AN: Hello, hope everyone is doing okay. Thanks again to the lovely Foxtrot1702 n' Naruhina1519 for keeping me going. Oh and if you're worried about romance, that probably won't be until waaaaay later. Even then, I wouldn't really know who to pick. *shrugs* Thanks again for all those who cared enough to give it a read. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISM IS WELCOMEDFav/Follow/Review
A loud squeal of terror ranged throughout the schools training grounds. Screams of muffled wails could be heard in the area. The students, both Gryffindor and Slytherins, watching. Some stared in shock, concerned for the fellow victim. Others reacted in laughter, mockingly pointing at his misfortune.
The flying instructor, Madam Hooch, puts in her best effort to control both Longbottom and the loud crowd of screaming children. Yelling at Neville, she commands him to cease this nonsense.
While this is all happening, Mortimer can be seen in the background. Currently, digging inside his ear. He notices the beautiful weather here today.
The kid, Neville, in a jittery state must of gotten under way before given the signal to do so. Which resulted in him shooting off the ground and up towards the skies. The higher he got, the more everyone started to panic.
"Stop it! Let go of the broom boy!" Madam Hooch yells out.
He must of heard. With no strength left in the boy, Neville poorly lets go. In turn resulted in him taking one big fall onto hard grassy surface.
Everyone sprints and gathers around him while Madam Hooch inspects him for any injuries.
"All right everyone shows over." Helping neville up. "I'll be taking Longbottom – And I want no more larking about! Understood?" Hooch bossed the students.
Nodding their heads, everyone watches the teacher and student leaving the grounds. The minute they disappeared from view, some of the slytherin children began to laugh. Not so much the gryffindors who merely glared in anger.
Mortimer though, calmly walks away. He takes a few paces before spotting something glowing. Walking towards it, he stops to bend down. Picking it up, mortimer realises it was a ball. Inspecting it further, the ball glows in a bright red colour.
"Hey look! Longbottom's dropped his rememberball!" Draco says out loud. Snatching it from Mortimer's hand, he lifts his arm, showing it to the class like some kind of trophy.
"Give it back Malfoy!" Yelled Potter. Both of his hands clutched together.
Here we go… Thought Mortimer.
The two begin barking at each other. Draco provoking Harry, had stupidly decided to throw it skywards. And through some heroic impulse, Harry ran for the ball. He picks up his broom and flew above. And with great speed, was able to catch it in his palm.
Impressive as it was, Mortimer refused to involve himself in his cousins antics, let alone give potter any attention.
Distancing away from the group of excited students, Mortimer settles in the back. Casually sitting down onto the greensward. He digs inside his pocket to take out his own non-glowy ball.
Reflecting, Mortimer has carefully pondered about his decisions so far. Maybe he should've listened to Aunt Cissy.
Being here now - The whole private tutoring thing didn't sound like a bad idea...
For quite sometime, he's been having these sudden headaches. Ones he could not explain. They came and went. The excuses he came up with were that of stress. But it wasn't just the headaches. There was also the random episodes of nosebleeds he would have. It was increasingly mortifying when it happened it front of class, potion's to be exact.
All eyes were on him that day.
It quickly angered mortimer that he basically walked out of the class. When he later grasped at what he's done, mortimer dreadfully believed detention was well underway. Though, fortunately it never did and Professor Snape only gave him a warning. One warning was enough to put him into obedience. Not just him of course, the whole school knew better than to upset the Potion Master.
There was rarely a moment of peace, constantly doubting his own sanity. Believing he's gone paranoid, he feels like he's being frequently watched by some unknown form.
When he wasn't going through mental derangement, he was at constant odds with Draco. He promised Narcissa to watch Draco, and he could see why. The boy lacked manners. He is never satisfied, he just takes takes and takes. If things go sour, it's always 'father will hear about this' or 'I'll show you' shenanigans. Empty threats were a constant thing it became predictable.
Witnessing his cousin's atrocious behavior, Mortimer can only stand back in silence. Watch as Draco bully those he believes are unworthy. Mortimer hates it.
That's not to forget the other students he has to deal with. The four houses spoke while mortimer listens. Behind his back they say things. Rumors – Mortimer is recruiting students to join the next generation of death eaters. He 'supposedly' knows dark spells that can terrify a ghost into hiding, harming small animals for fun…
Anytime someone falls or trips, Mortimer is the one responsible.
For some reason the world thought he was the obvious choice. A source to blame for every misfortune that involved a first year.
Giving his ball a squeeze, he stares down.
Lacking in the friends department, mortimer mostly speaks to Theo these days. After his little confrontation in the dungeons, mortimer came to the unfortunate conclusion that theo was trapped. Trapped within his own home, similar to how mortimer once was.
Nott had confided in him, ranting about how much he despises his own father. He blames him for a lot of things. One of those being the death of his own mother. A big accusation, theo was very confident. He speaks of her in the highest regards. A source of happiness, quickly stripped away from the man he calls his father.
The disappearance of his mother left Theo feeling a splurge of many emotions; too many to list. And while Nott seemed to trust him, mortimer did not. At least not enough to divulge into more sensitive, serious topics.
"Potter is sure to get expelled now!" Draco cheered.
Mortimer looks up at him, seeming to have missed the show. Then, to returning to his own thoughts, he looks away again before answering. "We're talking about the boy-who-lived, right?"
Draco nods, nearly too happily.
"Then they are most likely to reward him for it, don't you think?" Mortimer says, giving a little smile, aware that it will further annoy Draco.
"Pfft." Draco rolls his eyes. "There's only so much he can get away with." A short break. "I'll have to ask father about this."
He sighed, fiddling the ball with his fingers.
SNAP! Mortimer watches Draco as he reacts; wincing at the sound of his neck bone. "What?"
"Why do you do that?" He points weakly.
"Do what?"
" That – that thing with your neck. It's weird." Draco was crude, not caring how it sounded.
A cynical grin threatened the corners of his lips. "Is it? I mean – It makes getting rid of the bodies easier."
"Wh-What?!"
"Yeah… eases the muscles for when you know…"
"I-I don't think I want to." Draco utters, straightening his posture, unsure what to do next.
Needless to say, the rest of class went quiet. Effortless, no further instances occurred.
Granted, Mortimer fell off his broom a number of times. However, he wasn't alone. The Granger girl could barely hold her own. Weasley as well, even so, quickly got the hang of it and was able to fly a few feet higher than anyone. Draco struggled a lot less than most of the students; it was mainly due to the amount of experience he had with the broom.
After class was over, Draco had insisted they follow Potter. He wanted to see the glorifying look on his face as the chosen one is kicked to the curb. Mortimer had little interest in his cousin's foolery. Making up an excuse, he tells draco that he promised theo he'd meet him in the common room. Draco didn't fight him, but instead took his two minions.
Eventually, Mortimer found himself walking the inside of the poorly lit corridors.
"Mortimer wait up!" A voice hailed from a distance.
Turn his head, Mortimer stops.
Theo treads rapidly until he reaches him. Together they walk alongside. "Hey – I Heard about Potter."
"By draco no doubt."
"Yeah." Theo chuckles. "You think it's true?"
"No." Mortimer's eyes passing over a few visible ghosts.
An awkward moment of silence.
"Where you heading now?" Nott watches him from the corners of his eyes.
"Common room." He answers dimly.
"Aren't you heading for dinner?"
Talk about déjà vu.
His patients wearing thin, he says faintly. "Not hungry."
Theo stops his tracks, only for mortimer to do the same.
Before he could ask, theo beats him to it. "C'mon Black, I know you don't do well in crowds but you could at least put in a little effort."
His expression twisting into something unreadable. "Easy for you say. Most kids don't stare and give you looks that say 'Hey! I'm about to murder you.'" Mortimer mocks.
"I think you're overselling it." Theo smirks. "Besides, it's not like you're the only one with death eater parents."
"Your right. Mine's happens to be the worse." Rolling his eyes. "But they don't care. Long as I'm here, they'll only see me as no-good spawn."
"We can't appear to be weak. If the other houses find out, they'll make our lives a living hell. We'd be condemned from our own." Theo hisses. He seems almost worried as he thinks of the consequences should they show vulnerability.
Mortimer sees the sudden change in his face. He couldn't help but feel bad for Nott and the other slytherins. They were groomed into living a certain life style that required precise concealment. Weakness wasn't allowed and sympathy did not exist.
He stays quiet for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. Theo was right. "Stupid… But I understand."
The two boys said no more and strolled silently up the hallway. The moving staircase made a right turn that would lead them downstairs. Mortimer clenches his hand inside his pocket, pressing the ball he had earlier. In attempt to reduce his heartbeat, increasingly so, his nerves were acting up again.
There was no explanation.
Admittedly, mortimer was a lonesome sort. An introverted boy, he still has a hard time conversing. Especially now that no one wants to have anything to do with him. His confidence has gone lower since then.
They came into an intersection, taking a right, they then decided to turn left. Not long after, they took three left turns that led them into a long hall until they spotted the doors into the great hall.
Once they entered, the two put on their masks. Coolly paced near the slytherin table. Dinner was already served and mostly everyone was eating.
"Oh – Mortimer I saved you a seat." It was Tracey. She was sitting next to Daphne who gave a once-overlook.
"Very kind of you Tracey, Thank you." Mortimer moves in to sit next her.
Pansy suddenly appeared to panic. "If I had known you'd be here today, I would have saved you a seat too!" she shouts.
"Could've saved me one." Spoke Theodore, taking a seat across from Mortimer.
Pansy scoffs. Mortimer ignores the banter, a look of disgust spreads as he watches Crabbe gobbling down a full plate of mash potatoes. Blaise began to laugh when Theo made a comment about pansy's lack of tact, coming across desperate and sad. Pansy in turn, threw a pea at him.
Tracey and Daphne began conversing about their autumn wardrobe and what shoes would match along.
Mortimer smiled coyly. Facing down at his plate, he nibbles down a bread roll before taking a spoonful of hot soup.
Noting what he saw, it was relieving.
They simulated actual children. Normal, regular, carefree children…
The way Goyle burped, the girls were easily repulsed, while some of the boys cheered. The older students laughed.
"At it boy!" Shouted Flint from the far right.
"I heard you're very good in charms." A whispery voice. Mortimer turns his head to see Tracy.
Lowering his chin, he akwardly says. "I'm alright… I guess."
"Daphne and I are having issues – We were wondering if you'd be interested in tutoring us." Tracey smiles for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear.
A weary mortimer rubbed a hand behind his neck. "I don't think I'd be a good teacher. You're better off asking someone else."
"It doesn't even have to be tutoring - More like a study group! Pretty Please – I can't afford to fail when I've barely started." She almost pleads.
He mutters, embarrassed, he sets his napkin down. "I'll think about…"
Tracey's eyes widened, hardly unable to contain a smile. "Great!"
Minutes of uninterrupted chatter, it took Mortimer a while to notice something was amiss. It was friendly, nearly too natural, even for the slytherins. Gazing left and right he finally asks himself.
Where is Draco?
Scanning the area, he couldn't find him.
"Has anyone seen Draco?" Asks Mortimer.
Blaise shrugs. "Dunno, I got here a few minutes before you did."
A slight pause, he looks at Crabbe then to Goyle, both shaking their heads. A dire eye on Theo, still no answer.
"Oi! Black." If mortimer remembered his name correctly, it was Adrian Pucey. "If I were you. I'd get your cousin out of here before he costs us points." He nearly growls, pointing behind him.
There he spots Draco, who was standing in front of Potter and his two other friends. Piss… Mortimer curses as he gets up from his seat. On cue, Crabbe and Goyle follow suite.
Mortimer was about to tell them to stay back yet the hateful expression Potter was giving Draco. He knew if he did not act quickly, Draco was about to get into a heap of trouble.
The redhead boy Weasley leans in fowards and says something to Potter and Granger. Draco replies and turns his head towards the Black child. "I choose Mortimer."
Mortimer stops.
They all look at him. Granger stays quiet. Almost in fear, Weasley gulps down and says. "Fine! Name the time and place."
Draco grinned, wide enough to be visible. "Trophy room, midnight."
Walking away from the griffindors, Draco leaves; in addition of his goons. A sardonic smile overpowered his face. Mortimer decided to do the same, his eyes landed on the trio one last time.
An angry stare from the chosen one, Mortimer did not need to guess that Draco has effortlessly made him upset. His friends were no help either. The ginger kid could've stopped it from escalating. Instead, encouraged him to take the bait.
"Don't." Mortimer mildly says, advising Harry, he hopes he'll listen.
Returning back into the pit of snakes. A minute hasn't passed and already Draco began regaling them about Potter.
" – They'll be waiting till dawn and I'll be well rested by then." Draco laughs, the rest of his group join in.
He slumps down hard on the table. "What did you do?" Interrogated Mortimer.
His head turns at the question. "I challenged Potter to a wizard's duel."
Snarling in frustration, mortimer nearly shouted. Mortimer didn't understand. The boy has everything – could have anything, he'd need only ask. "What does this have to do with me?"
Draco offered a short chuckle, as if trying to repress a loud barking of laughter. "I told them you'd be my second." Catching Mortimer's knitted brow's, Draco rolls his eyes. "Oh come of it, I'm not actually going to duel Potter, he's beneath me."
A hard look was present in his sharp irises, dangerous fingers underneath the table, careful not to draw attention. "Are you that bored with your life you have to go around making everyone else's miserable? What's is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? Ever since you got here you've been acting like a real damp. I thought having you here would make the school year better – I was wrong. Being near you has only put me in a foul mood."
No one else has the courage to speak up, not even Theo. Helplessly they watch as the heir's glare at the other. It was an uncomfortable situation for all, though thankfully the display was not grand enough to bring in the attention; just those who were near.
Standing straight upwards, plates and utensils clanked against one another, the table partly vibrates. The whole slytherin table turn their heads. "Then allow me to relieve you from further anguish Almighty Malfoy." Mortimer sarcastically jabbed at the young heir before leaving the great hall.
A small gathering of heads had collected around the area. The gryffindors, specifically Harry, did not yet dare to look away as Mortimer continued to stomp away; fuming. They weren't able to hear the conversation. However, it was not required. The expressions, Malfoy and Black had thrown was enough to know that they were not on good terms.
Mortimer scurried past the chatting portraits, the flabby orb compressed harshly in his hand, resisting the need to chuck down at any unfortunate soul wondering around.
Twisting his neck, unsuccessful at releasing the stiff muscle.
Surely, Draco will now write to his father about todays occurrence. He will no doubt share in great detail how Mortimer was the aggressor. While making himself look like the victim, mortimer was prepared when the time comes. An unconcerning matter, what the elder Malfoy would say held no weight in his mind. What worried him more was Aunt Cissy. Despite her biased flaws, he grew to care for her.
Mortimer closes his eyes, clearly bothered, but covers it with a helpless sigh. He rubs his temple, the headache starts making it's presence known. It was tiresome and what was left to do now was head back to his room.
The following weeks have been rather hectic.
Draco still hasn't said a word to him.
After their little spat, Draco pretended like he didn't even exist. Fine by him, Mortimer didn't need him. He didn't need anyone. Words he constantly lived by, he did his best to make the most of it.
The other slytherins were divided, amongst their little group. Nobody would dare upset Draco, least they wanted his father to hear about this. Mortimer on the other hand, had all but left him alone, with the exception of Theo, majority of the children were afraid of him.
Aunt Cissy did in fact ended up writing him a letter. Describing her concerns about her son. While she knows it isn't Mortimer's fault, she can't help but ask him to be the mature one. To approach his cousin, apologize for upsetting him. That way things can go back to normal and they can be family once more. If there was such a thing that exsisted.
How is that even fair? Why should he apologize? For doing what he thought was right? It just goes to show you how much of a person Narcissa can be when it comes to her son. Mortimer hasn't responded, he couldn't. Not when he was still mad at Draco.
Messing with his hair, Mortimer was walking in the first-floor corridor, the direction that led to the library. Mortimer was getting more familiar with the school. He was fairly confident on finding his classes, areas he's never seen before and finding quiet spots, away from public view.
A moment of solace, he strolled near the many rows of endless bookshelves. The various smells that greeted him made him warm inside, close to relaxing.
It was late afternoon and he had just finished herbology classes. Wanting to get a head start, he decided to kickoff with history of magic; a class that put many to sleep.
There was an empty table on the left side of the library, near the middle. Rectangular shaped, it held six chairs, intended for a group. Mortimer plopped down his books and took out various pieces of parchment. One thing that peeved him was that students weren't allowed to use regular pens, instead use quills that were outdated in time. Use ink bottles that quickly became messy if you weren't careful.
Staring blankly at his liquid ink, he thought about what Dumbledore had said in their last encounter; that fact that he believed mortimer was not prepared. Prepared for what? A question that required thought. Unfortunately most of the information he got on the subject came from the Malfoy Library. If he tried asking Madam Pince, he was highly sure she would deny his request, as first-years weren't allowed.
Going back to what the headmaster has said. Mortimer contemplated for a while. He isn't prepared… What does it mean? Was he not prepare for it in a physical aspect? Or did he think mortimer was mentally unequipped to handle the incoming attacks of the mind – There was no telling.
A big concern for him was having an emotional outburst in front of an audience. He doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. People by nature were curious creatures. The things they do to disentangle questions, involve themselves in things that didn't concern them. It irritated him to know how far they will go. Poking their heads out, peeping, studying him until they get the full picture.
The children here were already speculating on his birth father. Why any man would want a child with the crazy witch – They thought him mad. The popular guess at the moment was of course, a death eater. He would have to be pureblood, maybe Mortimer was an illegitimate child of one the families?
Mortimer supposed this was a good thing in itself; keep them guessing – Half-bloods were struggling enough as it is – There was no need to add more fire to the already sizable flame. He was in no mood for Theo, or the other slytherins, to question him on his parentage.
Sitting alone, he starts writing his essay. Nearly an hour of paragraphs, he glances at his notes ever so often. Only to later move on to other subjects, like potions.
From time to time, mortimer would pull out his ball, giving it a few squeezes before releasing it. Lifting his head, mortimer notices the various pumpkins placed all around the library.
Day of dead… Or what children call it, halloween. He fidgets slightly, he was worried. If spirits can walk amongst the living, does that mean the possibility of encountering his Nana was a plus? God, he hoped not. The last thing he wanted to see was the old bat showing her grotesque figure around the school.
Nana always believed the day to be unholy, wicked and unsavoury. Anyone who celebrates the dead were nothing but satan loving, worshiping stooges who deserved to burn in hell. Or at least that's what Nana said.
"Hey Morty~" His name dragged through the lips of an unwelcoming girl.
Moments solitary bliss, gone in an instant. Lifting his head. He glares up to see Lavender. "Go away."
"Aw, don't be like that. I came to see how you were doing. You haven't spoken to me since you got sorted. I hope we can still be friends. I think you'd make a great friend. You're smart, laid-back, sharp and just so adorable." She nearly gushes over, clasping her hands together.
Mortimer's frown deepened, shoving back his ball back into his pocket. "I don't want to be your friend."
A small huff, "You can't say that. You haven't given me a chance." Lavender said. A temporary break, a tactful wide smile emerges. "Unless you want something more…"
Mortimer's once big eyes became more like slits in anger, his face, beet red. "Back off Brown. I'm not interested."
He expected his blunt response to convince the girl to leave him alone. If anything, it encouraged her to take one of the open chairs that were available. "That's ok, you wouldn't want to let your other friends know your with a gryffindor. It's cute. Think about it! Two people – separated by class. A house known for their rivalries. An innocent girl, a dangerous boy. A forbidden love… How exciting!"
"Dangerous?" Out of everything she said, mortimer only caught on to that single world. "They think I'm dangerous?"
Nodding her head, Lavender was getting closer. She lightly says. "That's what ever house is saying. They say you were sent here to finish off the muggleborns – because of what they did to your mother. That when the time comes, all purebloods will rise again, to take back their place. And that blood traitors, along with muggles will meet their end."
Mortimer scarcely unable to hear what he was hearing. He felt frozen, words hit him like a bucket of cold water. He starts backing away from his seat to get up. Grabbing his supplies, he holds them close to his chest.
He tries calming himself, thinking of a way to get of the situation. "I-I should go now…"
The horror in his eyes succeeded in making Lavender regret spilling the beans. And seeing what it had done to him, she immediately panics. "No wait! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Getting up from her own seat.
Mortimer simply shakes his head. "No, it's fine. It's not the first time… I-I've heard it. But I thought maybe it was all in my head – You telling me only confirms things." He looks away.
Further strained, Lavender was trying her best to reach him. "I don't think you're a bad."
He almost laughs at that. "Oh yeah? You're the first then."
"It's true." She tell him, raising her head high, confident. "I've seen it. You're not like Draco. Spoiled and mean." She frowns, struggling. "You don't bother anyone. An-And you were nice enough to buy me pastries." She began fiddling with her finger. "You're not a bad person. I know it."
"You know it?" He doesn't believe her. "How can you be sure?"
"I just do."
In those small moments. Mortimer peered at Lavender, considering her, he wondered if there was any truth in there. But then, realising that part of him wanted to believe her. Her rigid, anxious profile seem to relax her once mortimer didn't flat out call her a liar. An invoice aura of appreciation washes over the two.
"You haven't told me to shove off." She giggles. "So that helps." Catching a glimpse, she could see a tiny smile forming in his face.
This time, Lavender didn't try and stop him as he walks away.
Chipped leaves crunch beneath his small shoes. Mortimer didn't bother to look at the time. Only did he stop to put away his supplies, then to go back into the out doors.
Dusk had already settled over the school, the sky giving way to the dusky hues. Clouds covering majority of space, the lavishing wind blowing forth ruddy leaves that collided with the turfy land. It was chilly, but perfect. Beneath the breezy airs, the small lone figure moves, bopping to distance it from the castle.
Mortimer mended his way up the high arch of a desolated hill. He stands in the middle of the grass mound for sometime. His lungs filled cool air, his skin trembles slightly.
Staring into nothingness, muted, cotemplative. It was plain to see he was having a hard time. His other world was a lot simpler than this. Carefree, there was no worry living amongst the muggles. He could tell other children his parent's name and they would have easily pay no mind. Walk without the target behind his back as he roams around untroubled. There was no need to pretend, to put on a fake mask and preform in front of the crowd.
Looking back now, had it not been for Dumbledore, he'd still be in the instituation for the troubled youth. Living day by day, doing the same thing, over and over and over again...
Blinking hard, offhand, descends down onto the lawn floor. Putting his arms behind his head, he uses his hands for support.
There was no life he craved more than one where is loved. It isn't fair. Mortimer would never know that feeling so as long as he is here. He will always be a reminder of a terrible witch who did terrible things; even in death.
Children can be so ungrateful. Hearing students nearly everyday whine that their parent's didn't get them this - Or denied them that. That their parent's are bad guys for not letting them do what they want. They should be happy that there is someone out there in this mad world that not only cares for you, but would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means upsetting them.
Then again, what does he know?
He only recently found out he had any and well, their actions speak for themselves. The things he read and stories from his aunt and uncle, Mortimer knew they weren't the nurturing type. No motherly instinct coming from sweet Bella. Definately not a father figure, Tom, he was pratically a void amongst wizarding society.
Mortimer was bred for the sake of tradition - Or so he thinks. That the mighty Dark Lord needed an heir of some kind. To finish his life's work; getting rid of the rodents that plague the wizarding world.
A small amount of him missed being cooped up in that building. Longingly remembering his characterless dry white room, along with his kooky roomate. Missed hearing the loud children in the background, the ones who didn't know when to stop. The routine of knowing what follows next only puts mortimer in a fouler mood when he realises he wasn't as blind there as he is here.
Life was sure simpler back then.
He closes his eyes.
Before he knows it, a trail of thought appears. It invites him to take a stroll. A foolish mistake, Mortimer will come to regret later.
Devil! Devil! A spawn, scourge of Evil! Impertinent, Impudent unholy demon – Malefic. A witch! You are of evil wickedness!" Shouts of rage and alarm that boomed inside the old shabby dark house.
"Please Nana! I – "
SMACK!
"Shut your mouth foul sadist!" Shrieks the old women in grey. "You dare speak villain? I should have finished you when I had the chance. But as God's faithful servant I thought I absolve you, save you from eternal fire."
Small hands quickly going towards his reddening cheek.
A wrinkled face, dark brown eyes that were dark with infinite rage. Expressing nothing but utter disgust. Her voice was very loud, there was no doubt she was being heard.
Not long ago, the child made the mistake of thinking he was alone. Alone that he didn't think there would be any one to witness as he lifts up a ball.
Without touching it.
"I realise my mistake…" Distant, hollow and empty. There was nothing but eerie tones as she hovers over the frightened child.
Once raged, quickly turned into dark glint. It was something the child has never seen before.
And it was unsettling.
The child wrenched away from the elder woman he calls Nana. Still holding his wounded cheek, he uses his other arm to move, his legs savagely dragging through the hard wooded floor. He shudders over the pain as he tries to leave.
Predatory movements the closer she got. Her voice had gone quiet, frightfully so it took every rational thoughts; he was completely paralysed to speak, to move, to do anything.
"I am going to correct that now…"
His eyes abruptly open.
Mortimer looks around, breathing heavily. He closes his eyes, sitting there. He wasn't shaking this time, thankfully, but he notes the small injury in his hands. Thin light puncture wounds from clenching his hands too hard were noticeable.
A vicious expel on his face was grim at his own stupidity. Before mortimer could utter a curse, a soft wind blows, covering him with his own hair.
It's over. Just breathe…
Opening his eyes, sweet bitter relief as the vision of the outside grounds appear.
It was late.
There was no dusk. Skies has turned completely dark and the air was still. The sounds of bugs and moving trees surrounded the lands. Another breeze of wind offers mortimer a gesture far more compassionate. As a way to cheer him up perhaps? He didn't bother to answer.
Mortimer suppose it was time to go back to the castle.
He raises a brow, settling back inside the warm lit hall. There were decorations all around, ghost parading, laughing in celebration. Today was their day and they made sure everyone knew it.
The endless blathering talks of children filling his ears that came from the great hall. The feast had already begun. You have to be blind not to notice. The many mountains of foods and jugs of drinks expanded across tables. You didn't need to move, the edible goodies were only at arms length and didn't require getting up.
Mortimer shifts his neck, his thumbs idly twiddling the ball as he watches tardy students entering the celebratory gathering.
He wasn't hungry but instead decided to turn in for the night. There was no point in showing his face, he was certain nobody would miss him.
The boy himself stood there for a good minute before turning around, descending downstairs into the dungeons.
His attention was elsewhere. Damn that old woman for making him act this way. He couldn't bring himself to believe he was a hopeless case, one that was full of darkness and evil, everything that Nana had once called him.
Lavender's voice echoed in his head. A dangerous boy. They called him – What they actually think, believe… They think him sinister and evil. It took power not to scream and shout in anger.
He stops and begins holding onto the gravelled wall for support. His eyes were fixated on the floor, looking to express his emotions. He wasn't organised enough to say them. A shaky sigh, mortimer proceeds to walk straight. With each step he could see the ruins of his past life, echoes of every word that was thrown at him. The torment he felt made his chest grow in pain, returning to haunt him on this special day.
He remembers.
Remembers it all.
An unforeseeable outcome due to his lack of awareness.
Turning the corner, Mortimer collided with another figure, one smaller than his. The impact it had left both of them off balance causing them to fall straight onto the floor.
Not again!
A small groan from his opposite. Rubbing her head, the girl soothes where she was knocked. "Ow…"
Mortimer's chest hurt, but this time, it was physical. "Ah- bugger that hurt." Rubbing his own sore.
Lifting his chin, He sees that it was Hermione.
She looks like she has been crying. Her reddish eyes and rosy nose gave way the day she had.
"Are you ok?" He asks. Getting up, he helps Granger from the floor.
She sniffs in response. "Ye-Yeah." Pushing down her bushy hair, she accept the assistance. "Thanks."
"Were you crying?"
"No!" Hermione glowered, forging a defensive voice. "I wasn't – Am – I mean I am not crying."
He doesn't believe her, then again, it wasn't his business so he shrugs it off. The young syltherin cautioned. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make fun of you."
A silent pause. "Why aren't you at the feast?" Changing the topic, she asks while composing herself.
Mortimer shrugs his shoulders. "I wasn't hungry." A small break lingers before. "Why aren't you there?" Questioning the same thought.
She doesn't respond.
Mortimer nodded before letting out a sigh. "It's fine. You don't need to tell me. I'll be going now."
He begins to distance himself from her. Before he can fully dissolve, she says. "Wait – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. That was rude."
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he doesn't look at her but shakes his head. "It's none of my business. I was concerned that's all."
Hermione studies him, long enough that to find her voice again. "Thank you again." She gives him a small smile. Face softening in appreciation.
As much as mortimer enjoyed the gratitude, he was nonchalant about it. His mood lately spiraled downwards, in general, made him weary with vigilance. "Right… Goodnight then."
Just then, an animal-like sound develops in the halls. It was a strange growl. They share a look before their eyes widen back at the heavy thumbing. They couldn't make out what they were seeing. Stealthy they head for the noise. It takes the two a moment to realise. The heavily dim light of the dungeon made it impossible to see anything.
A chill settling into his bones as the unknown figure became bigger and bigger. Plodding near the two.
"Is that – " Her voice quick, filled with dread she couldn't finish.
"A goblin…" He says for her.
A goblin the size of a truck, No – A house! A bloody house! It's gigantic hand was a holding a cumbersome wooden, crooked, club. Big enough to crush them. It's large feet judders when it takes slothful steps. It's distinct feature that stood out was it's overly pea-sized head – That was now turning over their direction.
Thankfully, it hasn't spotted them.
Another growl across the air, mortimer felt his tiny hairs prickle, goosebumps spreading over his skin. "We need to hide."
Backing away from the horrid noise, they go to the nearest door.
The girls' washroom!
They rapidly run inside. His limbs feeling stiff, he can't afford to lose it now. Covering his emotions he refused to let it show, last thing he wanted was to scare her more.
"Do you think it knows we're here?" She moans, putting a shaky hand on her chest.
"I don't know." A hard breath, he purses his lips together. "We need to be quiet."
They could hear the noises getting louder. It's footsteps vibrating, it drew closer.
Mortimer gripped Hermione's arm. "Get in the stalls! Quickly."
Nodding, she follows his lead.
Both began to panic, rushing into one of the stalls. They huddle together when it became disturbingly silent. It was too quiet. Hermione considers a plan for a moment, clearly trying to get a hold of herself. The anxious expression that clouded Mortimer's face seemed real enough to let her know this was real. That she isn't imagining at all.
Discomforting silence continues, on what felt like days, follows. They couldn't think. Drowning in their own fear, Hermione and Mortimer regard in a deadlock stare of the stall door. Silently waiting, not daring to even breath.
Chewing her lip, she stares patiently in fear, reaching down with a free hand, she holds onto his shoulder. Thinking in might ease her nerves, to know she wasn't alone in this mess.
Despite being scared, he tells himself that it will be alright. That a teacher will notice that there are children missing. When they do, they'll go around and search the school. Eventually, Mortimer and Hermione will be found and saved from the terrible troll –
Then, Hermione screams.
Chaos is let loose.
Without warning, the barrier keeping them safe splinters into bits and pieces.
They throw themselves onto the patterned tiles, to avoid being hit. His eyes shut close and opened wide. The children begin to cough from the fallen dusk. Hermione sounded like she was suffering more than him.
Quick thinking, he brings her closer to him. Like a tight hug, he holds her. Mortimer takes off his robes, putting it over Hermione's body, he attempts to shield her from the wooden debris of splinters coming down.
"Move!" He yells out.
Together they start hauling, stall after stall, that were rapidly being destroyed with heavy brute force. She screams again as Mortimer uses his arm to protect her head. They could only lay there and slide helplessly when the creature lets out an angry roar.
There were no other options. Forced leave the once large covered booths, he takes off the robe and brings her towards the sinks.
The troll tries picking up the heavy club.
"Where's your wand?" She shouts. The troll's breathing taking over majority of the volume.
"I left it in my room!" He answers, his eyes never leaving the creature.
Mortimer and Hermione skittered back once the troll manages to pick up his weapon again.
"I…I don't want to die…" Hermione implores the troll but is ignored in return.
The terrible troll bowels, drool seeping out of his foul mouth. His yellow, jagged teeth were exposed with eyes fierce watching them disperse like tiny roaches.
He swings again.
Mortimer's eyes drew big and wide. Grasping the fact that it was aiming at her, he watches as she freezes, shrieking in pure dreaded fear.
Without hesitation, he pushes her away. Falling to the ground and writhing from sudden pain. He suddenly hears other voices, one's that don't belong to either children, nor the troll.
"Hermione!" Two boys shouted.
The troll turns around. His new found prey was now targeted.
By now, Harry and Ron arrive in time to stop it from continually trying to pummel them that mortimer used this opportunity to lean back and close his eyes while the two gryffindors worked.
The rest had become one great big blur. One minute he sees himself running from the troll. The next, it tries crushing Hermione, only to then save her. Finally, he finds himself on the floor. Watching as the redhead boy use his wand to levitate the club; dropping it on top of his Pea-sized brain.
A long heavy THUMP! The troll falls face flat on his face. Defeated, the troll let's out a heavy breath. Snot leaking from it's great nostrils.
"Mortimer! Are you alright?" It was Hermione. Opening one of his eyes, he sees the concern look on her face. She's covered in wet dirt, mixed with dusty particles.
"Wh-What happened?" He grunts. Sitting up, he covers his face with a hand.
"You hit your head on the ground, maybe a little too hard." She replies.
"What were you doing in the dungeons?" Harry abruptly asks.
Mortimer takes a moment to reply, rubbing his temple. "Gee – I don't know? Maybe that's where – Again, I don't know, a guess – Where the slytherin dorms at? What do you think I was doing there?"
Ron decides to speak. "Why don't you tell us?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tells them. "I don't have to explain myself to you or anyone. But for your information, I was going to bed."
He scoffs. "Who goes to bed in this hour!?" Ron ponders in disbelief.
Hermione interrupts him. "That isn't important now!" She helps mortimer off the floor. "Are you alright?" She checks again.
Mortimer only nods.
"Thank you for helping me." Hermione offers him an appreciative expression.
Ron rolls his eyes and Harry stays quiet; he doesn't know what to think.
The teachers did eventually come. But it wasn't to save them from the dastardly over-sized creature. Nope – It was to give out detention for not following school regulations.
The gryffindors managed to both loose and gain points for their actions. However, that didn't matter to them because in the end, what they really ended up getting was an understanding. It became clear that the three would end up as friends. And this has only brought them closer.
A happy ending for the trio.
Mortimer was left to his own.
Yes, he lost points. Did he gain any? No. He was awarded detention with Snape. For what?
For being a good person I guess.
Wiping his nose, Mortimer was escorted back to his dorm.
Halloween ended in night no one would forget. A special day for some. On this day, the trio had become golden. And Mortimer got to celebrate his freedom. Because on this day, is the day the real Devil perished and burned leaving the earth for good. The devil Mortimer calls Nana.