Warnings: Hehe, grammar mistakes, among other things.
Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews!
Chapter Twenty Seven
Amongst the hustle and bustle of the returning Hogwarts students, Draco sat solemnly in the corner, watching the scenery pass by. The Hogwarts Express sped past the icy landscapes, not giving Draco much to look at. He stared anyway, trying to take his mind off the object in his trunk. Izar Black had hand delivered it today, bringing with it news Draco didn't want to hear from the boy's lips or even listen to.
And yet, what Izar had said rang true and clear, haunting Draco even when he was miles away from the Black heir.
Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Parkinson, and a few others were arguing amongst each other and spreading gossip about the student body. A year ago, Draco would have been right along with them, boasting about his father's accomplishments, showing off the different gifts he received, and insulting Granger and the Gryffindors. A year ago seemed like a lifetime ago. And it was also a different Draco Malfoy, one that was still coddled to life's real meaning.
"Alright Draco?"
Draco tore his eyes from the scenery and flashed Daphne Greengrass a grimace. She was nursing a volume of Witch Weekly, refusing to be a part of the Slytherin's rowdy behavior.
Movement outside their compartment caught Draco's attention. Before he could respond to Daphne, he was distracted with the appearance of Granger and Weasley. The Ravenclaw female was arguing with Weasley, her eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline. There were rumors that they were dating, but Draco refused to believe it.
The two just started spending time together in public at the start of this year and Draco believed it was because they joined Dumbledore's Order together. Granger because of her grades and intelligence and Weasley because of his family's prior involvement. They had nothing else in common and Draco could clearly see that from the way they always bickered. Or maybe, the bickering was just used to fuse the sexual tension between the two.
Granger abruptly turned, catching Draco's eyes. What fiery passion she had when dealing with Weasley turned cold and guarded as they met Draco. Her plump lips thinned tightly into a line of revulsion. She stormed away, Weasley offering him a glare before following after her.
Draco scoffed. "Bloody wonderful, Greengrass." His hands tightened into fists in his pockets as he wondered why he even bothered to view Granger in such a godly light. Izar was right. She was a mere crush, a small and insignificant factor to this war.
He remembered the conversation he had with Black this morning and slowly became hardened to everything around him.
"He said he would be here before you left, Draco," Lucius advised, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.
Draco had the sudden urge to shake it off, but realized it would be extremely childish to do so. "I will be late if he continues to make me wait." Draco inhaled sharply, turning to look at his father. "Please be careful in the raids, father. They are all for themselves. No one will aid you if you need assistance. Perhaps I could—"
Lucius smiled warmly, a smile only reserved for his family. "You will assist me by continuing with school. I will be just fine."
All that Draco could do was nod. He was never one for intuition, but today, he felt something dark—sinister—settle in his stomach at the prospect of leaving his father. Earlier, he had said his farewells to his mother and didn't feel as agitated as he did currently. "I'll be top of my class," Draco reassured Lucius.
"Precious," a voice interrupted the duo's conversation.
Father and son turned, startled to see Izar Black standing behind them. They hadn't heard anyone approach, certainly not both Izar and the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord was hovering nearby, yet not close enough to grace them with his presence. He stood near a trunk and a circling serpent, feigning interest in the Malfoy portraits across the corridor's halls.
Draco opened his mouth, ready to insult the boy, but paused when he saw how horrible Black appeared. The usual stiff-backed teen was slouched slightly forward, clutching a wooden box to his chest. The expression was numb, seemingly exhausted. And the eyes were dull and tired. If Izar Black was just a bit tired, he would have hid it extremely well. To have Black appear like this must mean something transpired since yesterday morning. Torture, perhaps? The thought should have pleased him, but it left Draco terrified of what the Dark Lord was capable of.
"May I speak to Draco alone, Lucius?" Izar murmured softly. He barely spared Lucius a glance as the man swept from the proximity. "I understand you're angry with me."
The blond crossed his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow as if to say 'duh'.
Izar blinked, grunting. The boy must have been extremely sick, for he did little to hide his expression of repugnance. "Has it ever crossed your mind that if I hadn't double-crossed you, you would be caught by Dumbledore tampering with the Vanishing Cabinet? If we went together, as originally planned, we would have been captured and forced to stay at the manor. By going on my own terms, I was able to find out that Granger and Weasley have been following your ungrateful hide around Hogwarts."
It was Draco's turn to blink at the words, reluctantly realizing he hadn't thought of it that way.
Black took another step forward, invading his personal space. "Not only did I save your arse that night, but I also gave you the option to redeem yourself in our Lord's eyes."
The box was thrust in Draco's hands. He took it ungracefully, feeling extremely uneasy holding it. Just like the intuition with his father, he could feel something wrong with this item. It was dark, frightening…
"Can I look inside?" Draco found himself asking despite his better judgment.
"Of course you can, but only here. After you step out of this manor, make sure you don't take it out or bring any unwanted attention to it."
Draco licked his bottom lip before flipping the latch upward and slowly opening the lid. He expected a skull, a potion vial full filled with mysterious liquid, a snake egg… anything but a bloody crown that looked even ridiculously lavish in the Malfoy Manor. And yet, the large sapphire twinkled up at him wickedly, teasing him and setting him on edge. It was an odd sensation. He wanted to stare at it all day, yet he also wanted to stash it in the deepest bowels of hell.
"What is it?" Draco asked.
"That is none of your business," Izar scolded. "It belongs to the Dark Lord; please treat it with extreme caution."
Draco finally slammed the lid shut, eyeing the Dark Lord over Black's shoulder. The man was too far away to overhear their conversation. Right? "What would you like me to do with it? What would our Lord like me to do with it?"
"Ah," Black gave a breathless laugh, trying to straighten his shoulders but failing miserably. The boy fell back forward, his stance weary. "Before I tell you your task, I must be sure that you are committed to this war, to the Dark."
Draco refrained from blanching at the familiar topic. The last time they had this conversation, it had been in Black's rooms when Draco had asked for assistance with the Vanishing Cabinet. He was tired of Black always thinking he knew everything, everyone. Though, those unique-colored eyes were piercing Draco, making it difficult for him to breathe.
Throughout the past few days, Draco had begun to slowly see Black as someone other than that awkward, antisocial teen. In his spot was a genius, a threat, a powerful force. Izar Black was a young man now and Draco had struggled to come to terms with it. After all, how could someone, a year younger then himself, be more mature? As he stood in front of Black, it made Draco finally come to terms with it. It was time Draco followed suit.
"You know I'm committed," Draco replied, swallowing his instinct to offer a scathing retort.
Black raised an eyebrow, just as surprised as Draco with his cool tone. "Your crush." Izar cocked his head to the side, continuing to stare through Draco. "You and Granger always struggled with one another to be the top of your class. Your insults to her at school were rather unjust, despite your hate for Mudbloods. You're infatuated with her because you see a strong witch that can challenge you."
"You're wrong," Draco hissed wetly. He glanced around the manor for his father but saw Lucius nowhere. "Don't assume as if you know."
Izar gave a crooked smirk, his posture, if possible, seemed to slouch forward to a greater extent. "Oh, but I do know, Draco. It's always the challenge, the lust of the challenge, the chase. I've had my fair share of it, actually." There was hidden amusement in the boy's eyes. "I don't fault you, nor do I find it weak of you. However, I do need to caution you that this type of chase is dangerous. Not only are you sacrificing your loyalties for this Mudblood, but you may be making sacrifices that affect this war."
Draco stared, only because someone had never stood before him and spoke his flaws to his face. No one had seen through him as well as Izar Black. His obsession with Granger wasn't healthy, he knew, but it wasn't something so easily controlled.
"I don't even like her," Draco repeated his denial.
"And yet, I can see that you're hesitant to create any trouble for her, any danger." The younger reached forward and placed a hand on top of the box in Draco's hand. Those eyes were piercing as they stared at him. "You can renounce your complete loyalty to the Dark and chase after Granger, or you can direct your lust for a challenge elsewhere and play a role in turning this society in the rightful direction. Many of us have to sacrifice something in order to participate in this war. Can you imagine, sacrificing your family for war? Some of us need to make that decision, doubtless of our desires to hold them and our allegiance close. When you compare a Mudblood girl to your family, what can you possibly see as comparison?"
Izar leaned forward abruptly, his face harsh and passionate. "She is but a Mudblood girl, a small, meager crush in this point of time in your life."
Draco sneered. "She is nothing! I keep telling you I have no feelings for her."
Izar stayed silent for a long moment, his eyes distant and not even present. Draco lowered his lids, watching as the boy struggled to regain his thought process. "Are you well?" Draco queried. Suddenly, the Dark Lord turned in their direction and Draco swallowed thickly, averting his attention back on Izar.
The Black heir frowned. "I need you to think on what I've told you," Izar began on a new tangent. "If you decide to continue with your support of the Dark Lord, I want you to hide this in the Room of Requirement. If you decided you want to peruse a mere crush and throw away everything, then, by all means, deliver this to Dumbledore."
Draco turned cold at the dark humor in Izar's eyes. The boy was intoxicating, Draco would admit to that. There was something ethereal with Izar. The Black heir was handsome, beautiful…and almost pretty. And he looked so damned innocent and guiltless. Many would be surprised to find such a complex and dark creature lurking beneath those inimitable eyes. Draco hated to admit it, but he wanted to spend days on end studying Izar and memorizing his habits and moods—he wanted to figure the boy out and mimic. And yet, he knew it would take more than a few days to accomplish such a feat.
Suddenly, Draco's chin was taken by cool fingers. Izar gazed down at him through thick eyelashes.
"Don't think you can hang on to both, because, in the end, you must always choose a side. One cannot have his cake and eat it too."
Draco wanted to tell the boy off once again, that Granger was nothing. She was a Mudblood who got better grades than him. But he found himself unable to lie. He had noticed these thoughts plaguing him since the start of the term. He had fretted the Dark Lord gaining control of the school and targeting her. He didn't understand his sudden fascination, but it had affected his ability to fix the Vanishing Cabinet without detection. It had made him ask Izar if the Dark Lord could spare the students.
It made him pathetically weak and he hated it.
Draco breathed heavily, staring up at Izar. His hands subconsciously tightened around the box in his hold. "I will bring this to the Room of Requirements for our Lord. Make no mistake."
Draco leaned further against his seat, staring at his trunk. Determination licked at his chest, surprising him at the intensity. He wanted to make his father proud; he wanted to be a threat in this war. And he'd kill the Mudblood Granger if he had to prove that.
He would.
{Death of Today}
Izar stood on top of the short cliff which sat in the middle of the sea. Behind him stood three Inner-Circle members, their stances stiff and uncomfortable next to the raging sea. Izar smiled beneath his gold mask, enjoying the feel of mist and water soaking sections of his dark robes. Outside, the sky was dark, not even the stars or moon wanted to brave the eternal void of darkness. The clouds were swollen, gracing the occupants out tonight with sharp snowflakes that turned into icy raindrops before they hit the ground.
The small mound of rock he stood upon was beginning to grow a layer of thick ice. Izar could have melted it magically, but he enjoyed the three behind him slipping flat on their faces if they moved suddenly.
Across from where he was positioned, a cave sat. Above the cave in question, upon the cliffs, stood other cloaked figures, their positions held on Izar's word.
It tasted odd, this position of power and control. After being in bed arrest for the days prior to New Year's Eve, Voldemort informed Izar that he would not be accompanying the selected Death Eaters on the raid. Izar and Lucius were the chosen co-leaders, their task simple, yet crucial. They would need to deposit the 'Horcrux' in the cave, all the while, luring Dumbledore's Order by the nose.
Severus Snape had been the one to whisper it in Dumbledore's ear about tonight. Izar had a feeling tonight would be Snape's last raid, as the man's 'usefulness' had been accomplished. And while Izar had planned on coming up with a way to spare the Potion Master's life, he had been unconscious for the better part of three days after constructing the two Horcruxes. Those days had been pure hell for Izar. He had remembered being persistent and needing to talk to Draco the day after creating the Horcruxes. His bout of stubbornness made his bed rest extend an extra two days and the chance of fainting in Voldemort's arms immediately after the conversation with Malfoy.
It was humiliating. The way Voldemort had hovered. The way the man had always made sure Izar ingested blood every three hours. The way Izar had been too weak to even open his eyes.
What was even more challenging was Voldemort's insistence of reaming quiet about his past. When Izar had regained most of his strength to assess the items Voldemort had chosen for the Horcruxes, the Black heir had asked after each item, wanting to know the history and how it tied in with Voldemort's past. The Dark Lord became cold and dismissive—leaving the bedroom for a full day before returning with his tail tucked between his legs.
The man then explained that the majority of the items, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, and the Slytherin locket were just heirlooms, mere trophies Voldemort had been interested in obtaining. The diary was just a silly idea Voldemort had, as he had come up empty-handed on the seventh artifact. The ring though, the ring was what Voldemort refused to speak about. He had offered Izar an inane promise, stating that he would tell him in a matter of time.
Izar didn't know whether to believe the man or not. The ring was intriguing, only because the man seemed so possessive over it. Out of all the artifacts, the ring was the only one that had been duplicated. Voldemort refused to have it destroyed. And the Dark Lord also requested the ring to be the last Horcrux hunted.
As Izar listened, he had noticed the slight glimmer of emotion behind those crimson eyes. The man knew something and he was withholding it from Izar. With only the promise that the ring would be the Horcrux that would kill Dumbledore and lure the man by himself, Voldemort had dropped the topic.
It didn't matter. Izar was patient. And he had an eternity to find out about Voldemort's past.
"Do you reckon we could go inside now?" Augustus Rookwood asked, his voice slightly trembling from the cold.
Izar sighed softly. "Only a couple minutes longer. I'm afraid I'm enjoying the weather far too much to cut it short." Silence met his statement. Really, was he the only one with a sense of humor? He supposed those many days in bed had rendered him as humorless as Pansy Parkinson.
Taking out the beautiful pocket watch Voldemort gifted to him last Yuletide, Izar considered the ticking hand. The sound of time passing seemed to comfort him. Odd that he would be alive for each and every second until the earth destroyed itself.
"You're doing this out of spite, aren't you, little Black?" Rookwood pestered, his voice an amused interest. "Those standing across from us, upon the cliffs, must be cursing your name as we speak. And you're taking a sick enjoyment out of it."
Izar's lips thinned into a harsh smile. "If only I could hear them now. It would make everything so much more worthwhile." He snapped the cover to the pocket watch closed, sliding it back into his pocket.
"Don't think we aren't cursing your name, Black. Have you even begun to remove the protective charms surrounding the cave so we can Apparate inside?" Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband, grounded out in question.
Izar turned to look at the trio over his shoulder, the two Lestrange brothers and Augustus Rookwood. A decent group, but not Izar's preferred. The rest of the Inner-Circle and a few Second Tier Death Eaters were across from them, standing patiently… or… not so patiently. One person, in particular, was standing with a silver mask, not at all affected by Izar's insistence of making them wait. It was that man Izar wanted to annoy, and he knew this was all but a childish game to flourish in that task.
Lord Voldemort said he wasn't accompanying them on this raid, to keep up appearances for their enemies. After all, Lord Voldemort does not busy himself with a task that his Death Eaters can accomplish. Tom Riddle, however, would attend the raid. The man hadn't informed Izar of his plan but the Black heir had noticed the familiar aura in the group before they had Apparated here. Voldemort was once again disguised as a younger adult, his statue shorter and smaller than Izar's own. Izar has yet to see what form the man fancies to take during his disguise, but he assumed it was a young Tom Riddle.
And Izar was damned curious to see the Dark Lord's young face.
"The protective charms?" Izar asked, raising his eyebrows from beneath his mask. "Oh, dear me, I must have forgotten to mention that I took them down quite a while ago."
Spluttering issued from behind him, making the younger wizard grin broadly. Rabastan elbowed past him before Disapparating with a sharp crack with his brother right on his heels. Before Rookwood Disapparated, the man clapped Izar playfully on the back of the head. Smirking, Izar lifted his arm and waved his lit wand across from him at the others. People were far too easy to get riled up…
Izar watched as they slowly disappeared from the cliffs above the cave before he Dissapparated himself. He grunted when he landed heavily on a rocky surface, putting all his effort to standing upright in the eyes of the watchful Death Eaters. He could just feel their dissatisfaction coming off them in waves. He took that as success for getting their panties in a bundle.
The Black heir straightened up, eyeing the Death Eaters. They were lined up in front of a murky lake, their eyes taking him in darkly. "I can see you are all thrilled to be here," Izar commented.
One of the few women, a short and stout figure, stepped forward. "If you hadn't made us wait in the freezing rain, perhaps then we would be greeting your arrival on our knees, boy." Her voice dripped of sarcasm and Izar found her oddly endearing.
Izar tsked. "You're a witch, are you not? You could have put up an easy warming charm."
"Our task," Lucius interrupted, stepping next to Izar. "Is exceedingly important. The Dark Lord entrusted us with an artifact that is to be protected at all costs. There are whispers that the Light has been informed of our location and the item we are protecting. Our first goal is to deposit the artifact here, beneath this." Lucius held up a vial of glowing green liquid. "Afterward, we will place multiple protection charms and wards around the cave. However, if the Light does show their face, we must take the artifact back with us. They must not lay hands on it."
The Death Eaters were all oblivious to the true intentions of Izar and Voldemort. Both planned on the Light getting their hands on the locket, but they wanted the Death Eaters to remain clueless to that fact. It was important that the smarter Death Eaters, like Lucius and the Lestrange's believed Voldemort had Horcruxes. No one knew that Voldemort was immortal through creature blood besides Izar. And it would stay that way.
"And the artifact? What is it?"
Izar grasped the locket from inside his pocket and held it up for the Death Eaters to see.
"A pocket watch?" one of them murmured in confusion.
"Wrong item, Mr. Black," Lucius mumbled with heavy amusement. Bellatrix gave a screeching laugh, the echo dancing across the cave and only heightening in volume.
Izar turned, realizing he was holding his pocket watch instead of the locket. He grimaced beneath his mask, knowing his stomach knotted out of embarrassment more than nerves for the upcoming battle. "I was only showing off the gift I received, Lucius," Izar murmured, trying to make the situation lean in his favor. Nonetheless, Izar tucked his pocket watch back into his robes. He dared not look in the Dark Lord's direction.
"Ah," Lucius exclaimed lightly. "And it is truly an appropriate gift for you, Mr. Black."
Sparing the man a glower, Izar grabbed hold of the locket and held it by the chain. The heavy gold item swung back and forth, seemingly swelling with darkness and despondency. There was no smart comments from the observing Death Eaters, only because they could feel something unnatural coming from the Horcrux. This was no ordinary locket to them.
Next to Izar, Lucius' eyes glazed over as he stared at the piece of jewelry. There were more than a handful of Death Eaters who had suspicions of what the artifact was supposed to be. Their eyes were full of desire and a fierce protectiveness. Voldemort and Izar had discussed the possibility of Death Eaters dying in order to protect a faux Horcrux. It was the Dark Lord that expressed he did not care, as long as he had the Order.
"You three," Izar pointed toward three minor Death Eaters, "will take this across the lake on the small land mass there. Upon the island, you will see a bowl. Discard the locket first and then pour the potion over it. Can you handle this task?"
The three Death Eaters nodded quickly, not wanting to be seen as weak in front of the others. As soon as Izar placed it in one of the Death Eater's hands, he could feel the approaching auras.
The Order had arrived.
Izar stalked to the edge of the rocky shore, watching hungrily as his invention was delivered to the island across from him. He was eager, so eager to see it work. This would be the first Horcrux that would be destroyed by the Light and Izar was far too excited for his own good.
The dropped privacy charms allowed the three Death Eaters to Apparate to the island instead of taking the available boat sitting calmly upon the water or swimming. As Izar observed the trio, he could feel the body hovering behind him. He knew it was Voldemort and he knew the Dark Lord was just as eager to see this through.
The sound of gold dropping into the rock-like bowl echoed across the cave and seemed to stop time. Just before the second Death Eater was able to pour the Drink of Despair over the locket, multiple sounds of Apparation sounded throughout the cave. The three Death Eaters standing next to the locket were magically pushed backward and into the water. Before the Order members on the island could take the locket, Izar quickly stunned the three, being the only one who had reflexes quick enough.
He jumped on a higher elevation and chanted a protective charm around the island. No one would be able to Apparate there quickly. They would either have to swim or take the time on this end to drop it down.
Izar chuckled lowly, turning to assess the battle beneath him. They were equally matched. One dueling couple, in particular, caught Izar's attention. Lily Potter and Bellatrix were engaged in a fierce battle. Lily had an expression of aggressive determination, accompanied by a certain coldness Izar was used to seeing. Bellatrix, on the other hand, had a wide grin on her face as she taunted his mother.
Tom Riddle was currently engaged in a slow duel with a redheaded man. Izar wondered if the Dark Lord was pained from having to parade himself as someone of average level. How long could the man keep up his act?
Jumping from the overhang, Izar landed behind a man with greying brown hair. The strong and angular features were familiar to Izar and he knew this to be Edgar Bones, Amelia's brother. The Bones family were very respected members of society, and apparently worthy opponents.
"Aren't you curious to know what happened to your sister?" Izar drawled behind the man.
Edgar turned on his heel, staring at Izar in slight astonishment before he narrowed his eyes in anger. Beside them, James Potter was close by, glancing at the pair ever-so often. Apparently, his opponent was not challenging him enough. If the man wanted entertainment, then Izar was more than happy to provide the man with some.
"She went missing during Yuletide, did she not?" Izar continued, caressing his wand. He preferred his prey riled up and full of bloodlust. "She might have been missing for her family gathering, but she was right on time for our celebration that night."
A vein protruded from Edgar's forehead and the man gave a battle cry. The hex coming from his wand was like a gunshot, most likely just as painful. Izar batted it away, making a pushing motion with both his hands. The man flew back against the rocky wall, falling lifelessly to the ground. Izar blinked, disappointment that such a proclaimed wizard had died so quickly.
Much to his pleasure, Potter stunned his opponent hastily and gave a side-long lunge in Izar's direction. The two faced one another, one clueless to the other's identity. Izar smiled at the man from behind his mask, eager. Potter struck, his face mimicking his wife's.
Izar remained on the defensive in order to find out what James' fighting style was. The man's dueling technique was a lot like Rufus Scrimgeour's; very Gryffindor-like with advancing steps forward and bold moves. It was completely offensive and Izar was looking forward to playing on that. When was the last time James Potter fought with an enemy who was dominant on the offense?
Dipping low, Izar dodged the curse that brushed his hair. He rolled sharply, catching Potter's legs in a tight bind and pulling the man upside down. Potter struggled, both irritated at the juvenile move and furious to be taken advantage of. Disarming the man, Izar threw his arm up, racing the prideful pure-blood to the ceiling before throwing his arm back down.
It was tempting to bring the man all the way down at full force. The power behind Izar's influence would certainly crack the man's skull open and kill him instantly. But Izar found himself stopping the man's descent a hair's length from the ground. Potter's face was beat-red and his glasses were askew. Before Izar could taunt the man, Potter threw up his hand and wandlessly escaped from the invisible constraints.
Impressed, Izar paused in casting another curse, watching as Potter flipped gracefully into a standing position. "What will you do now?" Izar inquired, waving Potter's wand. "I have your wand."
Lifting his lip, Potter reached for his wand. If Izar hadn't been ready, the man's wand would have ripped from his grasp. Instead, Izar gripped the wand tighter and used his magic-sensitivity to tug on the glittery rope he could see from Potter's wandless magic. The man stumbled forward; flabbergasted as his grip on his wandless summoning disappeared abruptly.
Messy black hair veiled the man's expression as he glanced up. "Izar?" The Black heir cocked his head to the side in answer. Potter's face quivered before turning redder. "Either kill me or stop toying with me. Give me a fair fight, damnit!"
"I don't want to kill you," Izar whispered silkily. "You're far too much fun. Besides, what would my mother think of me?"
Potter placed his hands on his legs, breathing heavily. "I suppose this is answer enough for my proposal the other day."
Izar wondered on that. It would be easier to kill the man now and save the Dark from any future meddling the pure-blood would likely attempt. But Izar found himself unwilling to kill this prideful creature just yet. "The Dark Lord sends his regards, but would have to decline at this time." Izar threw the man's wand back to him, preparing himself for a real duel.
As soon as James caught his wand, he sliced it across his chest, sending Izar a nasty stinging hex. The Black heir caught it on the tip of his wand, using his invented spell to send it back to Potter without any extra wand movements. Before James could properly block it, Izar was already throwing his next curse. The two spells collided with one another, crashing into Potter's shield, but not breaking it apart.
Izar's assumptions were correct. Potter was an offensive fighter; he looked undeniably sloppy on the defense. Izar lunged forward, taking little pity on the man as he forcibly peeled away the man's shield and broke the man's glasses in half with another wave of his wand. The spectacles fell from Potter's nose, shattering on the ground at their feet.
"Contacts, love," Izar encouraged, raising his wand in preparation for a more ruthless attack. However, before he could conjure a creative idea, Izar watched as Lucius Malfoy took a brutal slicing hex across his face and down to his groin from Alastor Moody.
Izar pursed his lips as Lucius fell in the water, unquestionably to his death. The Black heir's fingers gripped his wand tighter as he debated. Potter was at his mercy right now and Izar was having fun. But… the blond was… someone Izar valued unquestionably. It was these damn morals that he inherited from a sane Lily Potter.
Potter, who had just cast a corrective optical charm, opened his eyes to see Izar's wand inches from his face. The man's skin grew white and Izar smirked. "Stupefy," the Black heir whispered. Potter went stiff. Before his body hit the ground, Izar was already across the rocky terrain and stalking the length of the shore. He hid himself behind a high pillar of stone and summoned Lucius' body to him.
Worry gnawed at him when he witnessed the pallor of Lucius' face. The man's ice-like hair blended perfectly against his skin and the water was stained red from the amount of blood pouring from the pure-blood. Izar crouched, taking the seemingly unconscious figure beneath his arms and hauling him on above ground. The man spluttered, water and blood flying from his damaged blue lips.
Laying the man flat on the ground, Izar assessed the damage, realizing that this was far too advanced for him. A simple cut was about the extent of Izar's knowledge in Healing. Healing had never been his area of interest. This was… this was past his control.
The severing hex had split the man's body in half, starting at his face. The skin on his lips and neck were divided, already swollen and bleeding. Around the torso, the intestines were visible if Izar looked hard enough. It was ugly and the air stunk of exposed internal organs. Lucius' eyelids fluttered as they looked up at Izar, a sharp wheezing escaping past his impaired lips as he struggled to intake needed oxygen.
"Izar," the man whispered brokenly, painfully.
Not knowing how the man was aware of his identify behind the mask, Izar leaned closer, his eyes desperate. "I don't know what to do." Was it his imagination or did his voice break? His hands floated and trembled over the long wound, pressing on it to compress it but also causing blood to spurt from above his hands and below. He shuddered, never seeing gore like this on someone he…
Lucius' eyes were focused intentionally on Izar, the sharp wit and intelligence seemingly dried out. The man's heartbeat was slow, skipping a few rhythms in between. Death was upon the blond and Izar found himself afraid of that notion. Death… silly how he could think so little of it on people he despised, but currently finding it too frightening to face.
He stroked the man's wet locks, not knowing what to do. When Death Eaters fell, they fell for the honor of fighting for their Lord. There were no Healers, there were no fellow comrades to pick them up and assist them. It was a cruel and hard army, everyone for themselves or for the Dark Lord.
Keeping his eyes locked on the trembling man, Izar ran his wand down the length of the wound, chanting a Latin incantation. It would stop the bleeding for a few moments and seal the wound for a fraction of a minute before the meek spell would wear down.
"Izar," the man whispered once again.
Lucius' lips scarcely moved and the volume barely escaped past his throat, but Izar could hear it with clarity. Behind him, there were other splashes in the lake as the battle resumed around them. But he was just as frozen as Lucius was, the latter unable to even lift his arms or twitch his fingers. Oddly enough, the silver eyes dropped from Izar and stared downward. The Black heir followed the motion, blinking when he noticed a slight bulge in the man's robes. With the bump was the steady ringing of magic.
Izar pulled away from Lucius and dug in the man's wet pockets. He pulled out a leather case, feeling the aura around it and recognizing the item before opening it. A Portkey. The signature and properties of the Portkey were similar to the one Izar received before transporting to the Malfoy Manor during Yuletide. Inside, a Malfoy signet ring sat, sparkling up at Izar cruelly.
The Black heir leaned forward, taking Lucius hand and touching it to the ring. Both the Porktey and the blond were gone in a matter of seconds, leaving Izar crouching in a dark corner by himself.
Many things could go wrong with what he had just done. The landing from the Portkey could ruin Lucius' wounds a tenfold, killing the man on impact. Either that or he would die alone, Narcissa and the elves unaware of his presence. But it was an emergency Portkey, Izar knew. The Malfoy's would have taken precautions for something like this.
Izar leaned against the rocky pillar, finding himself tense and unwillingly frozen. He hated that Lucius and death could affect him like it had. And somehow, he finally understood Voldemort's insistence to remain immortal—his fear of death.
Glancing across at the island, he examined the protection charms as they bowed outward, ready to fall. Anger, so heavy and suffocating, sparked brightly behind Izar's eyes. His fists curled at their sides in order to stop their shaking. It was meant to happen, it was supposed to happen. The Light was meant to destroy the locket, but the wizard who was currently peeling apart Izar's protection wards triggered an intense anger in him.
Dumbledore.
Add the old fool on top of Lucius' near death, Izar found himself more determined than ever to fight with the man. It was foolish. Dumbledore was a Light Lord and Izar was only above average. Wasn't he? He had never dueled a Lord before and quite frankly the idea made him salivate. Voldemort was not here to fight against Dumbledore and Tom Riddle wouldn't uncover his position unless absolutely necessary.
It was Izar's turn.
Standing tall from his crouched position, he threw his arm out, reinforcing the charms around the fake Horcrux. Slowly, he stepped out from the alcove and sought the old fool. The old wizard was standing at the very edge of the rocky shore, his shoes and robes stained with the murky water. Bright blue eyes turned away from the island and on an approaching Izar.
Izar pulled his mask off his face, becoming too suffocated with the heavy metal on his skin. He pointed his wand at Dumbledore, slowing to a saunter.
"Izar Black," Dumbledore greeted, albeit a bit sadly.
"Don't begin to patronize me, old man," Izar hissed.
Within his long beard, Dumbledore's lips thinned grimly. He raised his wand, twitching it ever so slightly. Rocks rose from their position before beginning to twirl lazily in front of Izar. The younger watched the spectacle with an air of monotony. Mentally, though, he was taking note on how the man's aura seemed to brighten and grow, becoming almost overwhelming. Izar prepared himself, knowing this would be no duel against James Potter or even Bellatrix Lestrange. This was against a man who Voldemort couldn't defeat.
The rocks suddenly sharpened magically, nonverbally. It hit Izar that Lords didn't rely on incantations— they relied on shows of extreme power and will. Izar swallowed, knowing he wasn't experienced in this kind of duel but he would do his damnest.
The pieces of ground stopped their twirling and angled toward Izar. With quickness even Izar had trouble tracking, the rocks flew toward him. He took an ungraceful step backward, raising the ground in front of him and blocking the knife-like rocks. Some of them made indentations through the large piece of ground Izar pulled upward. The Black heir slumped against the raised platform, gathering himself.
His eyes turned toward the raised cliff to the side of the cave and noticed the figure crouched there. Riddle was leaning forward on the balls of his feet, watching Izar closely. The Dark Lord had an air of unease about him as he surveyed the situation, debating if he should step in or not.
What pity… to have a mate that couldn't defend themselves, Izar thought. What was it like for Voldemort to see Izar cower behind a shield in the face of an enemy? If the roles were reversed, Izar would be disgusted.
He bowed his head, gathering his magic before jumping on the raised earth and facing Dumbledore. The man had been ready and cast a bullet of magic in his direction. Izar batted it away, his wand burning hotly in his hand at the action. Dumbledore considered Izar for a moment, the old fool regrettably on offense until Izar grew more confident.
Dumbledore thought Izar was a vampire. The man would cast typical curses one would use against a vampire and Izar would have to be prepared to stop them.
The Headmaster brought back his wand, creating a large phoenix out of Fiendfyre. The phoenix spread its wings, singing shrilly and causing Izar's ears to split. He balanced on the balls of his feet, throwing his wand out toward the lake and twirling his wrist. It seemed almost forever until the water bubbled, looking as if a mere toddler had control over it.
Izar hissed angrily, observing the Fiendfyre out of the corner of his eye as it sprang toward him. With his will and magic, he raised the water from the lake and swirled it in their direction. The closer the wave of water came, the more it began to split into two snake-like figures.
Laughing at the overwhelming sensation of the magic thickening in the air, Izar threw his arms back, willing the serpents to attack both Dumbledore and his damned fire-phoenix. The water serpents easily slithered in the air, their mouths open to expose their fangs. Crisscrossing one another, they attacked the phoenix and easily over powered the creature. The flames doused under Izar's influence before the serpents turned their attention on the old wizard. In defense, Dumbledore crossed his forearms over his head and tore apart the serpents and their form.
Water fell heavily on Izar and the other wizards in the proximity. He swiped at his hair before jumping down off the platform and inching closer to Dumbledore. Tugging his wand upward, he crystalized the water on the ground and flung them at Dumbledore. The Headmaster batted his wand, effectively crushing them before they came in contact with his skin.
Izar observed the old man, deciding it was time to take this duel into his hands and manipulate it to a step he was comfortable with. Every spell he could think of, he cast it in quick session. Dumbledore easily deflected them away, sometimes turning them back on Izar. Both of them never paused to consider their next step. Soon, more than three spells were being cast at a time and blocked harshly away.
Izar found his unease slowly dissipating and his excitement growing. No one had ever challenged him like this before. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the protective shields around the Horcrux dropping. It didn't bother Izar. As long as the members of the Order were the ones to obtain the Horcrux, it didn't matter.
Twisting and pivoting on his feet, Izar kept his arms above his shoulders, blocking and catching the curses coming in his direction. All the while, he continued to move closer to Dumbledore. Close-rage fighting was usually a discomfort for most wizards and Izar speculated that Dumbledore was no exception.
"Tired?" Izar asked in genuine curiosity as he heard the heavy breathing and witnessed the flushed face.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, suddenly lowering his wand and catching Izar's leg. The Black heir hadn't expected such a low move from the wizard and found himself soaring backward. He landed heavily on the rocky ground, barely turning in time to avoid a curse that exploded the rocks next to him. Izar advanced quicker toward Dumbledore, detecting the man was uncomfortable with close proximity and using it to his advantage. Did the man think he would attack him physically? That was a potential thought…
Allowing his quick mind to take over, Izar cast a rebounding shield behind Dumbledore. The man had barely paid attention to the spell that missed his shoulder, oblivious to Izar's intention. The Black heir then cast a slicing hex over Dumbledore's head and watched as the curse rebounded off the shield and hit Dumbledore in the back. The old man gasped hoarsely, his face twisting into one of pain and surprise.
Izar raised his hand, knowing he could have killed the man during his moment of weakness. But he stopped, knowing that Dumbledore was Voldemort's enemy.
Suddenly, the cave gave a shrill groan as magic, dripping with darkness, washed through the cavern. Izar grinned silly, hearing the scream of the poor, poorindividual caught by the Horcruxe's thrall—Izar's invention.
Looking up, he found his grin freezing in place as he identified the wizard holding a sword over the fallen locket. Izar's wand dropped from his slack fingers, creating a hollow echoing across the cave. A scream of denial, swollen with a sense of anguish, followed the wands' descend and Izar realized it was him making the pathetic sound.
Dumbledore frowned, turning sharply at what caught Izar's and the others' attention. The wizards gathered stood in shell-shock, watching a rigid Sirius Black fall to the ground before his corpse was consumed with pitiless flames. Only seconds passed before the flames disappeared, leaving behind a black corpse full of grinning white teeth.
Izar stood there, his body trembling. Around him, there were sounds of Disapparation as the Order slowly began to depart—full of confusion and despair.
"Izar…" Bellatrix cooed softly, her voice lacking the typical hint of insanity. She reached for his arm, but he pulled it away sharply. "He was on the wrong side!" she screamed shrilly. "You must realize it was out of your power!"
How wrong she was. Izar turned to her. Something in his expression must have frightened her, for she took a step back. "Bring them back to the base. Make certain Lucius is accounted for at his Manor. Do you understand me?"
"Where will you be?" she demanded, the Death Eaters slowly herding together behind her. Her hands once again tried to curl around his wrists, but he invaded her. "Our Lord expects you back."
Izar ignored her, calling his fallen wand to him and Apparating to the island in the middle of the lake. He stood above the burnt body at his feet. Before anyone tried to stop him, Izar curled his hand around Sirius' wrist and Disapparated them away from the cave, away from prying ears and eyes.
They arrived in the field near the Black Manor in Scotland. The snow was knee deep and the freezing rain and wind were unrelenting. Izar cradled the burnt corpse to his chest, smiling thinly before laying Sirius down gently. He stared down at the body, not seeing any recognizable features of the man he came to…
Izar blinked heavily, recalling his words to Regulus those many months ago.
Izar stood up with ease, walking silently over to the stone hearth and leaning his forehead against the distressed oak mantle. "He's your brother," Izar drawled lazily, darkly. "Do you not feel any torment that you may have to fight against him?"
A light snort answered him. "Your character surprises me, Izar. For the most part, you are impassive and completely dismissive of those vulnerable and beneath you. And yet, you seem to grow and nurture attachments. These bonds… these relationships, they are your weakness. You seem almost warm and shielding, compassionate, to those who you deem under your protection. It is both a wonderful and dangerous trait to have, Izar."
Izar narrowed his eyes in the flames, feeling it lick painfully against his skin. Behind him, he could hear Regulus stand and approach him. An arm curled across his waist and his father's breath tickled his turned cheek. "You must be willing to understand that you may have to kill Sirius in order to gain the bigger goal. Perhaps not you personally, but his death may be just that one life standing in our way. You have to look at who you're supporting, what you're fighting for. Would you rather choose Sirius' life over the opportunity for the Dark side to prevail?"
Rough stubble from Regulus' short goatee rubbed across Izar's cheek in an innocent reassurance.
"I would find a way to do both," Izar boasted softly.
His father chuckled. "Just the answer I was expecting."
He would find a way to do both…
How laughable was that?
Izar laughed deliriously into the howling wind, his screams of empty delight slowly turning into sharp cries of loss.
{Notes} Forgot to delete my notes/spoilers at the end of the document from when I was writing this chapter :/ For those of you who saw them before I deleted them, *please* keep quiet to what you saw/read *Nervous laugh*. Wow.
