Chapter Twenty-Two

"Mr. Riddle! Mister Riddle!"

Lucius slithered in the background of the crowd of reporters and photographers, trying in vain to veil his smug smirk. His shifty eyes danced across the bright camera flashes and the reporters' desperate faces as they leaned forward and tried to get the answers their readers wanted to hear. But the most appealing thing, or person, to look at was the disgruntled Undersecretary Riddle. Or… former Undersecretary Riddle.

Earlier this morning, Rufus Scrimgeour had finally used his ranking as Minister to reprieve Tom Riddle of his position as the Undersecretary. While the man had the power to relieve Riddle, it could be appealed in court. Rufus had no solid evidence of Riddle's involvement in the war. He released Riddle of his entitlement simply out of suspicion. But no matter how easily it would be to challenge Scrimgeour's order and win the case, Riddle only had the intention to sit back and direct the public with a lazy hand and a few manipulative words.

For this exact move from Scrimgeour was what Riddle had been hoping for. The political portion of the war was now in motion. Riddle would begin to induce doubt in the public's view of Scrimgeour. And shortly, the public would eventually look toward Riddle and the changes he would make to the Britain Wizarding World.

Lucius was just fortunate to be one of the few Death Eaters who knew Lord Voldemort's, or rather Riddle's, true motives. The only others who were aware of Riddle's political motives were Bellatrix Lestrange, Izar Black, and Regulus Black. Those three, including Lucius, were present at Grimmauld Place when Voldemort revealed what he had planned. Though, Bellatrix couldn't care a less about these smooth political maneuvers and there were whispers of Regulus Black straying permanently from the Death Eaters.

The only other to enjoy this stunning spectacle was most likely out of the country. A pity. But understandable. For now.

Lucius found himself grinning despite his qualms of remaining impassive at this public function. Izar Black was truly a remarkable specimen.

For weeks, the boy had been absent from the Death Eater scene. While most of the Death Eaters believed Izar to be traitorous with his endless visits with Lily Potter and her husband, Lucius was—again—granted with inside knowledge from the Dark Lord that Izar's absence was a test of loyalty. And loyalty was exactly what Izar proved only a day ago. Lucius couldn't have been more thrilled with how Izar went about his declaration to the Dark Lord.

If only more men could be as fearless and proud of their loyalties as Izar Black. Izar's choice of exposure certainly pleased the Dark Lord. During the weeks of Izar's absence, Lucius had noted a dramatic peak in the Dark Lord's temper. Nothing had pleased the Dark Lord. Though, yesterday night, after the raid, Voldemort's spirits had most certainly been lifted.

Lucius' respect for Izar had only heightened with last nights' events. He had been inside the Unspeakable contraption when it had activated. He had felt his magic weaken to dangerous levels and felt the pure exhaustion leak through his bones and his pride and honor slowly dissolve into nothingness. Lucius knew what the invention had intended and he also knew, that if it had succeeded, he would have never been able to live with himself.

It was horrifying to know that the enemy knew how to construct a contraption that would take away a wizard's magic. Though, Lucius found himself unable to fret over it too much. The Dark Side had the one wizard that knew everything about the invention while also possessing the knowledge to stop it.

Lucius remembered kneeling on the cold ground inside the contraption, horror washing through his veins. At that moment, he had never felt as disgraceful as he did then. He had kneeled there, yelling from the shock of not feeling… not feeling that comfortable weight of power and magic. Through slit eyes, he had only… Merlin—he had pleaded for Izar or the Dark Lord to stop the invention somehow.

For the first few hours following the incident, Lucius couldn't recollect what happened simply because he had been ashamed of his disgraceful behavior. Looking back on it now, Lucius could only marvel at how beautiful Izar appeared in his determination to destroy the invention.

"How do you feel about Minister Scrimgeour's decision to prosecute your position as Undersecretary? And do you plan to challenge it?"

Lucius drew his attention back on the present, watching in intrigue as Tom Riddle finally came to a stop before the herding reporters. Riddle appeared frazzled ad almost drained to the ignorant eye. Others would see the predatory and sharp light omitting from beneath those charmed brown eyes.

With a weathered hand, Riddle disarrayed his peppered hair. "It's upsetting to be out of an office I served faithfully for many years," Riddle responded in a controlled voice. Around him, the crowd seemed to lean in further, entranced with the mere mechanism Riddle possessed. "Throughout the years I have served, I have had nothing but the Ministry's best interests at heart. Not only the Ministry, but also Britain and its people."

A very skilled side-step to the question in answer. Lucius knew Riddle would avoid the second half of the reporter's question. Already, the reporters most likely have forgotten it themselves.

Riddle took off his glasses and began to rub the lenses with a handkerchief. "Despite my faithfulness to the Ministry, I have to express my relief of being released from working alongside Rufus Scrimgeour."

This caused an array of new questions, all with different takes, but Riddle remained looking down nonchalantly as he cleaned his glasses. Lucius sniffed, leaning casually against a far pillar and watching the events unfold. This would be history. And he would remember each and every detail.

"When Rufus Scrimgeour was elected Minister," Riddle began again, silencing the reporters. "I was looking forward to the changes he would make within the Ministry. The Wizarding World needs to evolve with the ever-changing times. For many decades we have had the same policy, the same beliefs, and the same laws in place. I would have thought Scrimgeour would be the man who could change our Ministry for the better."

All lies of course. Lucius' belly warmed with suppressed amusement. Riddle knew exactly what kind of man Scrimgeour was, which was why the Dark Lord had all but placed Rufus in the Minister chair himself.

Riddle cocked his head to the side, finally finishing with his lenses and placing them back upon his nose. With a renowned intensity, the ex-Undersecretary met eyes with the circle of reporters. "Alas, Scrimgeour has only reversed the Ministry and created more corruption within its Departments. Rufus Scrimgeour may have been an outstanding Auror, but he will never be a successful leader of our society. His only goal is to destroy this army of Death Eaters. He's going about it the wrong way."

Very nice. Riddle had expressed Scrimgeour's weakness with subtly. Riddle preached that Rufus was a decent Auror and would only be that Auror. Not a politician.

"And how would you suggest Minister Scrimgeour go about improving his methods?" a reporter challenged.

"With all due respect," Riddle began airily. "I think it would be impossible for Minister Scrimgeour to consider any other method but brute force." Riddle shook his head with a charming smile. "This army of Death Eaters only responds to Minister Scrimgeour's brute force with double the intensity. I do not think they will lessen their attacks on Muggles and wizards without a sort of compromise."

This made most of the reporters pause in shock before their quick-quills scratched swiftly on their pads. Lucius nodded once, impressed with Riddle's light subtly.

"Compromise? With terrorists?" One reporter demanded, their expression morphed into surprise and disgust.

The man's reaction was to be expected. The public would be in indignation over Riddle's supposed idea of compromise. But when Rufus continued to prove himself inefficient, the public would begin to see that his methods were not working and then turn to Riddle as a last resort. A brilliant scheme on the Dark Lord's part.

Riddle only blinked at the reporter with sympathy. "I do not support the Death Eater's way of voicing their opinions. I do not like the killings or the destruction. However, I think it would be prudent to compromise with some of their demands. Within reason, of course. A compromise with them would never put Britain in jeopardy and it would also stop these raids and the deaths of our loved ones and children."

"And what makes you believe that the Death Eaters would agree to a compromise?" a woman asked in the front row.

An amused chuckle escaped from Riddle as he began to maneuver out of the Ministry and away from the reporters. "The Death Eaters are over-dramatic. They just want their voice to be heard."

It was the end of this interview. Lucius knew there would be more interviews to come. The press were interested in this new take and the public would like to hear more about this 'outrageous' view on the war. At the moment, Rufus was still hanging onto the public's favor by his fingernails. Within a few more raids and major losses, Riddle's ideas would be put into motion.

"Izar Black," someone shouted at Riddle's turned back.

Almost taking his own leave, Lucius paused, curiously gauging the Dark Lord's reaction. The blond knew the Dark Lord didn't fault Izar for revealing himself as a Death Eater, but Lucius believed that the Dark Lord did not like the fact that his Death Eater was on the run—away from him.

Riddle's shoulders stiffened marginally and there was possessiveness in his stare as he turned to the bold reporter. "What of Izar Black?" Riddle murmured softly, dangerously. A bit of the Dark Lord peeked through at the possible threat posed toward his favorite Death Eater.

The woman had the grace to appear ashamed but her craving for a good story made her continue with the questioning. "He is a wanted criminal for joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. Many Aurors and Unspeakables witnessed his betrayal first-hand at last night's attack. I know he hasn't been your political heir for very long, but what do you think about his involvement with the Death Eaters?"

"Children are very impressionable," Riddle whispered softly in response. "Izar Black experienced Minister Scrimgeour's poor leadership firsthand and most likely decided he wanted to take a stand against the Minister's deceit and join the Death Eaters. I know Izar. He's a very intelligent young man. He would never join a cause without knowing the consequences beforehand." Riddle held up a hand as questions arouse again. "That is all."

Lucius watched Tom Riddle depart and anticipated Izar's attendance at Yuletide. It would certainly tickle the Dark Lord and raise the man's mood. It wouldn't be a very enjoyable Yuletide with an impossible Lord.

The blond knew there would be Ministry officials watching the gates of Malfoy Manor, which was why he sent Izar a Port-key for admittance directly into the Manor.

He had yet to hear a response. But he knew Izar rather well and believed the boy wouldn't pass up a chance at making an entrance.

{Death of Today}

Izar stood in front of the window, staring numbly across the snowy landscape of the Black Manor in Scotland. He couldn't see much of the scenery past the thick frost encrusted on the window. The morning sun caught the thicker shards of ice and reflected strongly off them, making it almost unbearable for Izar to look at.

Today was the day Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy opened their home to political guests and supporters of the Dark Lord. They most likely had House-elves dusting every inch of the Manor and polishing every golden door handle and candle-stick holder. Today was also the day Izar could finally come in contact with the Dark Lord. There were many things Izar wanted to discuss with Voldemort. And there was also… just that guilty pleasure of wanting to be near the man and his bloody arrogance.

Izar breathed deeply, squinting into the window. The past two days had been most eventful with murders, threatening, and sleuthing. Izar had personally visited all the Unspeakables who had a hand in the invention minus Lily and Conner Oran. Izar would leave Oran for last, wanting the boy to feel frightened for his life when he heard of his coworkers' deaths.

Out of the seventeen Unspeakables who worked on the invention, twelve were killed by his hand and four had impressed Izar enough with their reassurance that they would never consider creating one again. Those four had survived with only a warning that Izar would be watching.

The other?

"Did you sleep well?" Izar murmured, facing the window in order to hide his growing smirk.

Behind him, a sharp intake of breath sounded. Izar's sharp ears could easily pick up the frantic heartbeat in the woman's chest. She had been the last Unspeakable he visited last night. Elizabeth Spenelli, a pretty Mudblood with black hair and shocking blue eyes.

Izar's goal had been to destroy as many as the Unspeakables as he could within the shortest time frame. If Izar had been any slower in killing the Unspeakables, the Ministry would have relocated the rest of the group and put a ridiculous amount of protection layers around their location. It was a headache Izar hadn't wanted to deal with, hence the reason he finished his hunt yesterday.

It had been far too late when he arrived at Elizabeth's home. With the late—or early—hour, he hadn't been able to think clearly as she cried hysterically and begged him not to kill her. So, he brought her here to sleep on the decision of either sparing her life or killing her.

Sad thing was…he hadn't slept a wink. The Prophet arrived with Riddle's statement of being removed as Undersecretary and Izar had been mulling over it since. He had been mulling over many things the past day or so. Regulus included. And Aiden.

After the leaving St. Mungo's that night after the raid, Izar had traveled to Grimmauld to pack a few things, mainly the Horcruxes he was working on and anything else worth saving. Aiden had informed Izar that the 'red-eyed' man had come over that morning when Izar was at the Ministry. Apparently, Voldemort had forcibly induced a vision from Aiden in order to see hazy glimpses of the attack that would come to pass.

Inducing visions from Seers were incredibly painful for the Seer in question. Izar had fumed silently at Voldemort when Aiden confessed what had happened with dry blood stained on his shirt as evidence to his bloody nose. The Dark Lord would never lay a hand on Aiden like that again. If done too much, Aiden's mind could collapse in on itself. Plus, the boy was his, not Voldemort's.

Nonetheless, Izar had apologized to Aiden for not being there and promptly began packing. Upon watching Izar pack, Aiden broke down in tears and begged Izar not to leave. The boy claimed it would be the last time he would see him if he left. Izar had barely batted a lash at the confession, pushing Aiden away in order to make a clean departure.

Looking back on it now, Izar wondered if it really would be the last time he would see the sniffling brat. And if it was the last time he saw Aiden, would it be the last time he saw his father?

No matter how much Izar wanted his father's presence with him, he knew this was for the best. Regulus had been in hiding for the better part of his life. His father deserved to live a relatively normal life. And at least one Black needed to keep up appearances. Still, Izar pondered on Regulus' sudden turn of opinion and his sudden good mood that seemed far too bright considering the consequences of his condition.

Izar breathed deeply to control his temper. With his hands clasped behind his back, Izar glared into the ice crystals.

Severus Snape. The man had been digging and rearranging things in Regulus' mind during his recovery. Izar had no idea what was said between the two, what was done, and what transpired. But if there was someone to blame, it would be Snape. And Izar had every intention of confronting the man at Yuletide.

"I slept as best as I could, considering the circumstances," the woman behind him started, startling Izar from his musings.

"Meaning?" Izar drawled wearily. There was a throbbing migraine at his temple. He shouldn't be here, standing with her at a time like this. He was exhausted, angry, and impatient. His decision regarding her fate would be biased. Unless, of course, he found a semblance of tolerance in the next few seconds.

Which was highly unlikely.

"The door was locked. The window was locked. I couldn't even go to the restroom. How do you think I slept?" she forced out through clenched teeth. "I know very well why you kidnapped me."

Izar finally turned away from the window and eyed her. She was sitting down at the large breakfast table, food laid untouched in front of her. Izar hadn't eaten either. The House-elf staying at the Scotland Black Manor had prepared it for the both of them. Luckily, Izar had been able to enter the Black Manor without resistance. Apparently Regulus was still allowing Izar to dabble in both the Black properties and vaults despite his reluctance to support the war. Not that Izar would stay here for very long…

"Oh?" Izar muttered, slowly approaching her. "And why do you think I have kidnapped you?"

Her blue eyes were incredibly light, bringing attention to the sharp and intelligent glimmer beneath the surface. There was redness in the whites of her eyes and the tender skin around her lashes was swollen and tender. She had been crying last night but this morning there was no trace of tears. Instead, she lifted her chin stubbornly. She was a woman in her late thirties, early forties. She was very attractive in his eyes despite her dirty blood.

"You want assistance with constructing another invention for them, the Dark." Her upper lip curled and aggressive aversion entered her eyes. "I'd rather die than help your lot."

Her answer was all he needed. The refusal was geared toward her dislike for the Dark, not the invention itself. All the others Izar had spared had spoken against the invention, not the Death Eaters. In fact, they hadn't even expressed repugnance toward the Dark Wizards or anything remotely similar. There was nothing but shame in their replies for what they created. They had been overwhelmed and frightened of the power they wielded.

"Lizzy, Lizzy…" Izar whispered, clicking his tongue in disproval. He leaned against the table next to her, reaching out to trace her sharp cheekbone. Izar smiled thinly as she tried to pull her head away, but he held steady fast. "Do you have a husband? Children, perhaps?"

"I'm not telling you anything," she spat.

Izar bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's your loss I suppose," he murmured tiredly. "I wanted to know who to send my condolences to."

Before she could utter another word, Izar pointed his wand at her and cast the Killing Curse. Her lithe body slumped forward in the chair before spilling out onto the floor. Izar blinked as he spied her bladder muscles release, sending the pungent odor of urine across the room.

She really had needed to use the restroom… Obviously, he was a terrible host.

He straightened from the table and crossed the dining area and toward his bedroom. He would have the House-elf dispose of her body shortly. In the meantime, he needed to solve the mystery that was the Horcrux. With his magic-sensitivity, he wondered if he would have an advantage with solving the properties of the fake Horcrux.

It took Izar weeks to finally get the Dark Magic to enter the rat and not kill it. But the Dark Art curses and charms were rather hot-tempered and didn't enjoy staying in a confined space with each other without causing malfunctions. Something else was needed and he could not calculate the exact solution.

Izar entered his room and opened his trunk, all the while, ignoring Nagini and her instance of being pet. His magic-sensitivity could already pick up the failed invention without seeing it. It felt greasy, Dark, and incredibly angry. Exactly what a Horcrux should appear like, but it needed more. It needed more intensity and it needed to be a bit alluring to draw its victims closer. The Light Wizards who searched for it should feel their emotions aroused by the Horcrux. They needed to feel uncomfortable with the intensity of the Dark Magic.

But what? What spell or charm could create such intensity? What could make the Dark Curses all merge together as one and complete the Horcrux?

Izar grabbed the cage that housed the rat and held it closer for inspection. In Izar's eyes, the magic swirled around the rat, cloaking it in shadows. He could clearly see the battle between the Dark Curses and wondered what would make them stop chewing each other up and causing mishap.

Light spells wouldn't work. They would be easily overpowered by the strong Dark Magic within the diminutive space.

Unless, of course, it was a powerful Light spell or sacrifice. Like a soul. Or love. Or…

Or life force.

Izar crossed his legs, suddenly eager. Offering the invention his life force could work. And he didn't even need to drain all of his life force inside the invention; just a small volume of energy was needed from Izar. And with time, his life force would replenish with enough food and sleep. If he were human, creating seven Horcruxes would likely kill him if he drained his energy inside each one. But considering he was forever dead, it would just weaken him—possibly make him tired for a few hours, perhaps days.

There were spells that wizards could cast on victims that were on the verge of death. Spells that would transfer some of their life—or energy—into the dying loved one. It would revive the dying victim long enough to get medical attention.

A rather Light Charm for him, but it would be necessary in order to complete the fake Horcrux.

Izar set down the rat, suddenly feeling more confident and eager than he had in ages. "Oh, Nagini, precious," he hissed with delight. "Come here."

{Death of Today}

"I feel odd…tingly, almost. My scales haven't fallen out, have they?"

Izar stirred from his slumber at the infuriating hissing sounding directly next to his ear.

"Wake up, you foolish human. What did you do to me this time? I have been eyeing this spectacular rat for hours, waiting patiently for my meal and all you've been doing is lying there uselessly. Get him out of this cage—"

"Silence!" Izar hissed darkly. His eyebrows furrowed as he slowly blinked open his eyes. With a quick look around his surroundings, Izar closed his eyes shut, reminding himself again why it was necessary to give his life force away. At the moment, he couldn't seem to come up with a valid reason why this was necessary. He felt like bloody shit.

"Good, you're awake," her tone of voice quieted with concern and a forked tongue ventured out and tickled the skin above his eyebrow.

Izar sighed, allowing the foolish snake her chance of comforting him while he remembered the events leading up to his blackout. Nagini had survived the merge of multiple Dark Curses, only expressing that she was nausea. If serpents could even get nausea, that is. After which, Izar continued with the ritual and drained a small amount of his life force inside her. He hadn't even been able to see the results before promptly falling unconscious.

Now that he was lying on the floor, focused, he could sense Nagini like a beacon. His magic-sensitivity aided him in feeling the allure and the overwhelming darkness, but if he hadn't been magic-sensitive, the results would have been the same—only muted. She was perfect. And the Light would mistake her for a real Horcrux. Izar made certain that he triggered a self-sacrificing curse within Nagini. Once someone attempted to kill her, they would find themselves destroyed in turn.

Self-satisfaction curled in Izar's belly, but he couldn't feel much more than that due to his drowsiness.

Izar grumbled, pushing at Nagini to move her away from his face. With drowsy eyes, he surveyed the room before his attention landed on the darkening sky.

Alarm washed through him. He scrambled up, only to brace himself against the wall as the world spun. Scrunching up his face, he tried to calm his nausea, feeling something akin to vile steadily crawl up his throat. Immortals didn't throw up, did they?

It was already late evening, meaning, he was overdue at Malfoy's Yuletide gathering. Now that his mind was a bit sharper, he could feel a steady burn in his Dark Mark. It wasn't fierce nor was it painful; it was almost as if Izar's tardiness was a rising inconvenience for the Dark Lord. The man was not yet angry, but it would steadily get to that point. A small part of Izar played with the idea of arriving at the Malfoy Manor tomorrow just to get Voldemort's bloody knickers in a bundle.

Ignoring Nagini's hiss of displeasure as he nudged her with the toe of his boot, Izar made his way to his trunk. He needed to prepare himself for the gathering. Dusty and grimy robes would certainly not do.

After what seemed like a sluggish hour, Izar struggled with leaving the shower and dressing. He stood in front of the full-length mirror, trying to adjust his cloak. He had chosen these robes with tonight in mind. Not only would he need confidence when he faced the scrutinizing Death Eaters, but he would be presenting Voldemort with Nagini. Choosing robes was such a petty worry, but he had to admit, the black high-collared robes with red trimming certainly looked… becoming. Far better than the white robes Voldemort constantly made him wear.

He ran a hand through his black waves, smirking as he sauntered back to his trunk. "You need to get back in your cage," Izar hissed at Nagini as he searched for the Port-key Malfoy owled him.

"I think not," the serpent replied, miffed. "No attention for days and you expect me to go in that cramped cage?"

Her haughtiness was getting ridiculous. With his exhaustion, he didn't know how long he could deal with her before he snapped. "You'll be meeting your Master tonight. I don't want anyone else seeing you." Izar drew out the silver chain from the top of his trunk and eyed it critically when he saw the magic glimmering around it in calm waves. Such an expensive thing for being a simple Port-key.

He couldn't imagine anything less from the Malfoys.

Nagini hissed grumpily as her long frame slowly made its way into Izar's trunk. "I expect he'll be a far better caretaker than you," she quipped.

Izar gave a distracted hum, slamming the trunk shut as soon as she was inside. "Don't worry," he murmured. "You two will hit it off splendidly." Either the Dark Lord's and Nagini's personalities clashed or the Dark Lord would simply coddle the irritating serpent because they were so compatible. Though, thinking about it now, Izar was sure the Dark Lord would do his usual taming and turn Nagini into a submissive pile of goo.

He surveyed the dark and empty room, thinking back to last Yuletide when Regulus accompanied him. This year, Izar would be alone, fending for himself. He just hoped his drain of energy wouldn't make him slow to any threats or snide comments.

Taking a deep breath, Izar clutched the handle of his trunk with one hand and his wand and Port-key with the other. Tapping it once, the Black Manor fell away from him as he was pulled through time and space.

The impact on the ground made his knees bend, but otherwise, he remained standing tall. Slowly, he allowed his senses to see the room before he opened his eyes.

In the corner, he could hear a grandfather clock, ticking away the seconds. The warmth from the fireplace on his right caught his attention as did the heartbeat across from him. Upon Izar's arrival, the pulse grew quicker, more excited. But otherwise, the man across from Izar remained motionless and silent.

"Lucius," Izar whispered in greeting, opening his eyes to see the Head of the Malfoy Family sitting regally in an armchair.

They were alone in the parlor with the thick Persia rug beneath his feet and the wet bar standing across the room and below a gold-crusted mirror. Upon setting down his trunk, it disappeared, presumably going to his room. Izar didn't worry too much. The wards around his trunk would create a nasty surprise for anyone foolish enough to try to tamper with it.

Izar pocketed his wand under Lucius' smug eyes, slowly walking to the wet bar. He glanced at the hard liquor, feigning interest but having no intention of drinking anything. "Should…," he trailed off and placed the ice cube tongs back in the chilled bucket before continuing. "Should I feel flattered that you're neglecting your other guests just to await my tentative arrival?" he asked cheekily.

"I knew you would come," Lucius responded with pleasure. "The Dark Lord is otherwise clueless to your arrival. A small surprise for him, I suppose."

"The Dark Lord is never clueless, Lucius," Izar reprimanded lightly. "Nor does he get as excited over surprises as you or me." Izar finally turned away from the ice cubes that rivaled the appearance of diamonds more than frosted ice.

The glamor and glitz of the Malfoy Manor brought a sense of calm to Izar. He was among men who put up fronts and thrived on manipulation and betrayal. Here, he couldn't get emotionally upset if someone chose to back away from the war. Because, even though Izar wanted Regulus to remain happy, his father was putting a large burden on Izar's shoulders. If the Dark Lord found out about Regulus' refusal to even support the Dark, Izar would need to intervene before Voldemort could cause damage. Regulus already betrayed the Dark Lord once. When his father said he would remain neutral, he'd better sit back and keep his damned mouth closed.

Lucius, especially, was a breath of tranquil. Malfoy was someone Izar enjoyed being around. The man's personality was like bloody gold.

"I believe you're correct," Lucius replied. "Conversely, all of us will be more comfortable in the Dark Lord's presence once you've made an appearance."

Izar raised his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

A cruel and amused smile warped Lucius' mouth. "Those five weeks of your absence was absolutely strenuous on the Death Eaters. They might like to agree otherwise, but they know, just as well as I, that the Dark Lord was far more eager to hand out punishments. At first, I was bemused as to the root of the problem, but then I found the common variable. You and your absence was what made the Dark Lord almost unhinged."

The man was challenging him on his relationship with Voldemort. And while the man was certainly correct, Izar's expressionless mask never faltered. "Interesting that you would think the Dark Lord was unstable, Lucius. Don't you agree that our Lord has every right to hand out punishments to the followers who slip up?" he countered.

Lucius only smiled thinly in response. The man appeared even more regal today dressed in a black suit with a matching flowing satin cloak around his shoulders. His long blond hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, bringing attention to his ice-like features. The cold grey eyes could have fooled many people, but Izar could easily spy the warm glow within them.

"You're as presentable as ever. Energized, sharp, and incredibly striking," Lucius murmured as he swept his own eyes down the length of Izar before looking at his face. "But your eyes tell me another story."

Izar offered a small, elegant shrug. "Sleep on the run doesn't come very easily, Lucius."

Lucius stood from his armchair, slowly approaching Izar. "Come; let me escort you to the back of the house."

Izar allowed the hand on his shoulder to guide him toward the backyard where he knew the Death Eaters were present. "Reassure me," Izar began as they zigzagged through a few corridors before approaching the familiar door Izar remembered from last year. A few more paces and they would be outside. "The Death Eaters still want me dead, yes?"

Lucius offered Izar a quick stare. "They believed you betrayed the Dark Lord. Much like your father has for a second time." At the mention of Regulus, Lucius' expression darkened. "Not all the Death Eaters can be graced with my intelligence. Most of us believe you are loyal to boot. While others let their jealousies rule their beliefs. They'd stab you in the back once you let down your guard."

"Good," Izar replied cheerfully. "Anything else would be out of the norm."

The blond raised an amused eyebrow before letting Izar's shoulder go and nodding toward the Third Tier Death Eater guarding the door. The Death Eater cocked his head to the side in cool greeting as he stepped away to allow Lucius entrance. Malfoy went through the door first before holding the door open for Izar. The latter never hesitated as he stepped through the threshold, eager to be back where he belonged.

The theme this year was obviously fire, water, and ice. Small fountains and streams were set up around the expansive gazebo with blue and red flames dancing above the water, mending together to create an exotic purple. Ice sculptures were the center pieces of the separate tables, the beads pooled at their bases different colored gems. The rich food was already served, its warm and succulent aroma wafting through the heated backyard. Small ice-like vessels were stylishly carved and hung near the tent's ceiling with petite flames lit inside to offer a dim illumination for the guests.

Just like last year, the floor plan of the backyard was split into three levels to show the hierocracy. The upper level, draped with black tables and chairs, housed the Dark Lord and his exclusive Inner-Circle. The landing Izar was currently standing upon was reserved for the Second Tier and further along there were three steps that led to the Third Tier Death Eaters.

"Ridiculously impressive as ever," Izar murmured quietly to Lucius.

The blond nodded once. "I will be sure to pass on your compliments to Narcissa."

"Izar!"

Izar turned just in time to open his arms to grudgingly steady both himself and Daphne. He was stiff and rigid as her thin arms squeezed around his torso. Thankfully, she abruptly let go, not wanting to draw any more attention than she already had. The small witch gazed up at Izar, a soft smile settling across her glossed lips. "I've missed you so much," she whispered for his ears only.

Daphne hadn't been a constant in his thoughts during the last few weeks. In fact, the last time his attention had only been on Daphne was during the Ministry ball, right before Rufus Scrimgeour had been elected Minister. However, he found himself surprisingly content to see her. A year ago, Izar would have never thought he would find his classmates' presence welcome.

"And you know I missed you just as much," Izar reassured her, placing his hands on her slim shoulders. He could feel Lucius breathing down his neck and considered the man's hovering. It was grating.

Daphne's smile dimmed as she also noticed Lucius' lingering. "Is Izar needed elsewhere?" she reached out to caress Izar's robes before pulling his weight in the direction of the Third Tier platform. "Because the others are looking forward to speaking to him." She flashed a charming smile at Lucius. Izar knew it to be conniving. "You wouldn't deny Draco a chance with Izar, would you?"

Lucius placed his hand on Izar's shoulder, pulling him against Daphne's pull. Izar grimaced, not finding it particularly pleasing to be caught in the middle of this. Especially when they were standing front and center of the other Death Eaters' stares. Because of this, Izar remained emotionless, the tightening around his mouth the only evidence of his true feelings about being fought over.

"I'm afraid the Dark Lord has already laid claim on Izar's attention, Ms. Greengrass." Lucius replied smoothly. At the mention of the Dark Lord, Daphne reluctantly let Izar's robes go. "After which, I'm sure you and my son will have more than enough time with him."

Izar could feel the eyes on them. One pair of eyes, in particular, were making his skin prickle. His stomach clenched hotly as he thought about being near the Dark Lord once again. The man and his arrogance and unreserved charm. Izar reluctantly admitted that he missed the man's overwhelming presence and demanding challenges, though, he would never admit it out loud. Izar needed someone to verbally spar with once again. And only Voldemort could fill in that position.

"You promise?" Daphne leaned closer, ignoring Lucius in favor of Izar.

He detangled himself from both her and Lucius. "You have my word," Izar responded, appeasing her. She attempted to smile, but something deeper than being denied his presence shifted beneath her eyes. He considered her briefly, but before he could make any conclusions, Lucius brushed past him, urging him to follow.

The walk up to the Inner-Circle platform was much easier than it had been a year ago. He had more confidence now, more assurance of his skills and ability to protect himself. Despite the circumstances surrounding Conner Oran's invention, Izar felt little concern about the Death Eaters' judgment.

Once he closed in on the table, Izar was finally forced to look up, easily meeting the split-crimson eyes. The reaction to seeing Voldemort again was noticeable and rather… disconcerting on Izar's behalf. He quickly looked away from the Dark Lord but not before spotting the smug smirk crossing the man's lips. Little did the man know that Izar could clearly see Voldemort's magic mimic Izar's excitement and arousal. The tension was there, as thick and straining as before.

"Sweet Izar," Bellatrix greeted in a sing-song tone. She patted the empty chair next to her with her long, talon-like nails. "You've finally graced us with your presence. I was worried you were being held back by the Ministry… or your father."

Izar offered her a light grin before seating himself. "And pass up the chance of seeing all these handsomely grinning faces?" Izar gave a pointed look around the table at the group of scowling and grimacing Death Eaters. "I think not."

He allowed his attention to settle on the Dark Lord across from him. The man appeared laid back as he leaned fully against his chair, watching the unfolding events with a sharp and critical eye. Though, his attention was focused primarily on Izar. A suspicious and precarious light entered his eyes the longer he stared at the younger wizard. What did the man see? Or think? Izar frowned back at the Dark Lord, wondering what the ever-knowing man knew now.

There were a few things Izar was hiding from Voldemort; the fact that Regulus might know about Izar's creature-status, Lily and all her many secrets, Regulus' wavering support, and the Horcrux with Izar's choice of sacrificing his life force. The Black heir didn't know what Voldemort's thoughts on the latter would be. Either the Dark Lord would find it necessary for destroying a few key members of the Light or he would find it pathetic that Izar was willingly weakening himself.

Despite the few things Izar would rather not let the man know, Voldemort had just as much to answer to as well. Such as Aiden's mental attack and the fact that Voldemort hadn't suspended Izar from the Death Eaters just to recover from Regulus' attack, but because he had been testing his loyalty with Rufus. It was insulting to Izar to have his loyalty tested. Hadn't he already given Voldemort everything he had?

Izar let his defiance come forth as he stared back at Voldemort. "My Lord," Izar greeted, reluctantly lowering his eyes in submission for the benefit of the surrounding Death Eaters. Lucius, to Voldemort's right, seemed almost giddy with the excitement secreting from him.

"Izar," Voldemort whispered silkily in return. His long fingers tapped once around the goblet in his hand. "It's good to see you returned to my ranks as unharmed as possible."

Izar scoffed. "It has been a long absence, but a productive leave." With his eyes, he tried to inform Voldemort that he enjoyed his time away from the Death Eaters and it hadn't affected him. The ghost of a smile crossing Voldemort's lips proved that the man didn't believe him.

"Very productive," Evelyn Mulciber repeated Izar's words haughtily. The man was one out of three Inner-Circle members who went to school with Tom Riddle as a boy. Ayers Rosier and Cene Lestrange were the other two left of the original Death Eaters. While Lestrange and Rosier both had children in the Inner-Circle, Mulciber's son was of the lowest ranking. And it made Evelyn sour because of it. "Yes, do tell us about working with the Unspeakables… and the Potters."

"I'm afraid the details of my work would slip past your deprived intelligence," Izar replied darkly. Next to him, Bellatrix chuckled beneath her breath, inching closer to Izar as if to offer him support. But he didn't need it.

Evelyn's jaw clenched hotly, but before he could reply, the normally quiet Ayers Rosier leaned forward. The candlelight hung above his head reflected off his bald head. "I would like to know about the invention the Unspeakables created, if you are able to. You were involved as a spy, were you not?" It was asked with simple curiosity, not mockingly. Next to him, the two Lestrange brothers nodded in agreement, their dark eyes mirroring one another in terms of interest.

In fact, Izar was aware of the other Inner-Circle members snap to attention at Ayers' query. He knew this would come to pass. The Death Eaters wanted answers to what happened that night with the Unspeakables.

"I was working to sabotage it, yes, but it was completed behind the scenes without my prior knowledge." He cut out the fact that Rufus had instructed Conner Oran to keep the real status of the invention under wraps. Izar would rather have the Death Eaters be oblivious to Rufus' successful deceit. "As for the invention itself," he continued. "I can't say much about it, as I am under contract to keep silent. But I'm sure those inside the invention at the time know what it's capable of."

"Stripping magic!" Barty Crouch Jr. exclaimed loudly.

Behind Izar, he could feel the sudden stillness of the Second Tier Death Eaters as they overheard. This had been a discussion among the Death Eaters for quite some time, Izar believed. They were worried about it, confused, frightful. Most of them didn't have the exact details of what happened, as they were not inside the invention at the time, but it didn't stop them from fearing what the Unspeakables and the Ministry were capable of.

"I apologize for my outburst, My Lord," Barty continued more quietly. The younger Death Eater leaned closer to Voldemort, his eyes narrowed with concern and blood-lust. "But what's stopping them from constructing another? Now that Black has been exposed as one of us, he cannot keep an eye on the Department."

Voldemort merely offered Crouch a dismissive wave of the hand. The Dark Lord didn't look too worried; then again, nothing ever seemed to upset the man. "I'm sure Mr. Black has it under control. Don't you, child? What, with your activities the past few hours. You've been very busy."

Eyes turned to Izar once again, some disbelieving while others curios. Izar offered Voldemort a withering stare. "I have deposed of the Unspeakables who had a hand in constructing the invention. I also have eyes I can trust watching the Department. They will not be creating another invention like that for a long while."

"And who are these eyes that you trust so much?" Lucius inquired with a hint of suspicion.

Izar shook his head softly, wondering why he even bothered with this lot. He could feel the strain weighing heavily across his body and realized arriving at the Malfoy Manor tonight wasn't his best decision. He was too weak, too strained to deal with all these questions and quires. When he woke up after creating the Horcrux inside Nagini, his enthusiasm had overruled his logic. All that he looked forward to was being with the Death Eaters again—dancing and insulting. Obviously, interacting with them in his state wasn't very smart.

And to think that he had to put up with Voldemort after this…

There was no way around speaking to Voldemort. Just by the man's smoldering stare, Izar knew that any excuse would fall upon deaf ears.

Next to him, Bellatrix gave a breathless chuckle, leaning in close and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Her long curls brushed against his cheek. "Come now, Lucius. Izar most certainly isn't speaking about his Mudblood bitch, are you, my dear?"

"Potter," one of the Lestrange brothers hissed in disgust.

"Yes, Lily Potter, Izar's beloved and estranged mother. The wife of the notorious Auror, James Potter," Evelyn Mulciber felt inclined to expand with a daring smirk in Izar's direction. "And apparently, the trustworthy eyes we are relying on to alert us if another invention is being made."

Izar picked up a water glass, peering inside the clear liquid in order to calm his soaring and unstable temper. The world spun around him and his vision began to grow blurry around the edges. It didn't help matters that his fingers trembled, causing the water inside the goblet to slosh over the side and stain the table cloth. "I have things under control, Mulciber. I have her under control."

"So you say," the man murmured back. "I just find your blind faith in your mother rather…" the man trailed off, contorting his face into that of an ugly grimace. "Sweet."

The Black heir chuckled sinisterly as he placed down the water goblet and leaned away from Bellatrix's reach. Pushing away his weakening resolve, Izar focused on being calm and rational. "It's amusing that you believe my mother is my source in the Department of Mysteries. Pity you are so far from the truth." Izar raised his eyebrows, challenging Mulciber with his eyes. "You really thought you had me figured out, didn't you?"

"You insolent brat—"

"While your composure when dealing with a sixteen-year-old impresses me, Mulciber, I grow tired of it." The Dark Lord finally interrupted before Mulciber could continue his tirade. The older Death Eater flushed darkly when his comrades began snickering at his misfortune. Despite Voldemort addressing Mulciber, his eyes were watching Izar closely. "Allow the boy some secrets. I believe he is serving our cause to the best of his ability. Perhaps you can look at him as an example, Mulciber. When was the last time you've done something worthwhile?"

It was one of the only times Voldemort sided with Izar in front of his Death Eaters, his Inner-Circle in specific. While it was exhilarating to have the Dark Lord behind him, Izar felt as if he could fight his own battles. Tonight, with his exhaustion and illness, he may need a push from behind, but he could handle it himself. Nevertheless, it was amusing to watch Voldemort cut someone down with humiliation.

"You are free to take your leave," Voldemort addressed Izar from across the table and over the guffaws of the Death Eaters. Despite the way it was worded, Izar knew it was an order. "You and I will be finishing this discussion in private."

And look, the man gave himself an excuse to leave the party as well. Perfect.

Izar pursed his lips together, standing gracefully from his chair and bending at the waist. He knew this wasn't his last interaction with the Inner-Circle during the Yuletide celebration. Voldemort most likely sensed Izar's instability and brought the conversation to an end.

With a quick bow, Izar turned his heel and made his way down the steps. He pointedly chose to avert his attention away from the Hogwarts students. There would be more than enough time to speak to them. And hopefully Daphne could read his body language enough to know not to follow him. The Dark Lord would eventually be following, which would further her reluctance to pursue him.

As soon as he entered the Malfoy Manor, Izar snuck behind many corridors until he was away from prying eyes. With the comfort of the shadows, Izar placed his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He allowed himself a few moments of vulnerability. If he was going to face Voldemort, he would need as many stolen minutes of relaxation as he could. He needed to be sharp, observant for this confrontation.

Despite his nausea and fatigue, Izar found true wellbeing here. This was where he belonged and he welcomed every moment of it.

Charmed green and charcoal eyes snapped open when Izar felt the shift in atmosphere. Voldemort had entered the Manor. Straightening from the wall, Izar threw his shoulders back and slowly sauntered down the corridor. As the strong aura advanced, Izar found himself becoming more eager. He could smell the Dark Lord's proximity and magic. And suddenly, Izar felt the lingering caress of fingers at the small of his back before Voldemort swooped past him.

If the Black heir hadn't had sharp vision, the Dark Lord would only be a darker shade against the already darkened corridor. Izar considered the tall form just briefly before following at the same pace.

The man led him through the halls of the Malfoy Manor, seemingly bringing Izar to his own assigned chambers. And knowing Lucius, the blond man probably reserved a whole wing for the Dark Lord.

Izar hesitated when Voldemort veered off from the middle of the corridor and disappeared inside a room. The door was left open for Izar, an invitation to follow.

A slow and steady smirk settled across Izar's lips as he confidently walked inside the room.

The door slammed shut behind him.