a magical contract. Izar's eyes came to the blank line, enough room for his signature if he so desired it.
"Your signature will bind your silence to this project. You will not be able to write about this project, speak about it, channel it mentally, nothing. You may speak about it between your colleagues, the trusted few I have hand-selected for this project. If there are others in hearing range while you're discussing it, they will simply hear gibberish. I must stress that this is an extremely private project. One that I want your concentrated effort on. It needs to be completed as soon as possible. After which, I hope to destroy any evidence of it."
Izar stood in surprised silence, his mind racing. "You do realize, Minister, that some inventions sound awe-inspiring on paper, but are, in reality, impossible to create? Correct?"
Rufus bowed his chin slightly, acknowledging Izar's words. "I thought you could do anything, Mr. Black."
The younger gave a light chuckle, shaking his head slowly. "I am not God, Minister. I cannot invent something that stretches the laws of magic to the extreme. What you make it sound like, leads me to believe that this invention is dangerous and impossible."
Yellow eyes watched him carefully. "The Unspeakable who came to me about the invention believes it can be done. Though, he has expressed that he needs aid. He even asked after your involvement, Mr. Black. And I full-heartedly agreed. You will make a very valuable addition to the team I have set up. You will start next week on it. I want it done quickly. Quietly." Rufus flashed a smug smile, almost obsessing over Izar's closed expression. "That is, unless you feel you are unable to create such an invention that will destroy the Dark side."
The man was taunting him. Him. Izar's eyes flashed, but otherwise remained unruffled. If he didn't take this task, Rufus' suspicions would only be confirmed. However, if Izar did take this task, he would be forced to make something that could, in all ways, destroy the Dark side and he would be helpless to warn the Death Eaters. But then again, if he took the offer, he would at least know what the invention was and how to stop it…
"Where is the quill?" Izar questioned, his eyes on the contract. It was short, and his sharp eyes only caught what the Minister promised. Silence. There was nothing underhanded about the contract, which Izar was thankful for.
Rufus nodded to the Unspeakable Advisor who handed Izar a gold-feathered quill. The Ravenclaw leaned forward and signed his name fluidly on the line. Standing tall, Izar pressed the quill into the advisor's palm and turned expectantly to Scrimgeour after his signature absorbed into the parchment.
The Minister thanked the crimson-robed advisor and walked with Izar once again. "You'll find out more about the invention tomorrow when you meet your group. But I will give you a short briefing of the intended outcome."
The man was intentionally extending the explanation. Izar forced down his impatience, finding comfort in the dark corridors of the Department.
"The invention will strip a wide-range area completely of magic."
Izar stopped in his advance, turning to stare at Rufus. "You cannot be serious." He remembered his own magic-sensitivity, the gift Cygnus had unveiled during his possession. Izar had the ability to cut off magical cores. And he hated that gift, simply because it was cowardly.
"I am," Rufus conceded. "We hope to obtain the results of a cage-like force field. The generators will activate and strip magic from inside its perimeter."
"Basically," Izar drawled. "You want to cage in the Dark army and strip their magic." He blinked at Rufus. "Why not just kill them? Taking away their magic will likely kill most of them. Wizards breathe with magic, their pulses race in sync with their cores. Ripping magic from them will only suffocate them and leave them all but empty shells of their former selves. It's torture, Minister. Killing them will be the better option."
Rufus stroked his jaw, his eyes almost troubled, yet there was a hard edge to them. "That is not necessarily true, Izar. Killing them would be unethical—"
"Destroying their cores would be even more unethical. You kill them anyway in battle."
Scrimgeour grinned. "Killing in battle is always our last resort. By stripping them of their magic, we will be giving them the choice of living. Surely most of them would take life without magic over death?"
"Don't be too sure of that, Minister." Izar glanced away from the Minister, finding it difficult to cage his temper.
The Minister preached to Izar at the Ministry ball not too long ago about Unspeakables holding too much power. He was afraid they would create something that would destroy the Wizarding world from the inside out. This invention was a step in that direction. Scrimgeour believed he could destroy the invention after they blasted the Dark wizard's cores? It wouldn't be that easy. The public would hear about the invention unless Rufus did his damned best to cover it up.
Even Izar would be against this invention if Voldemort asked him to create it to use against the Light side. Wizards and witches were meant to be gifted with magic. They were meant to defend themselves with it. By ripping and shriveling their cores, it would turn the forces of nature upside down.
And shriveling the cores is exactly what would happen. Despite himself, Izar's Ravenclaw mind raced with possibilities of how he would construct it. He would need to create enough power, enough radiation in the invention in order to react with the magical core and shrivel it into nothingness. Healers practiced radiation on cancer patients that sometimes destroyed bits of the magical core. But that was just a small amount of radiation and the magical core could often mend itself. If Izar could create enough radiation, he could destroy the magical cores completely.
Though, too much radiation would give the victims radiation poisoning.
Izar felt ill at just the thought of it. How would he get himself out of this one? Could he somehow warn Voldemort? Could he somehow invent this contraption incorrectly?
Yes. Incorrectly installing it would work. But he also needed to keep in account the other Unspeakables he would work with. It would be a difficult task, but Izar would rather be assigned this task than being oblivious about it.
He would make it work. Somehow.
Izar gave a tense nod to the waiting Minister. "If this is what you wish, Minister, it shall be done."
Rufus bowed stiffly at the waist. "Thank you, Mr. Black. I will be awaiting your success."
The Black heir watched the Minister make his way out of the Department of Mysteries, his short cloak snapping around his knees. Izar withheld a sigh, wondering what the hell he got himself into this time around. The Minister played it well. He knew Izar's loyalty. And he was challenging it. Doubtlessly, there would be eyes watching Izar and reporting back to the Minister. Rufus wanted Izar to feel welcomed with the Light side. He wanted Izar to feel important.
The man didn't know Izar well enough to realize that Izar thrived on mind games. The Black heir grew aroused at the prospect of playing… and Rufus just initiated more of a spark in Izar to resist and push back.
Izar turned his heel and slowly made his way back to the Unspeakable work station. He wondered who came up with the invention. Whoever came up with this idea would need to be skinned alive. It was not a genius invention, it was a sick and cowardly idea that was proof to the inventor's fear. It was pathetic. And Izar would take great pleasure in hunting the man down.
"Izar," a voice spoke softly within the shadows.
Izar paused, his shoulders tensing when he recognized the one who spoke. "Lily," he greeted back tensely.
She was leaning heavily against the dark wall, her face drawn and pale. Crimson hair hung around her thin face in a heavy curtain. Her green eyes were similar to his own eyes when his glamours were down. Only, hers was darker, less predatory and far more haunted.
A small smile twitched her lips at his greeting, but it deepened into a frown a moment later. "I want to ask if you could come for dinner tonight."
Izar flinched back. "I don't think so."
He made a move to leave, but a cold and small hand curled around his wrist. "Please," she murmured. "It's strictly professional. James and Sirius will be there for dinner, but I wanted to speak to you privately about this invention. My home will be the safest to discuss it."
She knew. She knew about the invention and seemed rather frightened about it. "Do you know who came up with the idea?"
Her fingers loosened around his wrist before letting go entirely. "No," she denied, her expression suddenly turning cold and inexpressive. "The group hasn't met yet. I suppose Rufus was waiting for your approval first. Tomorrow is our first meeting. I wanted to speak to you first about it." Lily paused, searching his face. "If you would allow me to, that is?"
Izar breathed deeply through his nostrils, turning away from her in order to look further down the corridor. It wasn't the place to further question her on the invention. Both of them knew as much. "No underhanded tactics? Strictly professional?"
He was foolish to think relief would have washed across her features at his agreement. Instead, a cool acceptance took its place. She was too far gone for showing relief.
"Nothing of the sort," she agreed. "What would you prefer for dinner?"
His eyes widened a fraction at the casual question. Was it so unbelievable to find himself in this situation? After so many years of avoidance and dislike, he was now standing in front of her, being asked what he wanted for dinner.
"Pasta," he murmured before turning his heel and leaving her behind.
Merlin. What had he gotten himself into?
{Death of Today}
"Our Lord will be most pleased to hear about your whereabouts tonight," the Death Eater sneered at Izar from behind his mask.
Izar flashed an irritated look at the Death Eater who hovered around the tree across the street. It was constant. This surveillance. Voldemort had men watching every step he took. There was at least two Death Eaters outside Grimmauld every day, rotating shifts every few hours. There were some in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, St. Mungo's, and… here, of all places. Across from the Potter residence. Briefly, Izar wondered if Voldemort had placed a tracking charm on him. He wouldn't put it past the man to do so.
He did, however, wonder why the man was doing this. Just with the manipulation of Rufus, there were countless of possible answers to Voldemort's motives. The Death Eaters weren't being shy about their surveillance, so Izar figured Voldemort hadn't stressed stealth. The man couldn't be watching for his disloyalty. It was too obvious. Voldemort must believe that Izar needed protection. From the French?
The Death Eaters surrounding him could either be for protection or… just to keep tabs on Izar.
It was pitiful to admit, but Izar found himself missing the bastard's company. His creature seemed rather put out and on edge without Voldemort's proximity. It wasn't a strong urge, but Izar was conscious of it. He knew the Dark Lord was feeling the same as Izar, if not amplified.
Because Izar felt a slight tug toward the Dark Lord only made him even more determined to stay away from Voldemort until Yuletide—the date they agreed on. Izar would not break first and seek the man's infuriating presence out. And he knew Voldemort would feel the same determination.
But this… this was cheating. Sending his men after Izar.
Usually, when Izar was aware of the shadowing, he ignored it entirely. Tonight, though, he wasn't feeling so patient.
He took a step away from the Potter household and toward the Death Eater. The wards hummed around him, reminding Izar that the Potter's were probably aware of his presence. He had to make this quick.
"I couldn't give a rat's arse how the Dark Lord will react to my whereabouts," Izar called out softly, pinning the Death Eater with a light smirk. The servant was of Second Tier. And the Death Eater thought himself ingenious by hiding in the darkness, but Izar could see him quite clearly. "You can tell our Lord that I miss him just as much as he misses me. But I believe his obsession is far from healthy."
The Death Eater blanched, horrified. "Your tongue deserves to be cut from your mouth, you little brat."
Izar cocked his head to the side in agreement, but otherwise remained silent as he turned back to the Potter household.
Dismissing the fuming Death Eater behind him, Izar knocked sharply on the door, dreading this confrontation. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he could speak with Sirius alone. It had been awhile since their last conversation, since Izar's last attempt at converting his uncle. He needed to gauge where Sirius' loyalties stood now that he was on friendly terms with James Potter again.
The door opened quickly, revealing a grinning Sirius Black. His uncle gazed down at Izar through eager eyes, completely oblivious to the Death Eater across the street.
"Sirius," Izar greeted softly. He sniffed, looking away from Sirius' irritating grin to straighten his button-down shirt. He hadn't worn robes. He didn't see any reason why he should impress the Potters when they would likely be in wooly sweaters and jeans.
Suddenly, strong arms grabbed Izar and engulfed him in a strong embrace. The younger wizard blinked at the force of the hug, not accustomed to such intimacy. But with Sirius, he should be used to anything.
"It's good to see you, kid," Sirius grunted, nearly breaking Izar's rib in half. After setting down an exasperated Izar, Sirius continued to ruffle his neatly arranged waves.
Izar glowered, batting away Sirius' hands. "It's good to see you as well, Sirius." Though, his tone suggested he wished he were somewhere else.
Sirius grinned widely, stepping aside and allowing Izar entrance. The wards moaned at the action, detecting the Dark magic that cloaked Izar's person. To an experienced Light wizard, and to the wards that detected and warded against Dark magic, a wizard who practiced the Dark Arts was, in all ways, similar to a cigarette smoker. Even if the individual had not smoked a cigarette for a few hours, they would still smell of cigarette smoke to those surrounding him or her.
A greasy film often surrounded a Dark wizard. To Light wizards, it was often unpleasant and struck instant caution and suspicion. But those who could detect the film were only the experienced few.
The Potter wards, on the other hand, could easily detect Izar's involvement with the Dark. Sirius' smile dimmed just briefly at the ward's groan before he perked up under Izar's careful inspection.
No one was fooling anyone tonight. Everyone present knew Izar was of the Dark. It would be foolish to think otherwise. It was the Potter's who were risking their safety by opening their home to Izar. Then again, the Potter's residence wasn't exactly private knowledge. It was just a small cottage a few miles north of Diagon Alley. And James Potter, being a notorious Auror, most likely had an easy escape route if their home was ever under attack.
And speaking of the man…
"Mr. Black," James Potter announced his presence in the foyer. The man was dressed more formally than Izar would have though, with a pressed shirt and slacks. His hair, though, was a hideous bird's nest and his glasses were a bit askew. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly."
Properly. It was true that Izar had never met James Potter formally. They met briefly in the tent of the Triwizard Tournament during the Second Task, but other than that, they had never found themselves face to face.
Izar took a closer look at the man, diving past the glasses, the messy hair, and the idiotic half-smile. The first thing the Black heir noticed was the cautiousness. James Potter held himself ready to defend himself and those around him. His body position screamed evidence of a skilled and noteworthy fighter. There were hard lines around his eyes, lines that were not induced by good-humor, but of stress and emotional drain.
There was also distrust in those hazel eyes. Izar was pleased to see it there as James gazed at him. At least someone had the audacity to realize they were on two different sides of the battlefield.
"Please call me Izar, Mr. Potter," the Black heir murmured, taking the man's hand and giving it a firm shake. The man at least earned Izar's respect by being realistic and not blinded by false optimisms like Sirius and Lily.
James inclined his head. "Then you may call me James."
Sirius came forth, clapping both men on the shoulder. "Better than I thought it would go," Izar's uncle breathed, obvious relief across his face.
Izar and James both turned away from one another to give Sirius their attention, both their expressions varying. James with a slight smile and Izar with a pronounced frown and a raised eyebrow. His uncle had the wrong impression if he thought Potter and he were getting along. Languages, or in this case, warnings, were deeper than words. In the span of one minute and a few polite pleasantries, James had warned Izar that he was being watched in his home.
"I'm glad you came, I didn't think you'd show."
Izar turned away from Sirius and glanced at the small figure next to the kitchen. She had her hair tied back, bringing attention to the sharp cheekbones he had inherited from her and Regulus. "I told you I would be here. I don't go back on my promises."
Lily offered a light smile before turning her heel. "Dinner is ready. I'm sure you'd like to leave as soon as possible. We can discuss Rufus' invention after we've eaten."
The dinner involved pasta like Izar had requested at the Department of Mysteries. The food was decent, but ever since Izar became immortal, food didn't appeal to him as much as it used to. It tasted a bit bland to him. Blood had taken the place of food. And while Izar didn't partake in blood very often, whenever he did, it always settled his nerves and quenched the slight craving inside him.
While the food was decent, the conversation during dinner wasn't anything short of uncomfortable. Sirius was in one of his moods. The type of mood that lifted the man's spirits and rendered him similar to that of a misbehaving child. His uncle was likely and most certainly bipolar. There were times Sirius was as high as a Muggle kite and other times he allowed the darkness inside him to get the better of him. During those times, he became somber and serious—so unlike his other persona.
Even James and Lily seemed uncertain about Sirius' lack of boundaries and carefree attitude. Lily remained silent, her attention on her barely eaten plate of food and her husband. James, on the other hand, seemed interested in Sirius' antics but remained quiet nonetheless.
"I apologize for Sirius, though, I'm sure you're used to him acting this way," Lily confessed after dinner. Sirius and James had left kitchen, leaving Izar and Lily alone to speak. "He was just so worried about tonight. He wanted things to go smoothly."
Izar was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a hot cup of tea but refusing to drink it. His mother was sitting two stools next to him, keeping a respectable distance. "His expectations are too high and unrealistic," Izar murmured darkly. "It would be best if he becomes grounded again."
Lily's lips twitched briefly before she cleared her expression once again. "James will set Sirius straight. In the meantime, I believe we need to talk about Rufus' invention."
"So you say," Izar retorted. "You seem rather passionate about this invention." He didn't know what think about Lily's enthusiasm when it came to Rufus' idea to take down the Dark side. Was she eager? Frightened? Angry? At the Department of Mysteries, she appeared frightened almost. But in this light, Lily appeared nothing short of impassive.
"I'm against this," she admitted softly.
"Against it?" Izar pushed, smiling bitterly. "But it will destroy the Dark side successfully, no? Why should you be against something that will lean toward your favor?"
Her fingers tightened around her own tea cup, her green eyes assessing Izar. "Because I don't agree with stripping someone's magic. Rufus Scrimgeour believes he can just erase this invention once we use it on the Death Eaters. But it will never be that easy. When word gets out that we defeated the Dark with such an invention, it will spark interest and curiosity in power-hungry wizards. They will make their own inventions and destroy their enemies. It will be a vicious circle. Soon, our kind will be but fairytales Muggle child hear before bedtime."
She made a valid point. Rufus was a fool to believe he could keep this under wraps. He was a fool in general and Izar found his respect for the man lessen considerably. Was the Minister that desperate to defeat the Death Eaters that he needed to put the Wizarding world at risk?
"Alright," he nodded sharply, stirring the amber liquid inside his cup. His lips pursed at his reflection in the tea. "You sound sincere enough. Anyone who has the mind to actually support this invention needs to be eliminated." He glanced up at her, reluctantly finding someone he could relate to and aid him. "What do you suggest?"
Lily hesitated, looking above Izar's head. "I know that you don't trust me, Izar. But I find myself frightened about the consequences of this invention. The future will be grim if this comes to pass. We need to stop the production or somehow destroy it before it has a chance to function."
"I understand that," he agreed, a bit shortly. Real fear was in her eyes as she glanced from the wall back to Izar's face. "But we can't just sit here and express the unfairness of it. A solution will not be found tonight. We need to learn the facts of who is in charge and what they have in mind. After which, we can formulate a plan."
He stood up, glancing around the kitchen. The Potter household was small, cozy. But not something Izar would expect a pure-blood Potter to live in. Their location most likely had to do with Lily's wish to remain as simple as possible. Other Potter manors probably sat around the country, dusty with their lack of use just like the Black manors.
His tall height dwarfed her sitting form. For a long moment, he held her gaze, finding nothing in them but a determination to eliminate Rufus' invention. Briefly, he wondered if there was any emotion inside the woman save for whatever she was facing the moment. The normal human being had a torment of emotions. They were faced with multiple of issues every day and could never find peace within themselves.
Was Lily just an empty void, faced with nothingness until a serious concern stood in her way? Did she only focus on one thing at a time?
It was difficult to pinpoint, but something Izar found intriguing.
Reluctantly, he held out his hand. Green eyes widened a fraction as they looked at his offered hand. "Are you willing to work with me on this?" he questioned her earnestly.
Lily nodded before taking his hand, her skin cold even to his own hand. Suddenly, Izar curled his fingers completely around her small appendage and pulled her forward. Her sudden gasp tickled the small hairs on his face, evidence that they were mere inches from one another.
He made sure he held her gaze as he stared back at her coldly. "This does not mean we are suddenly going to find condolence in each other. And it does not mean we are on the same side of the war. If you make the mistake of betraying me with this invention or deceiving me, I will have no qualms of killing you and your husband. Our sole purpose is to reverse the effects of Rufus' ingenious plan. Nothing else. Are we clear?"
Being this close to her, Izar made the inconsequential observation that her dark lashes were, in fact, a dark auburn. She blinked, staring at him with little emotion. Unlike her husband, who now stood on guard in the doorway, she was the picture of serenity.
"Yes," she breathed, her eyes tracing his face almost obsessively. "I understand just perfectly."
Izar released her hand as if it burned and turned his shoulder. "Then we will meet later this week to discuss this in more detail." He brushed past a stiff James Potter before pausing. Turning back to the figure on the stool, he gave a short bow. "Thank you for the dinner."
Without waiting for a response, Izar turned for the door, but not before spotting Sirius leaning against the wall. His expression was shadowed, his earlier high finally bringing him back to reality. Izar gave him a nonchalant look before opening the front door and leaving the trio behind. Tonight was not the night to press his uncle about his allegiances.
He did not want to get close to any of them or spend any more time with them than necessary. The only reason he accepted Lily's help was because he could not do this by himself. It was such a large invention with such large consequences if it was put to use.
A part of him wished he could find a way around the bound silence and speak to Voldemort about it. And yet, another part of him wanted to find a way to terminate this invention without the Dark Lord's help.
{Death of Today}
"Is it true? Last night, Mr. Black went to the Potter household?" Lucius asked Undersecretary Riddle in his office at the Ministry.
Undersecretary Riddle glanced up at Lucius with an air of monotony. "It was reported, Lucius, yes."
Lucius frowned, sitting further against the uncomfortable chair in front of the Undersecretary's large oak desk. "And?" the blond pressed, hoping to gauge out a reaction from the Dark Lord about his favored Death Eater's actions. "What do you think about that?"
Riddle removed his faux glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "When you unleash a wild dog, Lucius, it will always run. It will sniff out a new territory, curious about the new surroundings before eventually returning to its Master. Mr. Black will be no different. Only, when the dog returns to its Master, its tail hangs low between its legs. You can be sure Izar will have his chin lifted when he returns into our fold."
It was a reasonable enough analogy. And Lucius was most interested to hear that the Dark Lord was allowing Izar to run free. At first, Lucius believed the Dark Lord was giving Izar time to recuperate from his father's accident. In reality, the man was just testing out his favorite Death Eater, measuring the extent of the boy's loyalty. Nonetheless, Lucius was… almost flabbergasted that the Dark Lord was confident enough to unleash the boy's chain.
"You don't believe Izar will find comfort with his mother? Now that his father is deposed of, will he find security with the Light?" Lucius expressed his concerns. He did not want the Black prodigy to side with the Light.
"I once believed that it was possible," Riddle confessed, tilting his head in a way that proved he was thinking about the question. "But I doubt he will find the Light side to his liking. The Black heredities are bred deep within him despite his Mudblood mother's influence. The Light side can't possibly sate his darker cravings." The man shared a dark smile with Lucius. "However, Mr. Black has always been curious about objects or people he is interested in. He is drawn to his mother for reasons I am not aware of. Once he fleshes out her character and his uncle's allegiances, Mr. Black will be grounded once again."
Lucius pursed his lips, relieved, but not outwardly showing it. "That is good to hear," he drawled, caressing his platinum cane. He paid special attention to the green gems on the serpent's eyes. "The war is beginning to grow more complicated. His participation would be most welcome."
"Indeed," was all the Undersecretary said in return.
Lucius cleared his throat, standing. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Riddle—"
"Sit back down, Lucius; I'm not through with you yet."
Lucius sat down quickly, ignoring the slight pain racing through his lower spine at the abrupt action. The man's tone suggested there was something unpleasant to discuss.
Riddle caressed the parchment in front of him, seemingly ignoring Lucius' presence. "Your wife is beautiful, Lucius."
Lucius stiffened a fraction, his suspicion rising. "Yes, sir, very beautiful," he agreed full heartedly with a sliver of dread and trepidation. What was the Dark Lord hinting at, exactly? Did he wish to take his wife to bed? If that were the case, Lucius wouldn't know how to react. Surely it would be an honor, but Narcissa was his wife… something Lucius had trouble swallowing if she were to couple with the Dark Lord.
Riddle looked up at him, a stern line to his mouth. "Would you consider her more beautiful than Izar Black? Or do you think he would surpass her?"
The blond remained still, unable to form any coherent words. He must not slip. And yet, he did not know what the Dark Lord wanted from him. "My wife, sir, is far more beautiful." It was a simple lie. And judging from the Dark Lord's stare, he sensed it. Lucius shook his head. "I love my wife, Mr. Riddle. She is the most beautiful creature in my eyes. Even her flaws. Though, if I was not so attached or involved with her, I would say that… Mr. Black is of… he is sculptured beautifully. An exotic specimen among mere humans."
Riddle's expression became darker, resembling his Dark Lord façade far more than his political frontage. "Would you bed him?" the man asked silkily, sending goose bumps down Lucius' back.
"I would never betray my wife—"
"That is not what I asked you," Riddle hissed, leaning forward and placed his hands levelly on the desk. "Consequences of your wife be damned, would you bed him? The truth, Lucius. Do not tire me with petty lies."
"Yes," Lucius admitted through clenched teeth.
Riddle sat back, eyeing Lucius through unreadable eyes. Shadows clung to the man, indication that the danger was not gone. It would never be gone. "He is a boy, Lucius. And you still feel a primal urge with him?"
Lucius found himself chuckling despite the situation. "Izar Black is so much a boy as I am. There may be times he slips and his age shows through, but he is an old spirit. If I was not married to an accomplished woman, I would have no qualms with sleeping with him. In fact, I may find it exhilarating to be with a dominant younger than me." And Lucius knew that Izar Black would be the dominant in bed. Though, he pushed the thought away, in fear he would enjoy the taste of something so forbidden.
Riddle appeared far from pleased with Lucius' admission. "I hope you keep that in mind next time your loins get the better of you, Lucius. You have a wife that will hold you accountable should you slip." The Undersecretary leaned forward, offering Lucius a wide smile that would be better suited for a hungry serpent. "If that does not encourage you to stay away from him, just know I will take great enjoyment in cutting off your hands and rendering you an invalid. Death would be far too merciful. Your gold should go first and then your wand. The life of a Muggle would serve just fine as punishment."
Lucius blanched despite himself, finding it difficult to imagine that consequence to befall him. "I understand, Mr. Riddle. He is yours."
"He is mine," Riddle agreed. "Just as you are and anyone who is branded. I would rather not have his mind elsewhere during the war. You will do well not to distract him."
The Dark Lord could always fool him, but with this, Lucius knew all too well that something deeper was going on between the Dark Lord and Izar Black. This conversation was just evidence of such a tantalizing relationship. It was best to remember that the next time Lucius became charmed by Mr. Black's appearance and power. Merlin have mercy on anyone ignorant enough to touch Izar Black. For the Dark Lord would hunt them down and destroy them slowly and gleefully.
Lucius would agree not to touch Izar sexually, but he could not promise to stay away. Izar Black was destined for great things and Lucius would be the first to witness them.
{Death of Today}
Izar carefully lifted the lid of the basket, smiling sinisterly as he gazed down at the anesthetized viper. She was over twelve feet long and full of vibrant green scales and a few other exotic colors lingering on her back.
Perfect. Of course, perfection was only expected for him.
"What is your name?" Izar hissed in Parseltongue, the first time using it since being turned into Voldemort's creature.
The serpent eyed Izar warily, tiredly, her forked-tongue escaping her mouth to taste Izar. It reminded him vividly of Voldemort's own forked-tongue and how the man most likely used it to taste lies.
"Nagini, my young speaker," she replied conceitedly. Her scales contrasted as she slowly began to stretch from the basket and out toward Izar. Her tongue continued to taste him and it brushed his arm just briefly before she stretched further and curled around his forearm. "Where is your mate? You smell heavily of him."
Izar gave a slight scoff. Amusing how he could smell so heavily of the Dark Lord when they hadn't even…
"He is preoccupied at the moment," he responded stiffly as her heavy weight twisted up and around his neck. "He will be your future Master." Just as he was Izar's, unfortunately.
She coiled around his shoulders and neck, coming back around to stare at him in the face. "I assume he will take good care of me? I require proper meals and enough petting to satisfy me."
"I'm sure he will do that and more," Izar began lightly, turning to eye his workbench that included layers of dusty tomes and piles of discarded artifacts that hadn't made it past his inspection. "He will be taken aback by your beauty, I'm sure."
"Of course he will. I would expect no less," she hissed smugly.
Izar held in the smile that wanted to come forth. She was just as arrogant as her future Master. The two would get along famously. Though, it was a bit of a pity that Nagini would eventually be targeted by the Light side and later killed. Perhaps he could find another serpent? One that would be less of a suited companion for the Dark Lord?
No. Nagini would need to be the serpent.
He was looking forward to presenting her to the Dark Lord at Yuletide.
For those of you who are worried about the lack of affection (Slash) between Voldemort and Izar—we will get to that during Yuletide. After which, you'll be seeing a fair share of Voldemort for the rest of the story. I will not, however, ever sacrifice the plot just to write mindless lemon scenes. Until then, I just need a few more things to happen while they are apart. You've gone this far without many Izar/Voldemort scenes; you can go a few more chapters. Hopefully. Like I told a few of my readers, they have overcome a large barrier in their relationship last chapter. It will only improve from this point forward. Of course, it will never be a *smooth* relationship…
