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The next morning, Mortimer stirred in his bed, feeling this uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Giving up on trying to fall back asleep for the weekend, he opened his groggy eyes only to realize that, indeed, he was being watched.
Draco was standing near his bedside, Tobey's head sticks out doing the same thing. They were observing him from above, not noticing he was awake yet.
"Draco?' Mortimer questions. "What are you doing?"
"Come." He says instead. "They're serving breakfast."
At first, he was confused but then he suddenly remembers why they wanted to go the great hall. They wanted to get a glimpse at the four champions.
That's right.
Four champions.
From Durmstrang, Viktor Krum - Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour. Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory.
Harry Potter.
Mortimer remembers it clearly now.
Dumbledore had just announced Hogwarts' champion when the Goblet of Fire shot flames into the air. To everyone's surprise, a piece of parchment emerged, and Dumbledore read the name aloud.
The entire room became still, waiting for him to speak.
Harry Potter, proud Gryffindor, youngest Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team – Hero of the Wizarding World, vanquisher of the Dark Lord – Was now named the Fourth Champion.
Some of the students thought it might've been a prank of some kind. Truthfully, no one could really imagine anyone pulling it off - not even twins could do it, and they were supposed to be the experts here! Still, they waited in anticipation, what would happen if they stayed there long enough, they didn't breathe so much as air.
Loud gasps were heard around the hall and some of the professors, including Dumbledore paused. The twinkle in his eyes was no longer present, but more so frowned when he said Potter's name out loud.
Gasps and then a harrowing silence. The room was so quiet that the progressing sound of hands clapping carried over across the room, and many turned their heads and frowned at Black's grinning face.
Mortimer could've very well laugh in that moment but didn't, he too couldn't believe it.
Slipping right into a cozy grey sweater, he follows Draco up to the great hall. The hatred for Potter was written over their faces, especially from the hufflepuff table - Mortimer couldn't have asked for a better early Christmas gift.
Grabbing a cup, he pours himself tea and a few biscuits. "Look at him - The smug git dares to show his face after pulling a stunt like that." Draco says beside him.
Biting of the top of the wafer, "He didn't put his name on the goblet." Mortimer corrects. Taking a quick glance he could see the defeat in Potter's eyes, his head was hanging low and appeared to be all alone.
"How do you know?"
"Look at him." Flicking his head. "He's broken and alone - To be honest, I don't think he's smart enough to get pass the barriers Dumbledore placed."
There was silence as Draco thought about what he was saying. Everyone else was focusing on the gryffindor, glaring at him whenever he walked inside the great hall. However, Mortimer was right, the look of rejection was quickly spread across his face.
"Serves him right." Draco said quietly, as though he didn't want Mortimer to hear him.
It's odd of you to defend him, Black." Daphne spoke up. Sitting beside her was Davis, her shy eyes lowered to her plate.
He muttered as he chewed. He was still iffy about the day before when she had confronted him in front of Astoria. "Potter couldn't have done it," he said. "What does that say about Dumbledore and the Ministry if he had?"
"That their dimwitted." Draco answers.
Theo also adds. "Incompetent."
Nodding his head, Mortimer agrees with their responses. "Exactly. And the mere rumor of a kid," He hisses. "was able to bypass the age line placed by the highest authority of wizards and Dumbledore - I'd worry more about who's running my country than some silly tournament.
"So who do you think put his name in the goblet?" Daphne questions. At the same time, a group of Durmstrang students walked in, sitting at their table.
Moving their eyes at his direction, they wait for his answer. "Can't say for sure..." Looking down at his half-empty cup. "An adult, perhaps."
Daphne shortly sits back and frowns. "An adult? Why would an adult put in Potter's name?"
Taking a small sip, he muses over. "To kill him of course. Think about it, an adult could easily get pass the age line. An older student? Doubt it, I can't imagine anyone wanting to rid Potter. Except Draco -"
"Hey!"
"Maybe someone in the ministry wants Potter dead, someone affiliated dark intentions." He bites his lip and rotates swirls his drink. "The deadliest tournament. . . It's been banned for a reason - The perfect way to get someone killed. Krum entering his name was practically suicide, along with the others."
"If that's true..." Tracey hesitates shortly. "Then who would do such a thing?"
Glancing over the staff table, he saw that the only professors present were Sprout and Sinistra. As he thought about the appearance of Crouch and Bagman, it almost seemed coincidental. "Who knows really," he said. "Besides, this is all speculation; I don't actually know who could've done it."
"Oddly specific." Folding her arms, Daphne scoffs at him and drew her eyebrows together. "Do you know something we don't?" She thought she'd press forward by saying. "Like who actually put his name in the goblet?"
The group rapidly move their heads. Tracey gapes at her friend and Theo's eyebrows rose, Draco was at loss, silently wondering what Greengrass meant by that.
Mortimer coolly sipped the rest of his morning tea before examining the cup. "I'm wondering the same thing," he said, shrugging. "Guess it doesn't really matter; Gryffindor has their champion, and Slytherin once again finds itself the object of ridicule." Setting his cup down, he cleared his throat. "I'll be at the library if anyone needs me."
"But it's Sunday," Theo said, making a face to imply why on earth.
Sharing Theo's expression, Draco had suggested to Mortimer. "Yeah. I thought we could hang out with some of guys over at Durmstrang - Sure their accents are bit off, but maybe you'll have a better time understanding them than I did."
Rising from the table, they let him leave peacefully and without words - it's not like they could stop him either way - he had other matters to attend to and talking to them has been a bore. "I'll pass - Besides, Professor Bathsheda gave us loads of work" Mortimer groans, realizing how time consuming it'll be. "It's going to take a while to decipher the tomes."
"Oh shoot, you're right!" Theo jumps in his seat. "I'll go with you."
"Thought it was Sunday." Rolling his eyes, Draco mocks.
"That was before I remembered I had homework."
Without having to say too much, Mortimer starts to leave the Slytherin table. Alongside Theo, they walk further up the great hall. Just as they walked pass a group of beauxbatons students, Granger comes through the doors, scanning for someone.
That someone being Harry.
His face down casted, he keeps his eyes lowered on the table as though it might make him invisible. Soon, Hermione runs to him, speaking quietly to him while he listens.
Mortimer glanced over and continued on his way to the exit.
They stepped out of the great hall, passing through several doors. From the reception hall to the entrance hall, they stepped out into the courtyard. As they journeyed outside, they saw some of the exchange students from both schools, who appeared to be exploring the area. Considering they would be staying there for the rest of the year; it made sense for them to try and get familiar.
Unfortunately, as they crossed the footbridge, the two ran into Lavender. Her brightly blue eyes gleamed through the sky as she approached them with the shiniest of smiles. "Are you here to whisk me away, my sweet prince?" She whispered softly.
Behind him, Theo coughed out a laugh, holding it in as soon as he received a side glare from Mortimer. Turning back towards Brown, he said, "Go away. It's the weekend, and I'd like to enjoy it without having to deal with you."
"You're right, it is the weekend." Her smile never falls from her face. "Since we don't have classes today, I thought we'd spend it together. Just you and me, alone.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Nott utters out, his face had grown red from holding his laughter in. He looked like a red balloon ready to pop.
"Yes!" they both shouted simultaneously.
"You can't leave me now," she pouted, emphasizing her glossy lips. Mortimer was distracted enough for her to reach for his hand. "You're supposed to take me out for a romantic walk outside the grounds and lunch by the lake."
"Wrong." Removing his hand from hers. "What I'm actually going to do is go to the library and -"
"Oh! What are you working on?" Lavender asks him, attempting to take hold of his hand once more.
Avoiding Lavender's moves, he tugs back and answers plainly whilst pushing Notts snickering's aside. "Ancient Runes."
Letting out a short gasp, she effortlessly smiled over his response. "What a coincidence! I haven't done mines either."
"You take Study of Ancient Runes?" Theo asks, sticking his head out from Mortimer's shoulder.
"No. . . But I've always found it fascinating - Especially now that I know my little Morty is taking the subject." Stretching her arm further, Mortimer swats her hand away. "Maybe you can teach me a few things. I'm sure you'd make a fantastic teacher."
"Leave me alone." He whispers harshly enough that it frightened Theo. But, as most times, she was not easily put off by it.
Giggling and keeping him close to her arms, "You're going to take me to Hogsmeade, won't you?"
"No."
Another assortment of her laughs, he winces in response. "It'll be wonderful - Everyone will see that we're officially together and the rest of those leeches," For a second, her eyes went red as she sneers out violently. It was the first time he's ever seen her this way. "will know to stay away."
"You're insane."
"And you," Jabbing her sharp nail at his chest. "are a delight." She laughs softly, sighing and snuggling against him.
Growing hot in the face, Mortimer was too perplexed to resist when Lavender looped her arms around his, dragging him along the straight path towards the route of the entrance. The three of them would move onward to the central hall and shortly arrive the library's corridors.
Unveiled by the annoying needy sounds escaping her lips, Mortimer frantically searches for a way out. Nott was no help. Instead, he appeared to be enjoying himself, chuckling and beaming out heartily and all Mortimer could do was squint at him.
Suddenly, hanging around the kids at Durmstrang didn't seem like a bad idea. Which made it all the more painful when he instantly regrets declining Draco's offer.
On the following day, Mortimer would be returning to his favorite class, Muggle Studies. With his favorite teacher in the entire world, Professor Burbage.
Right now, though, he was walking alongside Luna. Their classes were on the same floor, hers being Transfiguration. Mortimer thought it would be better than having to go separate ways. There weren't many opportunities for the two of them without causing so much as a fuss.
However, it didn't explain why he was carrying her books; to anyone who might be looking, it would appear as if they were merely a couple.
But that's simply not the case.
Her hands were covered in gauze.
The story behind it was that she might have made a mistake in Potions class. Perhaps, she had mixed the wrong ingredients in her cauldron. Because the next thing she knew, her Fire Protection Potion wasn't as protective and had instead been set aflame. Nearly burning her face and arms in the process, Madam Pomfrey managed to heal most of the burns. But it still left Luna's hands feeling the stinging aftereffects.
Hence, she wore the bandages.
Mortimer wasn't blind to the cruel nature of children or the silly little pranks they were known for.
"Are you sure it's okay for us to be seen together?" Luna asked, pushing a strand of hair back. "I wouldn't want to upset Draco; I know he doesn't very much like me."
"He doesn't like anyone really," Mortimer says, trying to distance himself from the guilt. "I'm more worried about you – how are your hands feeling? They still hurt?"
She nodded slowly. "A little better," she murmured. "Minor prickling. Madam Pomfrey said it should go away in a couple of hours." Inspection of her hands followed by opening and closing them. "And thank you again for carrying my books. You didn't have to do that."
Mortimer's lip curve upwards into a small smile and spoke. "It's no trouble. That, and our classes are in the same route." Climbing a few steps, he steps aside for the running ghost who was being chased by another.
"I know - But I'm also aware how much you hate it when people stare." Chewing on her lip, she frowns and glances between the paintings they were passing.
"Don't feel guilty on my part." Mortimer allows the minor tug in the corner of his mouth to go up. "You're my friend, remember?"
Nodding, her spirit was lifted by his words, and they fall back into a comfortable silence. It allows Mortimer and Luna to relax and enjoy their little trip.
Rounding the corner, he did his best to ignore the ardent eyes from several students. They were in disbelief; some felt the need to rub their eyes just to make sure what they were seeing was real.
There were a couple of children running throughout the hall. Running in a zigzag, Mortimer swishes his body to avoid getting in their way and continues to make a right.
Coming across a long corridor, there were sculptures of old poets. Occasionally, they'd stretch and yawn before going back to their poses. A ghost of woman floated near a glass cabinet, searching for an old jade colored button that came loose from her dress.
There were other students walking around, holding quidditch gear and some reading while they loitered by the brick walls.
Luna and Mortimer pass one of the grandfather clocks and proceeded to make their way to their class. With so much going on, Mortimer clashes against another person, dropping two books while saving the other three.
"Sorry. I wasn't looking." Said the person.
Mortimer was about to apologize as well when he realizes the other person was Harry, who quickly bends down to get his books. It takes him a couple of seconds to gather everything.
Seeing that it was Mortimer, Harry grows nervous and glances away. "Mortim - I mean... Black."
Taking the books from hands, Mortimer settles them back in place. "Harry." He acknowledges the distressed champion. "Congratulations on being chosen." He said without malice.
Though Harry seemed put off by it. "I didn't actually put my name in the goblet."
"Probably not, but that doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" Smiling, he hands Luna her textbooks. "I thought I'd compliment you considering no one else is going to."
Harry roughly shakes his head to express his frustration. "You know, I didn't ask for the attention, and I never wanted to compete."
Mortimer arches his eyebrows, then speaks in a teasingly tone. "You have to be mad to even consider it - You know what everyone is saying about you, don't you?"
Harry stands there, mind completely empty as he listened to his question, he reluctantly nods after a few seconds.
"I figured." Shrugging his shoulders, Mortimer gives comforting words he believed would cheer the gyrffindor. "I'm sure you'll survive; you have friends supporting you."
His expression quickly changes. "R-Right." There was a bite to his tone as his face slowly becomes gravely. "my friends..."
It was oblivious to Mortimer, however Luna seemed to pick on it quickly. "And Mortimer is always here if you ever need another friend." She speaks merrily as she places her wrapped hand on his arm.
In a sharp turn, he glances over to Luna. "Excuse me?" Mortimer's sternness was a contrast to his previous encouraging statement, blurts out.
"Harry needs a friend." Luna stares right up at him and then to Potter and his equally confused face.
"He already has many of those."
Raising her chin at him, she shouts. "One more wouldn't hurt!"
Mortimer, in an effort to exempt himself from her suggestion, retorts. "I'm sure he's alright."
"He isn't! Look at him!" Unconvinced, she puts her hands on her hips, dropping her books in the process. "He's hiding."
"Guys?" Harry responds, a cast of confusion sways his features. "I'm right, here. . ."
"He looks perfectly good, for a gryffindor -" Seeing the mess she's made of her texts, he bends down to pick them right up.
She would eventually do the same and join him on the floor. "On the outside sure, but inside he's miserable, crying -"
"I'm fine! Really! You guys don't have to worry -" Harry yells out, looking around at the onlookers of students as they wondered what the slytherin and ravenclaw were doing on the floor.
Potter's words were left unheard, and Mortimer scowls as he reaches the charm book. "What are you? A mind reader? Potter doesn't need his hand to be held - And look what you've done with your textbooks, they have smudges on them now."
"Forget the books!" Lifting her hands in the air. "What if that was you?" Hugging her knees close as she squats down. "I'm sure you would disagree then."
Harry thought he might be losing his mind watching the two go back and forth. "Guys! It's ok!"
"See? He's said it himself. He's perfect."
"Mortimer. . ." Pausing, Luna places her hand over his and gave Mortimer the deepest of looks. "He could really use a friend. . ."
Luna never blinks.
Damn.
She was actually serious!
And Mortimer felt trapped. Her intentions were pure, knowing full well she'd never let it go. After a minute or so, he would run his hand over his face and snaps out. "Fine! We'll send him an application! Happy?"
Her solemn eyes immediately return to their previous happy-go-lucky ones. "Most wonderful!"
Grousing and rolling his eyes, Mortimer retrieves the rest of her books she had dropped and brushes past Potter, pretending as if they didn't just have a conversation about him.
Luna soon does the same and follows Mortimer, hopping alongside him. Both of them could still be heard talking to one another, leaving a very perplexed and dumbfounded Harry in the middle of the corridor. He was left scratching his head, wondering if that had really just happened.
The rest of the journey ends when Mortimer drops Luna off in front of charms classroom. He hands the books to her and waves her goodbye in a very dull manner. He was still annoyed by her attempt at getting him and Potter to somehow get along.
Bleurgh! - He spits on the idea.
Going pass the museum of useless junk, also known as the Muggle Studies showroom, he finally reaches the entrance to his own class.
There were already a few students, but some were still missing, including the Professor.
"Hey, Mortimer." A ravenclaw. If he remembers correctly, it was Mandy Brocklehurst. She was waving at him, her and a few other girls.
They've never spoken to him. Up until now, he was normally ignored, and it was almost never friendly. Lowering his brows, waving was all he could do without being too rude.
The lesson commences as Professor Burbage comes through the side door on the right.
At this stage, the class were huddled together in front of Professor Burbage's desk. They watch with fascination as she shows them the interesting mechanics of the radio. Though for some, it provided a discomforting feeling as the loud static sounds scratches their ear drums. A few hufflepuffs cover themselves as they feared it might explode.
"Worry not children for these are the soundwaves that the device is picking up. Granted - It won't capture any audible sounds. The ministry of magic has all but prohibited the use of muggle inventions in the wizarding world." Burbage explained whilst trying to talk over the blaring noises. "But - if we were indeed to step foot in the nonmagical world - I can assure you it would play something far less. . . grating."
Once she was done, she had finally twisted it off. A sigh of relief, Susan Bones held on her ears just to be safe. Terry Boot even had difficulty erasing the sounds in his head; it was rumbling volumes leaving excess sounds.
Mortimer was among the group that thought little of it and coolly made his way back to his desk. Taking out his quill, he writes the first few sentences of his class assignment. A review about today's lesson and the impact it has created among the muggle folk. But again, he didn't need to break his head over it. He knew about the devices after having been living during his adolescents.
Everyone else follows along as the slytherin continues to write. He had the right idea when the words appear on the parchment. Mortimer ignores the ongoing looks of the Professor, her quest to catch him in the act of dishonesty causes a slight stir within his own thoughts.
By the time he had finished, there were still a few minutes left for the bell to ring.
He was the first to hand over his work and the Professor, having no other choice, takes it from his hand and begins reading over it. He watches her expressions carefully. Observing her blank stare and changing quickly into what he believes it to be as confusion. "World War?" Creases appear on Burbage's front head. "Why mention it?"
Putting his hands behind his back, Mortimer coolly states. "They aren't just used to entertain muggles. They were also used to enable communication towards soldiers fighting in the front. It was still very early and didn't evolve until the second war. But I thought it was important since the device had gone through many variations and served different purposes." A minor pause, he gave her time to process his words. "Is it too much?" He asks innocently enough, enjoying the baffled look in her face.
She briefly pauses, rereading his work again and then looking back at him. "It's perfectly fine, Mr. Black." She relents, her tone was quiet when she comments. "I must say, I'm fairly impressed by your extended knowledge. Is your family aware at just how acquainted you are with the those who aren't so. . . pure?"
"They do." Bobbing his head, he was unruffled by her skepticism. "Though, I can't say they particularly approve. Still, they're very supportive with my choices."
Curious, and a little bit weary, Professor Burbage lets Mortimer head back to his seat. It took longer for some to finish up so when the bell rang there was a gutter of frustrated breathes.
Glancing over to the class, their expressions show signs of relief. It was strange, they acted as though the assignment had been a difficult one. It just went on to show how different wizards were from regular people. Were they really so different? They look the same, talked in the same language and share somewhat similarities when it came to their fashion choices.
Yet, every witch or wizard he's met had the same alienated thoughts when it came to the nonmagical. To them, muggles were an odd species. They were unpredictable and unusual for their capabilities. Wizards were often confused, yet curious at human accomplishments, creating civilizations without the use of magic. How did they survive for so long? Because they were so extraordinary, it meant that they needed to be met with great caution.
The sound of laughing girls passing by snaps Mortimer back to the room. Gathering his stuff, he leaves the classroom, with everyone joining him seconds later.
He weaves his way through the crowd, his hand wrapped tightly around his books - he feared losing them when stepping foot in the halls. It was swarming with both home and foreign students, here for the remainder of the year.
Avoiding bumping into too many shoulders, Mortimer heads down the grand staircase and descends further in the location of the dungeons. By now, he was sure everyone had gone down for lunch but frankly, he wasn't much in the mood to eat and decides to spend the hour working on his assignments. It wasn't until he heard the bell ringing again that he realizes his next class was about to begin.
Running into a few faces, he climbs several steps and walks for nearly five minutes.
Charms class, students were pondering what the professor had in store for them. As some of the furniture was placed to the side. Professor Flitwick had set a rather large trunk in the middle of the classroom. As they all pile up inside, they take their seats and watch the half-goblin pacing down with his hands behind his back.
"Alright children, today we'll be making use of our wands and preforming a rather, arguable, spell - Cistem Aperio! Also known as the Box Blasting Charm. Quite useful for opening trunks and chests and those tightly bolted cabinets that just make you want to tear your hairs out!" He chortled; it descends when he realizes no one else was laughing.
He clears his throat and proceeds. "Anyways, I'd like for each and everyone here to give the spell a try - Now watch my movements children; I wouldn't want any of you to blow off any fingers."
"Has that ever happened before?" Asked Mandy Brocklehurst, with worry in her tone.
There was weary noise coming from Flitwick when he answers. "Not whilst I was teaching - But yes." He nods. "It has happened before." Tsking away as he retrieves his wand. "Silly students have attempted to break into the school's stocks and forbidden rooms. But what they failed to realize is that us professor make sure we double our charm security. So, if any one you get any ideas... think again my children." He goes on to giggle.
After a few minutes of watching Flitwick practice and studying his wand movements, they practiced the incantation, repeating, Cistem Aperio, together.
A moment later, Professor Flitwick motions everyone to get into a line.
One by one they all rise from their seat, setting their textbooks aside, some took out their wands and gathered neatly in the middle of the classroom. Mortimer was one of the last to get in line, he wasn't particular interested, but who was really. Some carried dulled-like expressions and some yawned.
Witches like Sue Li grumbled under their breaths, she had probably hoped today's lesson wouldn't be so boring. Edmund Spiers seemed less than thrilled as well but still maintained his focused. Tracey Davis walks casually and merely fixes her hair as she joins the others.
Nonetheless they formed a column. Professor Flitwick points and locks the trunk closed. The first person to go was Michael Corner, another ravenclaw, who swiftly yells. "Cistem Aperio!"
"Good! Mr. Corner, very good." Flitwick said in a pleasing voice. "Next - Ah, Miss Bulstrode."
Her eyes went straight to the trunk, her low brows conveyed the boredom she was feeling and simply mutters out the same spell. During which, the students took an intake of breath when the chest is pushed a few feet back.
"Yes." Flitwick hoped nervously. "Wonderful work Miss Bulstrode, I can see your family's traits has held its weight with their magic."
Millicent grumbles in response when she makes her way back to the end of the line.
Everyone in the class knew by now that Bulstrode didn't need to try that much. Her magic was like a force wind you can feel just by watching her. It was scary for some, but Mortimer often found her to be quite a fascinating witch.
After Bulstrode went Terry Boot. The same goes for him and had no problem opening the trunk. Adam Pike, a slytherin, strode in front of the wooden chest and blasted it right open. Padma Patil was also able to unbolt it in a matter of seconds after yelling out the spell.
So far everyone was having an easy time with the lesson. Quietly, they return to their desks as they waited for the others to have a go. Some saw this as pointless, considering the amount of effort that was put in. It almost felt like they were back in the first year, doing baby magic and whatnot.
It was a pattern that was followed. Flitwick would close the trunk, student casts the spell and the trunk then opens. Close, open, repeat. Simple.
Once Tracey and another ravenclaw went, it was now Mortimer's turn. "Mr. Black, you have your wand - Oh yes, good. Now remember not to loosen your wrist after Cistem, that's usually when the charm takes effect."
"Yes, Professor Flitwick." Mortimer replies low, drawing his wand.
Lifting his short arm, Flitwick signals Mortimer to get ready and then swing it back down.
At which, Mortimer casts out and sweeps his arm, shouting out. "Cistem Aperio!"
An intense glowing white light causes temporary loss of sight. A long hiss starts ringing in their ears. Some of the young teens let out panic gasped as they didn't know what had just happened or why they've suddenly gone blind. They were left asking questions, Terry Boot was the first to shout out.
"What's going on?"
"Ugh - I can't see!" Yells another from their desk.
"Professor Flitwick!"
"My eyes!"
"Calm down, children!" Professor Flitwick commands, trying to recover from the flash. "Now, now, everything is fine - It's only brief. Everything will be sorted out soon." Rubbing eyes, he blinks several times. "Mr. Black? Are you alright?"
A faint painful noise. "Yeah. . ."
From the far end of end the room and underneath the apron of a now cracked window, his body laid as Mortimer moans out. "I'm ok." Waving an arm in the air while he uses the other to prop himself up.
A fickle groan emits from his narrowly lips. He felt as though he had been viciously pushed. The wind completely sucked out of his lungs; he could hardly hear himself think with the noises.
When the blurriness in their vision disappears, they soon get a good look at their surroundings. One of the first few who took note of Black was Tracey. She gulps at the sight and makes her way towards him. Everyone soon follows when they start piling up, forming a circle around him.
But unlike the others, Terry Boot goes in the opposite direction. He treads towards the trunk, appearing as though it might jump at him if he's not careful. When he does, his eyes widen. It had ceased to exist.
Sharp splinters and small planks were tossed over the area. Bits and pieces can be seen, and a dark smudge smeared where the chest use to be. It was like someone had taken a large chunk of the it. The top open was all but obliterated, the bottom was horribly damaged, and some pieces were missing.
Everyone else was focused on Mortimer, they haven't even noticed.
"Mortimer!" Davis cries out, fidgeting with her hands as she tries not to touch him. "Don't move."
The ravenclaws and slytherins start questioning everything. How it went south so quickly, in just a few seconds. It wasn't everyday a wizard was able to display such powerful feats.
They mutter and spew endless questions; they were afraid to touch him.
Everyone was talking out loud and you couldn't hear much without hearing their panicked tones. Flitwick had to shove himself between students just to get to the front. "Step aside! Let me through!"
While the children pondered the magical blast that had occurred in the classroom, some muttered and whispered in each other's ears before going quiet to when the professor draw near Mortimer.
Seeing his student on the floor, Filius didn't need to bend down, he had a good look of Mortimer. "I don't see any injuries. How is your head?"
Touching the back of his head, he felt a little wet spot, revealing he must have cut his head when crashed on the window. "It's not too bad. . ."
His lips were pressed tightly, nodding. "Right. Will someone please escort Mr. Black to the hospital wing?"
"Oh, me! I can -" Mandy began to walk forward.
But Sue Li would intervene by shoving her to the side. "No, I'll do it!"
"Here, here, pick me." The sound of another girl.
"Let me do it!"
"Back of Harken -"
As the girls argued on who gets to take Mortimer, Professor Flitwick was having a harder time bringing back order as the volume is turned up. From where he rested, Mortimer manages to get a small glimpse of Boot and the battered trunk. Should he be concerned?
He decides to worry about it later.
With everyone else distracted, he uses this chance to get up from the floor. Patting his robes and fixing his tie, he looks over to the side and spots his fellow mate standing to the side.
"Let's go Bulstrode." He commands, avoiding the crowd as they were occupying themselves with their own voices.
They didn't notice him leaving the room. Unbeknownst to Mortimer, Boot's been watching him the entire time and back at the chest. A feeling that didn't sit right, there was nothing he could do.
Walking out into the corridor, Mortimer and Millicent kept the same slow pace, neither wanting to go back to class.
"Here." Bulstrode hands him a hanky for him to put on his injury.
Taking it from her hand, he thanks her and adds pressure to the backside of his head.
"You're not normal." Bulstrode said it so boldly, she kept her eyes forward.
Mortimer couldn't find a reason to disagree. He chuckles in a way that would send shivers on anyone else's spine. "Of course not. I'm related to Malfoy." He jeers.
Shaking her head, her loud footsteps trail further down the halls. "That's not what I meant." She huffs, frowning and observing Mortimer, continuing to hold onto the napkin. "But it's fine. You keep on being weird so when you do finally explode, I can say I was right about you."
Removing the cloth, he studies it and notices that the bleeding had stopped. "Right about what?"
"That you're weird."
And after spending an hour in the hospital wing, he was able to convince Madam Pomfrey from keeping him there the whole night. He was close to getting on his knees once she had suggested he stay another hour. Which, he didn't think he'd survive. Thankfully, a potion was it took for his injury to heal. Him nearly cracking his skull wasn't as concerning, but rather what he'd done in charms.
He completely destroyed that chest.
With no effort, Mortimer had blasted the thing into mincemeat. It shocked everybody, including him. He couldn't quite believe it was him that did it. Surely, no one of his height could accomplish such a thing. Yet, he did, and he wonders where magic like that came from.
If he could do that to a measly old trunk, perhaps there was more he could do. A lot of questions still linger in his mind and again, there is no answer.
The courtyard was empty, the chilly weather discourages anyone from coming outside as most opted to stay warm inside. Though the breeze wind-blowing weather wasn't enough to deter him from going out.
Mortimer closed his eyes and tried to coax out the suppose family magic, the one he supposedly inherently had, the one that nobody could take. All except Potter, as it seems. Some part of him believed Harry had stolen his gift the night Tom had been destroyed. It certainly would explain why he was able to speak parseltongue and see right through his father's eyes. Frustration swirled and grew in quicker that he thought possible and even without opening his eyes, Mortimer knew that Potter could sense something was off about him when their eyes first met.
As time went on, he slowly opens his eyes and stared up at Ginny's pale freckled face, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her eyes were exaggerated by the grey skies and her hair vibrant reddish hair flew back, creating a sort of angelic view of her face.
"Are you ok?' Ginny bends down on one knee on the stone tile and places her small warm hand on his forehead. "You're all sweaty."
He paused to take a deep breath and come up with a response. "I'm fine." He murmured. "I've been stuffed inside the library all day; I thought the air might be good." Repeating through the same script he uses for every question such as these.
"I'm not sure I believe you." She shakes her head, removing her hand. "You tend to close yourself off from everyone else. For all I know, you could be in dying and the chances of you telling me are zero to none - That's how pigheaded you are."
Mortimer sighed as the magic disappears and he slumps his shoulders. "Are you in danger?" He could hear Ginny say but didn't instantly answer.
Instead, he chooses to stay quiet for a couple of minutes before saying. "No." Mortimer answers low. "But that's not what's concerning me. There are things I can't say are for sure."
She raises her brow as she notices the distant look in his emotionless expression, his eyes seemed almost empty, like he was somewhere else. "Does it have something to do with your father?"
There were things he couldn't hide from her; she knew too much. And it was starting to bother him just how little he could keep to himself without having her see right through him. The word 'father' was enough to drive him insane - He of course tries to bury it deep into the untouchable part of himself using his occlumency.
He returns a forced smile to ease her concerns, though admittedly his eyes were beginning to darken. "No." Clearing his throat. "Actually, I was thinking about hogsmeade. . . We've yet to go since they've been too busy getting worked up over the other schools."
"I bit of a delay I would say - I'm sure we'll end up going before the holidays are to arrive." Ginny goes along, but of course she could see what he was trying to do and quickly wipes it off. "But that isn't what's really occupying that thick skull of yours, isn't it?"
"I'll have you know that my skull is of normal size - if not bigger - Considering how smart I am." He breathes, simply unable to resist the urge to annoy his friend. "And apparently. . . a cutie at that."
A disgruntled huff, you could see her breath as she rolls her eyes. "You are such a brat." She gets up and squeezes herself right beside him, shoving him to the side with her shoulder.
Granted, he was heavier, and Ginny didn't have the strength to do so. Mortimer, regardless, allows her to push him around. "We're friends." She would whisper through the sharp wind. "Friends tell each other everything, no matter how horrible it may be - they don't keep secrets from each other - does it have something to do with your dad?"
"No." He answers rapidly, keeping his head forward he spots a smidge of dirt on his pants. "He has nothing to do with anything." Attempting to scrape the stain off using his finger. "I wanted to get away - Can't very much do that when you're here pestering me."
"It's what friends do!" Puffing out her chest, she flashes him a bright smile. "And seeing you turn red; I can say I've done my job to annoy you." She giggles, much to his disapproval.
Mortimer faces away from her, his hands clamped firmly over his lap. "I rather much be alone if that were the case..."
Facing him as the sky grew a little darker, he was nearly struck by her question. "Didn't you have friends growing up?"
It was fairly simple to answer but by the tone of her voice she seemed rather stunned. Did she believe he was the popular type? Maybe in another life he would've been.
But not in this one.
He turns his attention to her. "No, can't say that I have." Mortimer began to loosen his tie. "You should feel special, you're actually the first person who thought of me as a friend - back when we first bumped into each other."
"Really?" She gasped as her eyes glimmered. "Do you mean that?"
Nodding his head, he said. "My first wizarding friend - or should I say witch?"
Ginny is as surprised as he was, and starts to hug him, catching him off guard. "Aw, you're going to make me cry! I didn't think you were capable of such emotions!"
Her teasing had him rolling his eyes and scowling as he continues to let her squeeze him. Her laughter ringing out the courtyard, he couldn't help but smile as well.
Her head was just underneath his chin so she could visibly see his Adams apple. With his tie loosened, Ginny was able to get a peep of what was underneath his shirt. There was a small golden chain of some kind. "Hey," She stops and let's go. "what's that?"
"What's what?" Fixing his shirt and flicking a piece of dust of his shoulder, he acts nonchalantly.
Reaching for his neck, she was able to get a small hold of the chain around his neck, slightly exposing it. "This?" She begins to shake her head in disbelief and laughs softly. "I didn't know you like to wear jewelry. I thought you said it was rubbish."
At first sight of this, his smile drops almost instantly, and he impulsively grips at her wrist. "Drop it."
"Ow! Mortimer, you're hurting me -" His hand was locked tight, Ginny hisses in short pain.
At the first sound of distress, Mortimer swiftly let's go of her hand. "Shit! I'm sorry, Ginny!" His voice shrouded in guilt and regret. "I didn't mean to. Are you alright?"
"Ye-Yeah..." Ginny gently rubs her wrist. "A bit sore -"
"I didn't mean to do that - Honest! I don't know what came over me..." He tries to explain further but was struggling. Truthfully, he was aware of the real reason. To tell her would be a bad idea.
"Mortimer, it's fine, really."
He wasn't listening, however. "Here," Hurriedly, he rises from the stone bench they were sitting on. "I'll take to Madam Pomfrey, and she can take care of it."
"Mortimer -"
Leaning down to take her other hand, Mortimer tries to get Ginny to get up. "Don't worry. I promise I'll leave after. I won't bother you ever again, just let me help this one time -"
"Will you stop it already!" Ginny's frustrated voice cuts through the air, making him freeze of the spot. "I said I'm fine. See?" Showing him her pale wrist, it was slightly pink but nothing worth being concerned over. "I'm fine. You can stop freaking out now."
Mortimer doesn't say anything for a minute, his eyes locked onto to her small hand, thinking about what she said. Was she really, ok? Was he? "I. . ."
"Black, if you say sorry one more time, I'm going to give you a good sock in the face. Now, calm down, it isn't a big deal."
"Not a big deal? I shouldn't have never put my hands on you." Commented morbidly, letting the reality of his actions set in. Cringing back when Ginny decides to take a step near him, he shook his head. "How can you be 'ok' with this?"
"You stopped yourself before anything could really happen and I know you."
"You know me?" Baffled by her sentence, he laughs and was unconvinced. "You don't know me..."
"Of course, I do git!" She remarked bitterly that her simmering irritation causes her to flick his forehead back. "Stop beating yourself up and acting like you're the worse!" She breathes out, trying to get him to understand. "You aren't them so stop comparing yourself."
"You don't get it -"
"It's you that doesn't get it." Ginny interrupted, refusing to feed his self-hatred. "You aren't Tom or Lestrange, and you'll never be. I see it. Luna sees it too - Your friends can see it. Stop being stubborn and for once be happy that you have us to talk to. There's nothing you could say to me that will make me change the way I think about you." It was like talking to a brick wall that she couldn't resist the urge to push him back a few feet.
He bites his tongue to stop himself from countering further, studying her serious expression and once again finds the fiery determination glaring back at him.
She meant what she said, and Mortimer couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry." It was all he could come with on the spot.
"You're infuriating, you know that?"
"Yeah." He retorts with a minor smirk. "I guess I am.. . It's what friends are supposed to do, right?"
A pleased grin on her face, the irritation from before has faded away momentarily. "Right."
Looking over his shoulder, he sits back down and not long after, Ginny joins him.
They sat in silent comfort for a moment, unsure of what either one should say. Maybe he should apologize again. No, that didn't sound very fitting considering how she threatened him minutes ago.
Whatever Ginny decides to do next, a blooming pit of dread in his stomach made it exceptionally clear that he had to say something that could explain his unusual behavior. Or at least explain it in a way that made it sound reasonable, one that she'd believe and not ask questions.
"Will you tell what got you all bothered up?" Barely masking her troubled frown, she asks. "I wasn't making fun of you; I was merely curious." She clarifies, sounding rather strain when he continues to drift off. "You always said jewelry was stuff of nonsense, pompous wizards and all that junk. Did you change your mind?" She wonders.
Ginny thought his reasoning was because he had been caught wearing something he always believed to be impractical. Which was true. Wizards often wore heirlooms and fine accessories to boast about how wealthy and how famous they were. To gloat about their family names and skite about their importance.
None of it was true, however. His reason was much more different. Whereas others might've proudly put slytherin's locket out for display for those to see. He was trying to do the opposite. It needed to be kept away, hidden from their view - The leeches. An important relic, Salazar Slytherin was practically seen as some sort of God, along with the other three.
Mortimer would be an idiot if he were to let anyone know that he held an important piece of wizarding history. It's a shame that the Gaunts were too stupid to realize that. Moreso towards his grandmother, Merope Gaunt for relinquishing it in the first place.
But as much as he hated to admit it, he was happy when she did. Come to realize Tom would relocate the locket in the future and hand it over to one of his followers, it was best mistake he could've made. And because of it, Mortimer was able to get a hold of it.
It belongs to him now.
No one was ever going to take it away from him.
He'll kill them first before letting them touch it.
"Mortimer?"
"Yes, what is it, Ginny?"
"You still there?"
"I'm here." Clearing his throat, he looks away briefly as he was uncertain whether or not he should keep his mouth shut.
Could he trust her? Did he even want to try to? He hesitates for the longest time, his mouth opening and closing as if considering how to answer. His chest suddenly felt hot, like a pan over the oven that he nearly hisses out pain.
It didn't feel right. No, he couldn't tell her the truth. It was completely unreasonable to have to explain. She had no right asking questions. Ginny got off easy, if Mortimer really wanted to hurt her than he very well could've.
"Mortimer?" Ginny spoke again, it was louder this time. "You alright'?"
Snapping him out of his trance, he stares at her and embarrassed by his lack of response. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He forces put, hoping she didn't hear the irritation in his voice.
"Your eyes have gone red again." Ginny fizzes, scrunching her face in the process. "I was really hoping Dumbledore could've done something about it."
"Me too." Mortimer mutters and fetches his wand before casting colovaria.
He could tell she was trying to decipher what was troubling him but hadn't probed him enough to find out. The two remained quiet, maybe a little to long, admiring the brushing leaves and cool breeze of the autumn season.
"We should go back inside." Mortimer said softly, breaking the silence as he rubs his eyes.
Aware that he wasn't going to respond, Ginny sighed in defeat. "You can tell me anything." Getting up from the bench, she padded her back thighs and fixed her hair a bit. "I won't think differently." She says one last time.
Providing a nod, he lets Ginny guide him back into the castle. He muscles twitch every now and then when she takes hold of his hand, pulling him inside. He was hoping no one would be around to see the two of them, least Draco finds out and then he'd be in trouble.
Mortimer was restless when he made his way back to his room. If he thought yesterday was bad, after having wasted the day in restriction section of the library - and finding nothing! Then today has been absolute torture. He was slowly starting to show cracks from these thoughts.
If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel the locket whispering. If it had a body of its own, he could honestly swear it had grown soft and delicate fingers. Tracing his cheeks gently, it sent shivers down his spine. It made the desire to open it increase further, the ache inside him grows tenfold.
It felt nice.
On that night, he was unbothered by dreams most associated with memories. Mortimer barely felt it as his mind drifted elsewhere. Thoughts that had detached themselves from his very body. His head snuggling close to his pillow, every breath he took gently dispersed into the warm confines of his enclosed space that he called his dorm. The only sounds gazing his ears were those of softening, comforting hums, filling the silent room, like a soothing melody.
It was the perfect tune to carry his mind to the stars of conception, for at least there he'd find peace.
He was utterly inconsolable.
The day after their confrontation, Ginny had given Mortimer a tight hug before class, her worry eyes firmly closed while she held him. Telling him that 'everything is okay', whispering it in his ear as he tries pulling away. They hadn't spoken about it since, and he thought he didn't deserve to be forgiven. But regardless, she had insisted that her injury was not as bad as he made it sound to be and attempted to lighten up the mood by changing topics.
They depart from each other soon after and the two would go opposite directions.
His double dose of potion's class today was proving to be quite event. Despite having Longbottom as a desk partner, Mortimer had consistently avoided getting sucked into the clumsy, blunder of a tornado Neville is used to creating for himself. And rather, managed to stay alive long enough for Mortimer to make it to lunch.
However, it was during lunch that Mortimer curiously observed Draco at the table. There was a whole box filled with blank badges. He'd grab them and mutter underneath his breath. A tad glow would appear, and Draco would set it back down and repeat the process all over again.
Some of his housemates began chuckling at what Draco was doing.
Mortimer didn't bother to question but remained suspicious throughout the period.
Once lunch was over, they headed back towards the dungeon. Descending down the steps, Draco whispers beside him. "Here, take one."
At first glance Mortimer saw nothing wrong with it, studying it close he squints and reads it to himself. He rolls his eyes as the badge glowed red and the words Support Cedric Diggory - The REAL Hogwarts Champion.
"Well? What do you think? Funny, right?" Draco asks when they turned the corner.
He ends up replying with a dull tone. "Grand."
"Put in on." Draco begins to giggle, handing them towards anyone passing by the two. "I made them myself."
"I was there." The badge still resting between his fingers, Mortimer huffs out. "I thought we outgrew this already."
Coming down the middle of the dungeon, he gives one to a startling Parkinson and a few of her friends walking alongside her. "That was before Potter decided to push Diggory out of the spotlight for himself." Draco, baring his teeth, sneers in irritation and didn't hide. "Scarhead deserves it."
Passing over the row of armored knights, he starts to open his mouth. "I'd normally agree..." Flipping with the button, he sighed knowing Draco might not like what he hears. "But I'd rather not get detention."
Just as Mortimer had expected, Draco's eyes widen and exclaimed. "As if that'll stop Professor Snape from giving out detention." He stops mid-step, nearly causing a traffic accident with the others. "Everyone is going to start wearing these and you'll be left without one."
He tries to stifle the smile that was beginning to rise in the corners of his mouth. Seeing the annoyance in Draco's face had brought him a sense of amusement. It was always funny seeing his veins grow at the mention of Potter. "I'll manage."
"Suit yourself."
Peering over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening, he pauses and could see Potter and Granger from behind, they were one of the last few students to come out of the great hall. It was odd, Weasley was nowhere near them.
As their figures grew more and more, Mortimer would prompt his feet and proceed to the small crowd of students waiting by the door, Professor Snape had yet to show.
Surprise, surprise, Mortimer finds Weasley standing near Seamus and Dean, conversing and having a good laugh while Potter wore a look of dejection.
Very interesting.
Deciding to stand by the nearby wall, Mortimer leans back, watching as Draco adjusts the badge on his robe. Crabbe was doing the same and Parkinson went near a corner laughing with the girls at how the badges changed to Potter Stinks.
The commotion triggers slytherin to laugh even louder as Potter and Granger approaches the entrance. "Like them, Potter?" Draco says out loud, he wanted everyone to hear. "It does more, take a look!"
Everyone around them starts to laugh when Potter stumbles back, his face swelling in anger. For a moment, Mortimer's pupils move to the side to look at Weasley. While he wasn't laughing with them, he also wasn't helping the people he thought were his friends.
This gave Mortimer an idea.
Holding out another pinned button, Draco offers it Hermione. "Want one Granger?" Waving it teasingly in front of her bucktoothed face. "I've got loads to spare - Just don't touch my hand - I don't know what kind of diseases you muggleborns are carrying."
It was as though something had snapped within Potter. Whether it was Draco's insult towards his friend that caused it, or it was a buildup of everything that has happened to him over the week. Regardless, the pent-up emotions he's kept inside had suddenly come busting right out of his chest.
His intentions were clear once Harry takes out his wand, angrily putting it out for everyone to see.
"Harry!" Hermione yells out. "Don't..."!
There was a slight panic amongst those around them. The sights of weapons being drawn, everyone had scurried away. Although tempted, Mortimer restrained himself from getting involved. He was serious about what he had previously said. Detention simply wouldn't do him any good. And upsetting Snape poses the risk of having his permission to the restricted section revoked.
Draco stood unmoving and went to fetch his wand, a daring cast in his silver eyes, he dared. "Come on Potter, I've been wanting to use these spells on someone."
Frantically, Hermione searching for assistance - finds Mortimer leaning back against wall, his arms folded, giving the idea that he cared very little. "Are you going to stand there? Do something!"
The two of them staring each other down, both refusing to give anyone the satisfaction, the atmosphere rapidly goes tense. It didn't take a genius to know it was bound to blow up.
Like everybody else, Mortimer's eyes were glued towards the boys. "Draco isn't going to listen to me. Telling him not to do something only makes him want to do it more."
"So, you're just going to let him get hurt?" Hermione shouts near his ear.
In a brief pause, he shrugs. "Draco can take care of his own problems."
No one was sure how much time had passed and by then, a flicker between their eyes, Harry and Draco yell out at the same time.
"Furnunculus!"
"Densaugeo!"
Their attack clashed against each other that they had bounced in all different kinds of directions. The children begin to scream and run away.
Instinctively, Mortimer had dropped down to the floor, avoiding getting hit.
Hermione, however, wasn't so lucky as her teeth had begun to grow at an increasing rate. It was then that Weasley had finally decided to run to Granger and inspect the severity of the spell.
The crowd gathered around them and some of the students, mainly slytherins, start to laugh as Hermione covers her mouth. Her eyes watering and her face red with shame, their giggles grew louder.
In spite of her bitter judgement against him, Mortimer always like to maintain the fact that he was raised a gent. Going against his thoughts, Mortimer gets up from the floor and pushes the crowd to the side.
At the sight of Mortimer, Ron orders out. "Get away from her, Black."
But Mortimer ignores the annoying Weasley and shoves the redhead back. "I'll take you to the hospital wing." He tells Hermione, a pang of guilt. "Madam Pomfrey has a potion that will stop it from growing."
"Augh - Mortimer, don't touch her, she could be carrying a plague." Pansy says in disgusted tone.
Draco also couldn't believe what his cousin was doing. Harry, quite the guilt-stricken fellow silently stood back but the anger lingered in those bright eyes of his.
Hermione continues to hide behind her hands and nods in acceptance. As the two were ready to leave, another voice sneers out. "And where are you two going?"
It was Professor Snape coming right after everything had unfolded. His presence known, everybody wanted to give their side of the story. The various of inaudible voices gave Snape an instant headache he was not ready to deal with.
"Quiet! All of you!" Snape lashes out that some of the students had taken steps back. "What happened here?"
"Harry attacked -"
"Draco went first -"
And everyone else had piled on, throwing their two cents. "I said silence!" Snape's raging voice boomed.
"Black!" Snape calls out with a sharp finger. "Explain."
Now, everyone was looking at him. He didn't want Draco to get upset with him and he certainly didn't want to give Harry a reason not to trust him. Keeping in mind that the gryffindor is carrying a memory Mortimer is keen to get, he lowers his eyes to his feet and shrugs. "I don't know, I was tying my shoe when it happened, Sir."
He scowls, flaring his hooked nose at him before turning over to Malfoy. "What happened?"
"Harry - He attacked me -"
"You attacked Hermione!"
"and he hit Goyle in the face!"
Inspecting the boy, his face swelled behind several expanding boils. "Goyle to the hospital wing." Snape growled.
"What about Hermione!" From the other side Ron came marching, elbowing Mortimer back, he made her show Snape her overly sized teeth.
"I don't see the difference."
As if Snape couldn't have made things worse, the muggleborn - having been humiliated enough, ran out into the halls. The complete outrage, Harry and Ron shout at the Professor, throwing words to express the unfairness towards the gryffindors.
"Fifty points from gryffindor - detention for Potter, Weasley AND Black."
"What!" Mortimer shouted. The bickering gryffindors quieted for a moment, listening. "I didn't do anything!"
"Precisely." Snape hisses out softly, admiring Mortimer's angered look.
As Mortimer prepares to retort, Snape was swift to shut down any ideas he might be having. "Do not tempt me." He said with an icy stare.
Knowing the potion master, Snape could easily carry out his threats. He was influential with the Malfoy's and perhaps Dumbledore, and if Mortimer tried anything, he would surely find a way to make his life unbearable to live - At that point, he'd be no different than Potter.
Words stuck in his throat, his nails dug into his flesh, it was painful, but it kept him from answering. Rather dig himself into a deeper hole, Mortimer was the first to enter the classroom. During which, the students follow while Mortimer flops down to his seat. He had cracked his neck a few times when Longbottom, and his fidgeting body, went to sit beside him.
Funnily enough, Potter had been left abandoned by Ron. The redhead had gone off to sit with Dean and Seamus. How is that fair? When Mortimer had tried it, he was tossed back. It went to show him how much Snape really didn't like him.
As Professor Snape went on to the lesson. Yet, the lesson wouldn't truly start when a knock interrupts him, further angering the man. Colin Creevey was his name and here he was to carry Potter right out of the room. Everyone here soon witness their star champion be excused from the class. It would appear that Potter was to join the other champions for some glamor shots.
With his head hanging, Harry gathers his belongs. He acts as though he had been publicly shamed, told by his sunken shoulders and hidden flush face.
They wore their badges, jeering and teetering. The label Potter stinks morphs in his face as he quickly paces down the classroom.
Should Mortimer feel bad?
Does he?
No, not really.
But with every situation, there is always a door ready to be opened.
And Mortimer thinks he's found one.
The trinkling water running down the stream, Mortimer watches a frog hopping on top of the rock as it looks distantly. Another swims up, its beady eyes staring right up at him, the reptile croaks before swimming back down.
Sounds of nature allows Mortimer to relax. He runs his hands through the small stream, the cool water swimming across his skin, he huffs right out into the air. Mortimer sat with his knees pulled to his chest, idling his fingers, he swishes the water from side to side.
He stops for a second to pull out his wand. Gently aiming it at the riverbed, he mutters underneath his breath. At his will, a gentle streamline of the lake reaches upwards, it goes in direction of where his hand was moving to.
Now and then he'd blink just to remember he wasn't asleep. He was slightly tired from the night before, serving his detention and carefully out picking the brains of rats.
For the duration he was stuck there, he mostly ignored Ron and Harry. Though the effort didn't need to be made. If Mortimer had his suspicions that they were no longer on friendly terms, the night in detention made it blatantly obvious. They didn't speak to each other, not even sharing a glance. Ron wore an oddly angered look while Harry carried a resemblance off a kicked puppy.
After an hour, Professor Snape had excused him for the night. Yet, that wouldn't be the case for the two gryffindor's as they had another hour to go.
Snape might've not liked Mortimer, but he really despised Potter and Weasley at that moment. All the more grateful when he had finally let him go.
A loud twig snaps behind him.
He sighs but does not move from his spot. Was this another attack? Was it the same people after him? He had hoped, Pickering or whatever his name was had learned his lesson the first time. Him and the rest them. What was Mortimer going to do with them this time?
Breathing out, they really needed to find some other hobbies. Besides trying to kill him, why not form a knitting club instead? It would sure be a lot more productive and a lot less painful, especially now that he's lost all patience.
Nonetheless, if they were here for him, then let them come. He was in a mood to fight, and it was best that they don't know that.
The sounds only come close and with each step his body becomes tense, almost like he was preparing himself for a fight. Using his other hand, he plays with the water, giving the illusion that he hadn't notice the sound.
For a while, the noises stop. Mortimer sat silently watching the stream. A couple of brightly blue billywigs flew across him. One of them pauses briefly, its grey clouded eyes boring into Mortimer's before it releases a small screeching sound. It almost instantaneously vanishes as it didn't linger long.
The stranger makes a coughing noise to get his attention.
The voice alone, Mortimer knew who it was. "Yes, Harry? What is it?" Peering his eye over to Potter, he stumbles back for some reason.
"What are you doing out here?" He asks looking across the forest, imagining how one could get easily lost.
"Relaxing." Answering as his gaze softens and quietly puts his wand back inside his robe. "Being trapped in that castle all day long can get really stuffy. The air is nice too."
Harry's response was perplexed as he notes. "It's freezing."
The revelation was made evident as Harry wore two sweaters underneath his robes, even then it wasn't enough. "Yeah, I guess your right..." Inspecting his own attire. "Too chilly to be out -" Under his robe, he was only wearing his shirt and vest, certainly wouldn't provide any protection. "So, what finds you here?"
There was a slight flush creeping up his neck, scratching the corner of his lip, explains. "I was fed up with everyone accusing me, I thought getting out of the castle might make things better." Walking where Mortimer was sitting, he decides to rest near him. "Then I saw you doing the same..."
"So, you thought of following me?"
Harry shrugs, sitting back, he uses his arms for support. "I was curious about where you might be going. I sometimes see you going into the forest. I thought, what could possibly be there that makes you keep coming back? I can see the appeal now, it's beautiful out here."
"It is." Mortimer couldn't have agreed more. "It's even better when you're alone."
Hinting at the sign, Harry's gaze shift back at the blowing trees. "I wrote to Sirius the other day, have you kept contact with him."
Mortimer smiles. What a stupid question. "No. I can barely tolerate him as it is. Let alone writing - I did tell him that too and he agrees."
"But he's your family..." He said, yet there was uncertainty "Right?"
"A second cousin? Third? Or something... uncle? The lines do often get messy considering they use to marry their cousins." Twisting his face, Mortimer made a gross sound. "All for the sake of purity."
"You don't agree?"
"No. I don't believe marrying Draco would make our blood any cleaner." Sticking his tongue to make puking noises, he couldn't see how anyone would agree.
Harry starts to laugh at the image. "Yeah. I think I'd rather be under the cruciatus curse."
Wouldn't be something... Any who, Mortimer attempts not to comment further. "How's the champion being treated? Have girls flocked to you side? Did you receive your golden medal? Is your crown too big to wear?"
Harry jerks his head to Mortimer, a glint of anger in his eyes. "Don't make fun me. I get that from everyone else already."
"Then why did you come here? I don't particularly like you, and you hardly think of me as a good person or am I really that special?" Mortimer says with amusement.
There was a minute where Harry halts, a single wrinkle in his forehead made him think there was something he wanted to ask but didn't know how to put it in a sentence. "Do you think I put my name in the goblet?" And like that, Harry asked bluntly.
His eyes wander towards his body, noticing he was shivering under his robes whilst Mortimer could hardly feel the sharp wind and remained still. But back to his question. "No." He said plainly. "I told Draco and others the same thing - They're under the impression that you carry god-like powers and were able to get pass Dumbledore's protection line."
"And what did you tell them? That I didn't? Because it's true, I didn't." Harry spat out towards the end; his facial muscles twitched by his cheek.
"They wouldn't believe me either way." Gently splashing his hand on the streaming water, he continues to do it until curious frogs come swimming around his fingers. "But no. I don't believe you did."
Harry watches as Mortimer open his palm, waiting for any creature that would rest on it. "You're one of the few that believes me. Ron. . ." He admits but was prolonging to the point where sounded as though he was in pain. "he doesn't."
"Hmm." Mortimer made a sound as if he already knew and pronounced it as it was. "If Ron is willing to believe that you, his best friend, would go behind his back and enter the tournament. That says a lot about a person, don't you think?"
Mortimer was surprised to find the absence of denial in Harry. "I can understand why the other houses would be upset - That I can deal with - But Ron... He was supposed to be my friend. If anyone should believe me, it's him!" He confirmed his own observations.
"You feel betrayed." From the pitch of his voice, you could sense there was sympathy. Yet, Mortimer inwardly laughs to himself as he retrains from shouting 'I told you so.' Mortimer refused to say it, however. Because in Potter's very own heart, he might have lost a friend - Or was at least close to losing one.
Harry did seem as though he couldn't feel any worse. A long breath was exhaled as he nods dejectedly. "It's more than that, if i'm honest." Not daring to say more as the wounds were fresh.
"I imagine it would be." Leering down a small little croaking frog swims under his hand and then on top of his palm, assuming it was a lily pad it was resting on. "A good friend wouldn't abandon you, especially in your time in need."
"No. . . I guess they wouldn't." Harry said, curling into himself a bit more.
Nodding his head slowly, Mortimer lets the critter settle on his skin. "A good friend would stand by you no matter what."
Frowning deeper, he sighed. "Yeah, they would."
"It's a terrible thing when someone close to you does that." Mortimer would carefully lift up his hand with the frog still resting on his hand. "Then again... I did tell you, you're only his friend until you do something he doesn't like. But you were so sure Weasley would always have your back - Best friends till the very end."
"You don't have to say it!" Harry snaps out. The loud sharpness of his voice causes the frog to hop right of Mortimer's now empty hand. "I get it, Ron is not a good friend. . ." He took a silent breath as he stared into the land, his arms tightening around him, thinking it could somehow protect him from these horrid thoughts. "Hermione says I should talk to him and maybe things can go back to the way they were. But why should I? It isn't my fault."
Mortimer simply scoffs before smiling and leering over to the side, sensing that maybe, they were being watched. It only lasts for a few seconds when he goes back to Potter. "Don't be too harsh. Besides, Weasley is blaming you as a defense mechanism."
"Defense mechanism?"
"Yeah. He's projecting his own insecurities on to you. He'll put you down now so he can feel superior later. That's what he wants, to watch as you come back crawling. To feel like he's needed, wanted, better." He chuckles as Harry's eyes begin to widen. "So yes, you could go back and apologize for something you didn't do - and if Weasley is feeling generous enough - will welcome you back with open arms. Hopefully next time, you'll know better than to go against his rule."
Harry moves his head to stare at Mortimer, he was quiet and swallowed hard once he fathomed the seriousness in his face. Mortimer's features were stoic and well calculated. He wasn't even trying to hide it, that alone made it difficult for Harry to respond.
Ron and Hermione were probably the only friends Harry has ever known. The fear of their friendship withering away right in front of him, he felt as though he might fade too.
"I'm not saying it to upset you." Mortimer drawled as he wipes his wet hand on his robe. "I'm only trying to get you to understand the kind of people that are out there. They will want to use you as a way to climb up the latter and others will demean you out of jealousy." Shrugging his shoulders, he lets out a short laugh. "Either way, I get to watch." Sounding amused, but the traces of support were lacing his voice.
From what Mortimer could tell, Harry was struggling further, his mind seemed blank. Eyes fixed on the ground; Harry's head was hanging down before letting out a huff. "Am I just to forget he was ever my friend? Is it really that simple?" His hands grip together with irritation.
"I wouldn't know... my friends can hardly leave me alone for two seconds." He admitted and stuck one finger inside the cold stream.
Mortimer was smiling, he thinks of Ginny and Luna. Theo, Draco and the other's, it was then that made him realize he wasn't so alone. They didn't judge him, nor did they ever think of him as anything else. To them, he was just Mortimer, and he liked it.
He hadn't thought just how lucky he was to have them in his life. It made him feel warm inside. It was strange; he sort of felt... happy?
The warm sensation was cut short by a sharp pain in his chest to hurt.
It was starting to hurt.
A lot.
"Are you ok?" Harry asked when his brows were drawn together. He studies Mortimer further once he places a hand over his chest.
"Yeah." Mortimer answers just before mildly coughing and clearing his throat. "I must've swallowed a bug." Tensing up dangerously, he averts from moving so much.
Convincingly enough for him, a smirk grew on Harry's face as he watched Mortimer desperately try to cough it out.
Playing it off, the pain in chest seemed heavier. The song he normally listens becomes static. Its behavior reminded him of child being scolded.
Mortimer was being scolded.
A shift from preexistent thoughts, a scolding hiss tells him he was an utter fool for believing his friends actually cared about him - Because they didn't. They will never love him, they hate him.
They're using you.
They're going to leave you.
They'll betray you.
Mortimer gazed at the swimming frog and shook his head.
Getting up from the ground, he pats himself down, removing the gravel from his pants. Shortly after looks at Harry, he has yet to move. He didn't seem to want to go back. He couldn't blame him. He'd probably do the same if it were him.
Offering Harry, a hand, he stares and ponders the gesture for a few seconds before finally accepting.
Mortimer said very little. Harry kept moving in a slow pace, taking his time as he undoubtedly didn't want to face the school.
He could very well understand his reluctance, all those times of hiding from the other children that would constantly chase him around and beat him up for no reason, other than for being birthed from Bella. He was frightened of walking alone, nervous to talk to others.
It was after having to deal with the dementors and boggarts, and mixture of everything that happened last year that he decided no more.
He was done being their punching bag.
Potter is getting a taste of what it's like to be the most hated thing on the planet - He could learn a lesson or two about how the real-world works. Part of Mortimer is basking in the sight of his treatment.
However, good as he might feel, Mortimer knew he was no better than the rest. Harry's own friend was willing to ride the band wagon.
It really is a terrible thing when a friend betrays you.
Glancing over to Harry, Mortimer thought for a second.
He'll be the better person.
Sporting a small smile on the corners of his lips, Mortimer leads him back to the castle.
When the time to separate approaches, he stops Harry for a second and speaks. "If you ever do get tired of Granger, you know where to find me. I'm usually alone." Rubbing the back of his neck. "And I promise I won't force you to study."
Laughing, Harry couldn't believe it. Whereas times he might've taken it as insult, Harry could see he was merely trying to brighten the mood.
It gives Harry a reason to pause, mind seemingly elsewhere for a moment, it was unknown to Mortimer what he could possibly be thinking. "Thank you." He gently states while his face had turned soft.
It made Mortimer think this was the first time in days anyone has given him this kind of compassion.
He just hopes Potter doesn't take this as an invitation.