AN: Thanks to anyone who followed and fav and just overall read it. The first few chapters will probably be posted sooner... Don't really have a schedule. Fav/Follow/Review. Thanks for reading~

"...So, wizards are real? Witches?" The curious boy felt like an idiot for asking this but only because it sounded implausible from the beginning. "And you – we," He points a finger. "Live in a world of magic?"

"Precisely." The elder wizard stated without difference.

Having changed back into his wizarding robes – being partly clouded coloured. Dumbledore guided young Mortimer Black through the streets of Diagon Alley.

It was wonderful that the boy was finally showing signs of abatement. Remembering earlier how mortimer had been badly affected by apparition – It caused him to hurl the second he stepped out.

"So you're the Headmaster?" Mortimer began asking. His eyes exploring and observing the hurly-burly cobblestoned alley. His head going at every direction, blindly following the wizard.

The fact that everyone – everything was surrounded in an atmosphere of boisterous commotion; he could hardly take his eyes away.

"I am. But I was not always the Headmaster you know. I had taught for years before I was given the responsibility."

"Really? What did you teach?" He asked casually when his mouth parted slightly at Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Peeping inside the glass window where he could see the variety of species, to then retreating quickly back towards Dumbledore's side.

"Transfiguration." He replied, smiling at the boy's astonishment.

"What's that?" The child mumbled, watching the various shops they were passing by.

"Magic that focuses on alterations of objects." Dumbledore answers basically.

"Ooo..." Mortimer blinked; the first time hearing about the branches of magic.

He begins to stare at a group of witches who were gossiping. Their strange clothing was new to him. Embarrassed, mortimer felt underdressed compared to everyone else. Recalling that he was still in his patient uniform – A plain white shirt and grey joggers - that the institute had provided to its residents.

"Worry not young lad, their attention is mostly towards me." Dumbledore voice was soft and caring when he sensed the boy's hesitation.

"Why is that?" Mortimer blankly stared seemingly at the display of broomsticks.

"It is rare to find me outside of Hogwarts. Fish to saltwater." He chuckled. "You will hardly see me leaving the grounds." He spoke, smirking at the sight of mortimer jumping at an owl who appeared without warning.

"Is that why they won't stop staring?" The distracted boy asked before he strode to a barrel of eels. Dipping his finger, he began poking them.

"Yes."

"Why are we here anyways? I thought you said I'd be going to Hogwarts." Mortimer blurted out just as an employee came to scold the boy.

"Oi! Quit poking my eel's boy!" The man ordered, waving his fist at him.

Dumbledore merely laughed inwardly, shaking his head. "Come, we still have much to discuss." He paused before referring back to his proposition. "Have you given any thought as to what I have offered?"

Mortimer looked up to stare at him, knowing what he was implying – The plan to locate the rest of his family.

Despite how significant, how intriguing it would to be made acquainted, part of him held on to the bitter tone of resentment against his unknown relatives. It wasn't intentional by any means. Yet his attitude, in relation to any of his existing family members, was one he could not withstand. I mean, if they knew I existed, why wouldn't they come for me?

There was also the thoughtful fear of being rejected, outcasted and ignored because he was an unknown anomaly. A stranger who had no right showing their face, disrupting their own personal lives with his unwanted presence.

It was wishful thinking on his part to assume that any blood relative would accept and welcome him into their home.

He wasn't that lucky he supposed.

Moreover, there were questions mortimer found difficult to ask. As to what they were like. How did they look like? Were they wizards too? Would that make him a wizard as well?

What if they were just as crazy as his parents?

Oh please no...

He's had enough catastrophic mishaps. What mortimer really wanted now was a calm and smooth ride. Stability in this odd world he has been brought in. In other words, a normal life.

It was strange. But it certainly explained the bizarre things that happened around him when he was growing up. Odd things like how objects would move on their own. Finding himself in the strangest places whenever he wanted to run away. Setting off fires without any explanation. After these years to know the reason behind it was comforting. To know that mortimer was not at crazy. Or a demon spawn, as Nana would have called him.

Presently speaking, to answer Dumbledore's question. Yes, he had thought about it. And right now, he needed time.

Snapping his neck, he voiced. "What if- What if I am in no rush? T-To meet them..." Mortimer hesitated curtly, turning his head left and right whenever he saw something that caught his eye.

Understandingly, Dumbledore could see where Mortimer's reluctances have derive from. "You fear their denial. Do you believe they will not accept you?"

Mortimer was promptly silent, peering at an unknown shop that was selling books.

The boy's silence was enough of an answer that dumbledore became curious. "Might I ask as to why? Earlier you seemed quite keen get yourself acquainted. Has that changed?"

He shook his head, mortimer didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "No! I-I want to meet them. But I want to know more." He sighed. "You told me that my parents are not good people. You say that my mom is in some sort of magic prison – And then you speak as if my father is a monster, a very bad one..."

He scrunched up his face, struggling to find the proper words. "I'm nervous... If my parents are as bad as you say they are, does that mean my relatives are too? Are they just as bad? Or worse Tell me." He stared sluggishly.

Dumbledore didn't reply, not at first. But merely stopped walking.

Mortimer was confused. Not sure why he did until he lifted his eyebrow when dumbledore's face brightened for no reason.

"I suddenly find myself hankering for an ice-cream cone." Dumbledore said. His eyes gazing at a shop.

"I – What?" Pursing his lips, Mortimer froze.

"Oh alright, a sundae." Dumbledore pouted. Similar to how a child would whenever they admitted to something they didn't want to confess.

He was caught off guard. Rather than question him, Mortimer squinted slightly and faced the direction that dumbledore was ogling at.

It was a small ice-cream shop. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour – it said.

Staring from where dumbledore was, he was dumbfounded but was brought out by his proposal. "Would you care to join me?" He asked softly with a small grin.

Rolling his eyes. Mortimer had no choice but to join the wizard.

In a matter of seconds, the two began crossing the road towards the parlour.

Ding! The two entered the small shop and were greeted by the owner who was currently tending to a young couple.

The place was not as busy so their choice in table wasn't limited. With that, Dumbledore and Mortimer had strolled over to a nearby table and sat there while another employee propped to them.

The child and child-like wizard both ordered. Dumbledore asked for the sundae. Though Mortimer wasn't much for sweets but willfully requested a chocolate cone.

Moments went by without so much as a word.

Calm as it was, Dumbledore appeared to be observing the quiet boy. Mortimer noticed but didn't respond. His only guess was that the professor was studying him. But the more Dumbledore observed the more he could see the uncanny features between father and son.

While Mortimer's father carried himself fairly disciplined - composed and organized. Mortimer was different in nature. Presented in a form one would describe as sloppy and untidy.

They were both reluctant to trust anyone. Aside from themselves of course, they looked at people the same way anyone would look at a rat; disgust.

Sad as it was, they were both wronged by the very people who were suppose to protect them. The young Riddle child was abandoned and cast out by society for being different, becuase of who his mother was. A witch who enslaved a human, tricking him somehow into marrying. Thus creating a being that would be dammed. Sadly it negatively caused his father into becoming something more; something dark. Evil.

The headmaster was concerned for his heir no doubt. Mortimer too was mistreated in a way that could have the same ill effect. The worst has already happened after he found out what the boy had done to his guardian. And if he's learned anything by now, Dumbledore knew he could not give up.

Hoping it was not too late to save the boy, Dumbledore needed to make sure. Needed to know. A sign of reassurance that Mortimer has not fallen too deep.

A reel back to the present, dumbledore began digging in his flavoured creamy dessert once it was served.

Another akward silence settling over the two.

Today was the oddest, most weirdest day of Mortimer's young life. His world dramatically changed in a matter of seconds. What he once believed to be the stuff of fantasy had quickly turned into reality. His new reality.

It was a little overwhelming.

If you were to ask him years ago whether he believed in abracadabra and in the hocus pocus nonsense, Mortimer would have simply walked away and never think of you again.

These types of imaginary thoughts were never considered growing up. The only truth was that of the Lord. An idea that was drilled into his head since being brought up. Anything else was seen as blasphemy and sinful. A ridiculous notion, he would not dare. Not unless he wanted to upset Nana.

With the presence of Albus Dumbledore – The strangest wizard his ever met. Mortimer silently prayed that not all wizards were this unique; ironically speaking.

Minutes of following silence, Mortimer thought now was a good time as any to ask.

Swallowing his frozen treat, mortimer cleared his throat before speaking. "My-my... relatives. What are they like?"

Taking a bite of his sundae, Dumbledore pauses shortly and not long after, places his spoon down. "Yes. I think it is time we find the answer to that question. But first, there are things I would like to inform you of."

Slowly began to unfold. "There is one thing you should understand about our world; or any world for that matter."

Putting his words in order. "There are good people, and there is bad people," He chuckled, eliciting a smile. "But here, we mostly call them muggles."

"In contrast, there are good wizards, just as there are bad wizards. That in mind, the Blacks, your mother's family, are sadly one of the bad ones. That's not to say that they are equally terrible. There have been a few exceptions."

Dumbledore began to explain. "There is a prejudice that has been going on for years. Pure-blood; they call themselves. A belief that carries weight. Families who think themselves superior because they have not married to witches and wizards that were muggle-born. Anyone who is a muggle-born are thought to be 'impure' and should not be permitted to learn magic. It is an ideology that revolves purely on blood status."

Shaking his head slowly, he gave Mortimer an apologetic look. "The Blacks, the name you carry, are the most well-known pure blood supremacist out there."

Suddenly finding himself no longer wanting his cone, Mortimer looked through the glass window of the shop. "I see..."

"Has it always been that way? What about me? Am I expected to follow them – their ways?" Mortimer whispered the last word, rubbing his wrist softly. He was feeling crossed as he waited for an answer.

Silently, Dumbledore studied his empty dessert. "I do not expect you to. Despite what your family believes in, you are a half-blood. Not that it should matter."

Mortimer pauses. If his mother was a pure-blood, did that mean his father was not? Was he a muggle-born? If that were true, why would his mother associate herself with one? Unless, he was a half-blood. The same question remains, why? Dumbledore says she was a high supporter of pure-bloods. So anyone who was not, would never pair herself to.

"My father is a half-blood then?" Mortimer mumbled, flickering his eyes to the wizard.

"Correct. Your father distains muggles. So much so that any relation he had with them was sought to erase from existence. Leading everyone into believing he is pure-blooded. The hatred he has for muggles goes back to his childhood. I do not know the situation in detail. I can however speculate from my personal experiences. Yes - From there, it festered... like rotten fruit."

Setting aside his near melted cone. He placed his hands on the table and began playing with his thumbs. A crack from his neck, he kept calm. "Is that why you're here?"

Mortimer said in a hush tone. "You think I'm going to turn into father? Mother? Go on to hunt down humans and what not? Why? Because I was treated badly – because I ended up hurting one? Is that what you're saying?"

"Am I wrong?" Dumbledore's gentle eyes clashed against Mortimer's dark irises.

His small nostrils flared, disgruntled at the implication. How dare he. Gritting his teeth, mortimer responded. " Yes... you're wrong old man."

Shaking his head, mortimer clenched his fists in anger. "And, for the record, I did not do it because she was a 'muggle'. I did it because she was a bad person. An-And if you think I'm a just as terrible, why did you bring me here? You could have left me there. Why then? Why am I here? Why are you helping me if I'm no good?"

Dumbledore remained quiet. Picking up the spoon, he huffed his breath and began cleaning it with helm of his sleeve.

A short break, dumbledore shook his head lightly. "I do not." He said simply. "I do not hold it against you. Do I think you are you are your father's son? Yes, I do; in appearance. I will concede, you have your mother's temper. But that is all you have in common. History often tends to repeat itself, no matter how much we change it."

Playing with the small spoon, he spun it against the table and continued. "It is more of a concern. I agree, you were wronged and in turn rebelled, by no fault of yours. It does not mean that I approve your method. But if I can spare you from further experiences, similar to this, than I would do it. To really answer your question, no I do not think you will become what your parents have turned into. And no, I do not see you as I see them. I really do want to help you, my dear boy." He put the spoon at rest.

"And should you ever need an ear, know that I will listen." Dumbledore finished.

Mortimer's features softened almost instantly at the unexpected notion. He considered it shortly before tucking it away.

Recollecting his thoughts, mortimer wasn't sure what he wanted to do now. He could still go to his family now that he has an idea of what they might be like. Even so, he didn't really want to.

If they hated everything muggle related, who's to say they won't exile him for being exposed to the environment. After all, he was raised by one, brought in to the culture. Even though he didn't necessarily engage much into it socially. He, at the very least, had a grasp at the concept.

Here's hoping things would be normal for once. But then that would be asking for too much…

"Yes unfortunately things are never simple." Dumbledore observed with a small amount of humor. "You were speaking out loud."

Mortimer's eyes turned heavy-lidded and began laughing in a deadpan tone; cursing himself for being caught. "Right... so now what? What do you think I should do?"

Rubbing his bearded chin, Dumbledore answered cautiously. "What I think should not matter, my boy. What I can do is offer you my opinion and that is to go and see for yourself. And if the worst does indeed happen, we have other options. Please know that I will do everything in my power to help you."

There seemed to be a smile appearing in his face, one could even say there was a hint of appreciation. "Thank you." Mortimer bowed his head slightly.

Dumbledore voice was polite as he softly banged on the table. "Excellent! But before we leave, we must talk about your background."

"What's wrong with my background?" He asked, swinging his small legs back and forth. His eyes dropped to his chocolate cone. It was starting to melt so he took the dessert into his mouth.

"To me, nothing. To others, might give them the wrong impression. You may, of course, inform your family. The rest, however, I must insist that you avoid revealing too much."

"You mean the part about Nana? Or being placed in a loon house?" He questioned, nearly done with his treat.

"Both, if you can manage." Dumbledore finished, during which had arisen from his seat.

Mortimer repeated after him, both thanking the owner before leaving out the door.

Now that they were outside, Mortimer began stretching his small arms. "Where are we going now?"

"We are going to meet a friend that will take you to your relatives." He replied.

"Why can't you do it?" He cocked his head.

"I doubt they will welcome me for a cup of tea." He jeered. "It's easier if we do it my way." Keeping his smile, he offered mortimer his hand.

"Ugh... are we going to do that weird thing again?" Mortimer murmured. Rubbing his head, he was already feeling queasy.

"Your body will adjust I assure you." His skills never failed him before. So, he was quite confident at that.

Taking his hand, Mortimer was completely sucked in.

And just as it began, had soon ended. Like hammer's hitting his head, mortimer dropped on the concrete floor.

"Uugh..." He groaned, holding onto his stomach, afraid that his insides were going to spill out any second now.

"Excellent progress my boy! You've gone without regurgitating." Dumbledore said proudly, waiting for mortimer to recover.

When he finally did, the two crossed dwindling road.

The neighborhood itself was run down and dirty in decline. Mortimer's small nostrils were filled with harsh foul smells of rotten trash. Broken lamp posts and litter on every sidewalk. Each house that appeared had become more and more worse the further you walked.

"They don't live here, do they?" Mortimer prayed that wasn't the case.

"A sight that would be indeed. But no, they do not." He said cheerily as he began to walk, the boy ensuing.

Standing in front of an old gloomy brick house. Mortimer didn't know what to think besides wanting to get away. Dumbledore however seemed rather familiar with it all that he began knocking the door without any doubt.

They only had to wait for a few seconds before the door finally opened to reveal a man that instantly reminded him of his old dead Nana.

Almost as tall and just as authoritative. But whereas nana had wispy grey hairs that were kept neat and clean, this man had straight dark hairs that were in disarray, unwashed for whatever reason.

"Severus, good to see again. I hope all is well." Dumbledore beamed.

"As well as one can be, I suppose." The man named Severus said in a passive strong voice.

Eyeing dumbledore's young attendee, Severus extended the door and invited them in.

"That's the spirit." Mortimer heard Dumbledore say.

Severus rolled his eyes and lead them into a well-furnished living room. Lacking in warmth, it was still an improvement from its previous predecessor.

Settling in to this new setting, Dumbledore began introductions between the two.

"Severus, this is young Mortimer Black. My boy, this is Severus Snape, he is the Potions Master at Hogwarts; a Professor."

"He-Hello Professor." Mortimer greeted, averting Snape's hard look.

"Black." Severus simply acknowledged, turning away.

Mortimer swiftly glimpsed through the home as he followed the two men. Not long after had silently seated himself on a nearby sofa. His legs dangled in the air, unable to touch the floor. While the other two wizards stood up, he retained himself from talking.

"Have you informed the Malfoy's on the recent developments?" A question that was clearly expected.

Severus gave the impression that he understood his meaning and instead, casually went near the fireplace. "I have. I've retained certain information but it was enough to keep them interested. Narcissa in particular, has been keen in meeting her nephew." Staring sharply at Mortimer.

"Wonderful." Dumbledore replied, his expression remaining neutral. "Any questions before you leave my boy?"

Mortimer shifted in his seat. Insecure for the fear that dumbledore will negate him in virtue of his curiosity but reluctantly nodded. "You still haven't told me who my parents are. The times you talked... you make it seem like they're bad, very very bad. I still don't understand."

Receiving an uncomfortable look from both men. Mortimer regretted ever asking. It's as though the question itself was controversial.

Regardless, dumbledore's face was still and without conflict. Whether he told mortimer or not, he would find out sooner or later. The only thing that would change is his perception of dumbledore.

He needed mortimer to trust him. "Do you recall our discussion relating to your father and the issue on blood status?" Bringing it back to mind.

A lot was previously said but this specifically would be a constant reminder. It was an unavoidable subject that often effected both witches and wizards alike.

Knowing this now, mortimer gave a simple nod that encouraged dumbledore to continue. "A war within our world ensued years prior. Muggles, as I already explained, were deemed unworthy of magic, and so went about 'cleansing' the world of their kind - and or - half-bloods. Death Eaters, as they call themselves, were tasked for the job. Which consists of Pure-blood families, with certain exceptions to half-bloods." Dumbledore shared a glimpse at Severus.

"Fortunately, not every pure-blood agreed. And sadly, because of this they were immediately seen as bloodtraitors and therefore, targeted as well."

Severus shuddered inside the more he spoke. The boy who carried the eyes of someone who was sick left the adult feeling inarticulate. "Every course of action they took were conducted under the orders of a powerful wizard named Lord Voldemort."

Observing Severus' face when he flinched at the mere mention, mortimer could tell the name held power. "He did not always go by this name, and very few know the truth. I first knew him as Tom Riddle."

Mortimer's eyes widen. Piecing together what he thought was the last slice of the pie.

It was there that he had finally caught on. And he's never felt any more worse.

Dumbledore would on go on to tell of their atrocious deeds. How they would kidnap and tourture the innocent. Instilling fear to those who were 'unworthy'. And for what? Because they weren't born through magical means? Because they carried 'dirty' blood? Because they thought they were better?

Involving those who didn't ask to be dragged into their mess? All because of blood...

They sounded like a bunch of bullies...

They sounded like crazed fantics...

Crazed fanatics...

Like Nana...

How he loathed her.

Mortimer was disturbed by the actions. But also sad that his parents were the cause of it.

What would people think? How would they react once the world found out that the darkest wizard of all time had a child with the worlds craziest witch?

He shuddered at ths thought. No no no. No one can ever know. He'd be condemed before proving them wrong. Banished because of one name alone.

Grasping at the implications dumbledore was stating, mortimer couldn't resist but lowering his head in shock and horror. "It's not fair..."

A sad smile appeared in the headmaster's sympathetic face. "I know."

"They'll hate me..."

"I know..."

Severus lowered his stare, feeling almost sorry for the boy.

"I won't surive." Mortimer sounded defeated. His body slump down in shame. He wanted to cry at the injustice.

It really wasn't fair.

The public won't see him as Mortimer, a boy who only wants to live a normal life and be a normal kid.

No.

Instead, they will see Mortimer, a boy whose father terrorised both wizards, witches and humans-alike.

There was a voice from the room that surprised Mortimer and Dumbledore.

"Do not let them break you." It was Severus. "It gives them more of a reason to distrust you. Prove them wrong, show them that you are more than what they think. If you give up now than you are only wasting your time here."

"That simple?" Mortimer doubted.

Shaking his head Severus responded. "It never is. But... it makes it all the better when they realise they were wrong."

Listening to the Professor felt somewhat comforting. He didn't know if he was speaking from personal experience or making it up as he went. The words were effective either way and Mortimer found it assuring.

Severus was right though. Everyone needed to know he was nothing like his father. Show them that they were wrong for judging him.

Nodding, Mortimer directed his eyes towards Dumbledore as he watched the two wizards. "I understand... Then that means my mother was one of them? She was - what did you call them? A-A death eater?"

"Indeed, and Bellatrix is his most devoted and most loyal servant." Severus answered for him. It was the first time hearing his mother's name.

Gazing at dumbledore, he gave mortimer a nod, confirming.

Mortimer stayed silent again.

Most certainly, you could feel the tension surrounding the air. The two male adults were blank with their expressions, and though mortimer was empty in his look, he cringed for a few seconds until he was ready to speak again.

"I get it." The desolate emotion on his face was apparent through his deep orbs.

Once his identity was revealed, they will look at him differently.

It was a reaction he was familiar with, both in the muggle world and now, the one he currently finds himself in.

Dumbledore was aware of this as well. Though, there was nothing he could say that would bring any sense of comfort.

Mortimer climbed down from the sofa, recovering from the news, his voice was a joyless heap of guilt affliction. "I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts."

He began to walk away. "Mortimer." Dumbledore called.

Turning when his name was called. The headmaster spoke softly, offering encouraging words. "As Severus has said. Do not let it shape who you become. That decision solely relies on you, and you alone. You make your own path."

Mortimer stood silent but eventually gave a single nod.

"Do not worry. I will be sure to stop by and see how you've settled once the term begins. For now, please take care of yourself and remember, should you need assistance. Do not hesitate to ask Severus. Any messages you give will go directly to me." Smiling heartily, Dumbledore made his way to the door.

"Severus, might I have a word with you before you depart?" He requested gently.

"Of course." Giving mortimer a quick glance, he followed dumbledore before the two disappeared in the doorway.

Mortimer was left alone and for the most part, explored the living room. Knowing he shouldn't walk around in place that isn't his, he was curious to see the home of another wizard. He expected to find mind-boggling, spine-tingling, dynamic-infusing possessions only a wizard would carry.

Disappointed, there was nothing that would indicate that this man was a wizard. Boring, dull furniture and a few frames of old pictures. Maybe he has an underground dungeon...

With his appearance, there wasn't an ounce of doubt in his mind.

"Black." Accenting his name with a sharp key, Severus called out to the boy standing in front of a seemingly small bookcase. "If you are quite done being a meddlesome little imp, perhaps we should get a move on."

"Right - sorry Sir." Mortimer rued. It was a natural response; it was the same way he would talk to his nana. The difference is that Severus wasn't her.

Ignoring the apology, Severus gestured him to follow. Ending up near the fireplace, mortimer watch as he grabbed a handful of what looked to be powder.

Knitting his brows, Severus casted on last look on mortimer before he instructively told him that they would be using Floo powder by means of transportation.

After a series of unwanted questions, spanning over a course of relentless sneers as answers. Mortimer was taken aback when the flames turned instantly green.

"Go on." Severus pressed impatiently, towering over him.

"Won't I burn?" Part him didn't want to know, and taking in account towards the ominous assertion Severus was currently displaying, Mortimer shivered in fear.

"Why don't we find out." He voiced dryly. Mortimer was rather iffy on the amount of sarcasm that was aimed.

Maintaining a composed state, he swallowed hard and bravely entered the green blaze. Before he knew what was happening the emerald flames encased the wide-eyed boy, transporting him to a disclosed location.