AN: Yeeeeee, I made it. Work has left me rather exhausted, so in between days I just work and go to sleep. BUT besides that, everything's good. One thing I feel I should explain about Draco's behavior in this chapter (and previous others) is that I don't think he would change overnight - So easily that he would suddenly start accepting everyone. I'm noticing in some chapter's he's somewhat underdstanding and then next, he's back to his pureblood ways, it's a back and forth thing, so sorry if you were finding that confusing... SPECIAL THANKS to Foxtrot1702 - Yes, our work is never done is it? But at least we have these small moments to share xD For the rest of you, Thank You for reading! Follow/Fav/Review
What was once a quiet and peace was violently interrupted by clomping footsteps.
Mortimer troubled and looked up only to see dozens of students running outside the corridors, stampeding with most haste and pushing inwards through the doors. More and more children filled the room, their faces pale, they wanted to avoid staying any further.
And it was thanks to Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick.
"Tell me again why we aren't going home?" Standing in the entrance hall near Draco, he asks.
"Father doesn't want us near when the aurors show up – Mother agrees." He replies, heedful of the crowd. "Said they've been coming non-stop trying to find father's artifacts."
"Well. . . at least it'll be quiet." The bright side being not seeing Lucius or having to face most of the children here, he was all for it. Downside, the golden trio will be joining them here as well.
"Make way, Make way for the heir of slytherin!"
"Evil wizard coming through!"
Darting their eyes, Draco and Mortimer watch as the pair of Weasley's marched through the corridors, guiding Harry as if they were his own personal lackey's. Truthfully, he didn't fight his urge to chuckle. The humor they found during these times was encouraging at best, the lunacy that people actually believed Potter was heir had Mortimer covering his mouth.
"Off to the chamber for a cup tea with his fanged servant." One of them starts to laugh. Mortimer couldn't tell the difference.
"Why are you laughing?" There was anger and disgust in Draco's voice.
He chuckles again. "Because it's funny."
"They're making fun of you!" He barks. "Insulting his good name…" Lowering it before anyone could hear. "You're letting Potter win."
No longer was he feeling jolly. Mortimer rolled his annoyed, jet black eyes. "Stop making it about him. Like I told you earlier, he's not responsible for the attacks. Tobey said so himself."
Draco's eyebrows furrowed, upset. He proceeds to watch the gryffindor prefect scolding his siblings. "You're really going to listen what a worm told you?"
Without so much as a hint of doubt, he nods. "Yes – Tobey's been following Potter. Had he been up to no good, he would have told me by now. Just like when he told me about Justin and nearly headless nick – Already petrified by the time Potter's shown up. Speaking of which, Tobey is still around here. . . Somewhere."
Yeah… where did that little serpent run off to? Mortimer felt as though he hasn't seen him in weeks ever since he gave him the task to follow the chosen one. Since then however, Black has yet to hear a peep out of him.
Observing Draco's sharp expression, Mortimer could see his cousin's displeasure. His lack of response made it even more obvious.
A good distance away, Potter was eyeing the two. Draco appearing irritated. "Malfoy's just dying to say that he's heir – Look at him, he hates being beaten and you taking credit is killing him inside." Ron would go on to say.
"We'll find out soon enough." Hermione chipped in, her own curiosity bringing much more eagerness to the question.
Seen enough conundrum, Mortimer decides to head back to his dorm. Draco doesn't move a muscle, letting him know he'll be sticking around.
Shifting towards the first-floor, Mortimer gave a short breath before turning away, at a casual pace over the halls. Pondering for a while, he continues where he left off, that of Potter being slytherin's very own heir. The stupid boy thought speaking parseltongue in public was a good idea.
What on earth was he thinking? Was he not aware of the reputation that slytherin had carried? The overall dislike for the wizard who had qualms with the other world?
His brain was itching for an answer. Who was responsible for the attacks? Someone so powerful they were to petrify a ghost? Who else was there besides Harry? Weasley?
As if. . .
"Happy yule, Mortimer." Luna's soft, yet chipper, voice came through his ears.
Studying her, he notes her winter wear as she drags a trunk behind. "As to you – Guess you'll be going home this year?"
"Mmhmm." She hums. "I don't want father to spend it alone. And I know he misses me terribly – I do too. It's the first time we've separated since getting my letter. Ooo; but I was so excited to come here, but also sad because I won't be having anymore adventures with father."
Mortimer couldn't relate the feeling. He tried the best he could. "Well, I'm sure now that you'll be going home, there will be plenty of adventures."
"Most definitely!" She agrees and then tilts her head. "Are you not going home?"
Uncertain, he answers vaguely. "No – Malfoy business and what-not. It'll just be me and Draco."
"Yes, I heard the ministry has granted aurors permission to raid homes for dark objects – I'm sure Draco has nothing to worry about." Waving her hand, Luna to sets her trunk down.
Digging inside, she retrieves a hat the size of her finger. "Here, before I forget," She giggles. "It's a gift for Tobey."
Further inspection, Mortimer could see it was a plain cowboy hat made out of crumbled parchment, but was neatly painted in a warm beige color. "Tobey? You got Tobey a gift?"
Shaking her head, she smiled in pride. "Mmhmm, I made it myself – As a thank you for saving my life."
Wait – What? Mortimer rose a brow in confusion. What was Tobey doing in his spare time? He's suppose to be following Potter.
"Saving your life?" He questions. "What did he do? Save you from falling down the stairs?"
"Oh! Did he tell you?" She said cheerfully. "Yes. I was on the third-floor and well. . ." Luna's cheeks turn pink when she embarrassingly confesses. "I must have been daydreaming because I suddenly found myself one step from tumbling down – Thankfully – Tobey blew away the clouds in my head before I could trip."
The small head piece resting on his palm, his brows knitted. "Hm – I'm sure he'll love it…" Forcing himself to say. "Glad he was able to help."
"Well I guess I better get going, I wouldn't want to miss the train – Happy Holidays!" Luna finishes by giving Mortimer a quick hug before he could push her away.
Watching her run, he stares back at the hat for a while until he was able to shove it in his pocket.
Tobey has explaining to do.
"Wake up, Mortimer! Presents!" Draco said excitedly as he jumps out his bed.
Clutching the blankets, he wraps them closer. "Mm – Go away. . ." Moaning in torpor.
Rushing over to Mortimer, Draco begins shaking him. "Let's go! Crabbe and Goyle are already down unwrapping theirs. I bet mother and father brought us all sorts of gifts."
Eyes shut closed, he groans. ". . . Don't care –"
Draco was taking 'no' for an answer as he grows impatient and proceeds to pull the blanket. "C'mon –" Grunting, struggling to tear it off Mortimer's gripped hands. "Don't be flat! How are you not excited?"
"Sleep now – Presents later." Mortimer murmurs, a little bit drool coming down from the corner of his mouth.
Left with no other choice, Draco enforces drastic measures by pushing Mortimer right on to the floor.
Being as groggy as he was, he simply lets out a small noise of complaint. "I'll meet you downstairs." Hearing Draco, Mortimer was tempted to stay on the floor until he lost consciousness.
Aware if he didn't show up sooner, Draco would probably kick him instead. Lazily, he gets up and grabs his sleeping robes as he leaves the dorm, walking downstairs and into the slytheirn common room where Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were.
Sitting on one of the dark emerald couches, Mortimer sat back and watched as they frantically opened their parents, eager to see what they've received.
The boys only groaned when they found packages of clothes and squealed at the latest novelties.
Mortimer received a nice sweater with a heating charm from his Aunt Cissy and a brush that was enchanted to get rid of those tangles in his hair that she'd always complain about. Uncle Lucius gave him a scroll with the names of every Black family member, a guide of what's to come as the next Black heir, along with a book, Potion Opuscule.
Tracey and Daphne gifted him a basket filled with various chocolates and candies. Nott, a new ink bottle. Mortimer was surprised to get light prism socks from Luna.
After the excitement, Mortimer and Draco spent most of day in the common room playing wizarding chess. Mortimer was never any good despite being seen as an intellectual. Draco, however, was king compared to him, way better than him.
Later in the day, they would go outside in the courtyard, building snowmen and throwing them at each other until it was time for the Christmas feast to begin.
It was beautiful, the floating ornaments, the wild streamers, and magical snow falling from the ceiling. It was joyful and most importantly, warm. Had he known it would be this merry, he might have stayed during his first-year.
The feast was tummy filling. Certainly, he couldn't eat another bite. At least that's what he kept telling himself as he was on his fourth plate of log cake and third cup of hot chocolate.
By the time he finished stuffing his face, he thought now might be a good time to pass out. Draco wanted to stay for a while so Mortimer went alone and headed back to the common room, where he decides to lay near the fireplace.
The warm fire's heat tingles his skin when he starts pondering, who could be responsible for attacking the students? He hates to admit it, but the idea of someone taking away the slytherin title from him brought in a distressful effect he couldn't shake off. Maybe it was just him being selfish because in reality, Mortimer believed he was no one special. No one important, even after death, no one will remember him besides that kid related to that one death eater.
Being the descendent of Salazar Slytherin, it was the only thing that truly made him feel special. It was what made him different from every wizard, every witch that existed in time. Without the name, Mortimer sought himself as no one. And sure, no one is meant to know, but he knew and that's all he cares about. It was the fact of knowing who he is, what he can do that made it worth while.
He can talk to bloody snakes for crying out loud! That has to count for something, right? Then again… So can Potter. The way he commanded the snake to stop, only for it to listen to him was astonishing. Since that day, Mortimer honestly felt threatened. A figure as big as the-boy-who-lived will dampen Mortimer's reputation as heir, they'd think he was an imposter, a phony, all while Potter is praised for the talent he was given. More like stole… He tells himself.
With everything going on, Mortimer didn't know what to do, he was more concerned about who might be next. No one deserves to get hurt because of one's blood, as Dumbledore had told him – Just as there are bad people, there are also bad wizards. There was no out weighing when it came down to it.
Just like how Nana had treated him, the wizards and witches here were no different. He was hated equally by both worlds, but it was thanks to Harry that for once he wasn't the most despised.
It really has been a good year. . . So far.
"Hey Mortimer! Mortimer!" Draco rushes inside the common room, pacing behind him was Crabbe and Goyle.
Sitting up, Mortimer realized he was laying here for half an hour. "What now?"
Draco appeared rather smug. "I was going to show Crabbe and Goyle something really funny. I want to show you as well."
"Wait – Don't tell me," Mortimer scratches his head for a second. "You've learned to count."
At this, both Crabbe and Goyle began snorting in laughter, trying to hold it in with little success.
"Shut up you two!" Draco shouts, a bit flustered, he turns to Mortimer. "Father sent me something not long ago – I'll be right back"
Getting up from the carpet, Mortimer decides to take seat close to the fire. Draco motions his two lackeys to do the same as he runs to get whatever he wanted to show them.
Putting his hands behind his neck, Mortimer leans back and watches the fire.
"Wh-What do you think he wants to show us?" Hearing Goyle ask, Mortimer turns his eyes on him. He looked nervous, in fact, so did Crabbe as Mortimer could see small beads of sweat dripping down their faces.
"Probably wants to show off something his father gave him, a new pony perhaps." He shrugs, helping himself to party plate of fudge near him.
Crabbe laughs only to be elbowed by Goyle. "Um – But if you had to guess…" Goyle continues. "Do you think it has to do with the heir of slytherin?"
Mortimer blinks, his eyes become a little wider. "No." He quietly says. "It's not like I would know anything either."
Nervously, but still determined, Goyle states. "Bu-But your cousins – Doesn't that mean he tells you everything? Like who's responsible for the attacks?"
There was something odd going on with Goyle's questions. After only a year of knowing him, Gregory Goyle has never spoken to him at this kind of level. If anything, Mortimer was pretty sure they've only exchanged three words this entire year.
The same couldn't be said for Crabbe, Mortimer can't say he's heard a single word out of Vincent. They were always quiet whenever he was in the room, too scared to say anything out of fear that they might annoy him one day and Mortimer would snap.
Very strange.
"What's gotten you asking these questions Gregory?" Acting casual, Mortimer asks. "Don't tell me you're scared."
Suddenly Crabbe speaks up. "Wouldn't you?"
Interesting… Mortimer purses his lip. "Why would I be? It's after muggleborns after all…" He doesn't call himself a pureblood but doesn't deny it either out of the image he has to maintain.
Eyeing the two of them closely, they were starting to fidget slightly. "You guys are both – "
"Here it is! I found it!" Shouted Draco, he shoves a newspaper clipping into Crabbe's face. "This'll give you a laugh."
Once they were done reading it, Draco hands it to Mortimer. It was an article about Weasley's father and how he was fined for enchanting a vehicle that was seen by many non-magical people. Draco laughing, his father seemed to be adding more fuel to the flame, slandering Weasley's name, calling him unworthy of being a wizard.
"Well? What do you think? Funny right?" Draco chuckles again.
Crabbe and Goyle join him far too long. Mortimer, however, didn't find it funny.
"They should just snap his wand so he can go and join the rest of them." Shaking his head, Draco proceeds. "Pffft – The way the behave, you would never suspect Weasley's to be purbloods. A disgrace to all of us."
Observing, Mortimer notices Crabbe clenching his hand when his expression turns bitter.
"What's with you Crabbe?" Draco asked.
Crabbe groans. "Oh – um, stomachache."
Draco didn't think much of it, but was rather annoyed when he flicked his head towards the door. "Then go to the hospital wing, and while you're at it, give the mudbloods a kick for me."
Laughing at his own joke, he proceeds, "Can't believe Dumbledore's trying to cover it all up… Father says he's the worst thing to ever happen to Hogwarts – It's because of him that slime like Creevey is allowed to be here in the first place."
Throwing a chunk of fudge at him, Mortimer scolds. "That's enough."
"Oh come off it Mortimer." Brushing his hand away. "It's true. A decent headmaster wouldn't let them in, just how salazar would have wanted." There was a short pause until Draco began impersonating Colin Creevey. "Ooo~ Can I have your picture Potter? An autograph? Perhaps I can lick the dirt off you shoes?"
Both Goyle and Crabbe looked as if they were ready to jump Malfoy, their faces filled rage when Draco watched their unusual reactions. "What in merlin's gotten in to you two?"
The pair probably lacked social cue's, thought Mortimer. A minute later, they start laughing along, sounding almost forced.
Rotating his eyes, Mortimer was not amused by Draco's little imitation. They've had this conversation before and for while, he fooled himself into believing Draco finally understood, only to then later be shoved back by his own. Prejudice.
"Saint Potter. . ." Draco scoffs, "What a joke, a disgrace to wizard kind – Hanging around with the likes of Granger, mudblood –" he shifts his eyes towards Mortimer, near crossed. "And people think he's the heir."
Leaning forward in their seats, Crabbe and Goyle listen eagerly. Draco speak again, "If I knew who it was – " careful with his words, he shares one last look with Mortimer. "I would help them."
Mortimer only glared in response, his hands clenched together as Draco moves his away. Crabbe was exactly clueless when his jaw dropped in disbelief. Goyle, however, spoke in turn. "But you must have some idea on who's behind it all…"
Peeved with the two idiots, Draco snapped. "You know I don't Goyle! How many times do I have to tell you." Shaking his head, he let's out a deep breath. "Doesn't matter because Father won't tell me anything… Said it'll look too suspicious if knew too much.
"But one thing I do know, The last time the chamber was opened. . .a mudblood died." He tipped, a dark stare waving inside his silver irises. "It's only a matter of time before someone gets killed. . ." A moment in thought. "I hope it's Granger."
A big chunk of fudge thumps him upside the head.
Mortimer standing a few feet away, expression hardened, doesn't say anything in return. Changing his position he removes himself from the room and goes to his dorm.
With only Draco left, Goyle asks faintly. "What's wrong with him?"
For once Draco seemed hesitant to reply, but did so vaguely. "Nothing." He goes back to the subject. "But that's beside the point…"
"Do you know if the person was ever caught?" Goyle probed, and yet, Draco didn't question it.
Malfoy, staring in the direction where Mortimer had stomped off to. "Hm? Oh – Yeah, he was probably expelled and sent to azkaban."
"Azkaban?"
Veering his head swiftly, Draco was shock at his friend's own stupidity. "Azkaban? The wizarding prison? Remember? Honestly Goyle, you might as well start walking backwards with that thick head yours." A short sigh, he goes to sit where Mortimer had previously rested, feeling restless. "Father says I should keep my head down, let the heir of slytherin take care of it, especially now that aurors started raiding the manor –"
Goyle and Crabbe listened attentively, any information they could get right now, they's use it for later. Studying Draco as he scratches his head in deep wonderment. "The heir of syltherin. . . It doesn't make sense…" He whispers. "The heir..."
Before Goyle could ask what he meant, he notices Crabbe's hair getting lighter. "Oh!"
Suddenly he grabs Crabbe by the arm. "I-I should get Crabbe to the hospital wing now! His stomachache seems to be getting worse."
A signal, Crabbe grabs his stomach and starts groaning in pain.
Running out of the slytherin common room, Draco doesn't seem fazed by this. Good riddance. His only concern now was facing slytherin's true heir. The one currently upstairs, locked away inside his dorm, with curtains closed shut. He's probably gone off to bed where he'll remain until morning.
Mortimer will avoid him. . . for a while.
The Holiday break came to an official close as students had returned back to Hogwarts. Nothing worth noting in the upcoming month that followed.
Rumors that Hermione Granger had been attacked brought concern to him. His transfiguration partner had neglected to show on the very first day. His worry increased when many students rushed to the hospital wing to see if their suspicions had been true.
There was guilt in his eyes, and for a while, he blamed himself. Draco might have despised the bushy-haired muggleborn, but Mortimer had come to respect her in a way. Despite her coming from non-magical parents, she didn't let that stop her from exceeding everyone's expectations. She was brilliant and resourceful, when it counted. Even Mortimer had a hard time keeping up with her, a mind like Granger's, he was sure she would beat him by the end of this year with the highest marks.
Now that it was February, things slowly died down. There hasn't been any attacks since and Mortimer was again privileged enough to work with Madam Pomfrey. The Mandrakes had grown exponentially that the time had come to re-pot them. No longer where they stuck in infancy but were going through the stages of puberty.
At some point Flich had shown up to ask how far long will it be before they could heal Mrs. Norris. Madam Pomfrey had been confident and replied. "Once their acne clears, they'll be set and ready for repotting! Won't be long now until we're stewing them – And then you'll have Mrs. Norris back in tip top shape."
Another week had passed, on this particular day Mortimer found himself sitting in the great hall eating breakfast with Theo, Daphne and Tracey. Everything was quiet, no talk of the chamber had arise, and the students were slowly starting to feel safe again.
Considering it was morning, not everyone was up and full awake, Mortimer's eyes were still closed when he first slumped down at the slytherin table. Not much else was thought up as he ate a hot bowl of oatmeal.
"Mortimer, don't eat like a pig."
Hearing Daphne's voice as she made a sound of disgust. He opens one eye, while the other remained closed, and replied. "Oink. . ."
Tracey and Theo laughed at this, Daphne crinkled her nose, clearly not amused by answer.
Several minutes went by and Mortimer had suddenly realized the great hall had been exaggeratedly re- decorated in various heart shapes of red, whites, and pinks.
"Guys. . . Where am I?" Mortimer faintly wonders around, thinking maybe he's been teleported to some strange form hell.
"It finally took you twenty minutes to realize Lockhart's taken over the place?" Daphne said, putting a marmalade on her toast.
"Isn't it fun?" Tracey's face brightened at the prospects.
"This is fun for you?" Theo questioned, nervousness casting his face. "Do you know what this means?"
"Of course she does." A cheshire-like grin spread's across face. "It's valentine's day."
Tracey begins to giggle, covering her mouth with her finger tips. Theo's horrified expression as his face, his skin turns pale and his cheeks turn hollow.
Mortimer's half-lidded eyes suddenly turn into a wide-eyed stare before he slowly began to slide off his seat but was apprehended by Daphne's strong grip. "Oh no you don't!"
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Gilderoy Lockhart's announcement boomed throughout the great hall. "I first like to thank the forty-six people who've sent me cards, so far. Secondly, I've brought surprise, of my very own. . . card-carrying cupids!"
Tracey beamed and let out a short squeal. Daphne dumbly loosens her hand, giving Mortimer the chance to escape from her clutches.
Rubbing his arm, a gasp escaping Mortimer's breath, as dozens of dwarfs breached the great hall, carrying small harps and angel wings on their backs, diapers on their lowers, there was bad feeling going through his gut.
"They will be going around the school today, handing out your own valentine's cards!"
While everyone was distracted, Mortimer crept behind, if there was every a time to become invisible, it would be now. And just like that, Mortimer had ran out of the great hall.
Following breakfast, he managed to avoid the hounding dwarfs that were singing songs and reading out poetry. For the most part, he had saved himself the humiliation of receiving such horrid messages.
Hiding behind school pillars, using children as shields and disguising himself – Thanks to Luna, of course – the dwarfs would never think it was him.
A sweat covered Mortimer was currently taking shelter behind Millicent Bulstrode. Despite lacking in words, Millicent spoke through her expressions. The frown she wore had send off warnings to those who approach her there'd be dire consequences. She didn't like being disturbed, nor trifled with, even those from her own house knew better than to mess with her.
The dwarfs seemed to get the message as well. They were nervous to ask, even more shaky to approach, but nonetheless, had seemingly passed on like nothing.
Little did they know, Mortimer had successfully hid beneath the tough burly girl.
"Thanks Milli." Mortimer smiled, his teeth exposed, he couldn't believe it worked. "Here." Pulling out three galleons out of his pocket, Bulstrode took her payment in full before walking off.
Towards the end of the day, Mortimer had retired in the comfort of his bed.
Mortimer had all but avoided Draco in the following month that followed. It started over the break, when Draco had confessed into wanting slytherin's heir to finish the job that Salazar had started. Since his harsh words and stance against muggleborns, Mortimer did not know why he tried, it was obvious that he'd never change his ways.
How long will he ignore Malfoy? He didn't know. And after sending a letter to Aunt Cissy, she had not commented, nor did she offer any sort of advise. Her wording had been generic and vague. Mortimer believed it was because the Ministry of Magic had been keeping a close eye on the Malfoy's ever since Arthur Weasley had pushed the ministry to approve the Muggle Protection Act.
Regardless, this was something that couldn't be helped. Still no word from Tobey, but Mortimer has been hearing children say that they themselves have spotted the elongated reptile slithering the corridors, believed to be working for the heir, they ran away out of fear.
They weren't wrong.
Though, he could not very well admit it. It was relatively getting calm around the school. And as of now, Potter has been given a break from the lynching mob of students who demanded his head. The lack of attacks after this time, it was starting to feel normal once again.
And perhaps they were right, the chamber – whether it existed – has been officially closed and the threat was no longer the case. Mortimer hoped this was true. Whoever was responsible had probably come to their senses and realized the severity of their action. Mortimer was curious to find the imposter, at the same time, had no interest in confronting them. So as long as the attacks have stopped and no one else was hurt, Mortimer would be alright leaving it at that.
Turning the page of this horrible chapter.