AN: Finally an update. I'll be honest. I haven't been feeling well these pass few weeks. Hence why I haven't been able to post as much as I wanted. I still don't feel any better but i've dragged enough, I think. Thankfully, I haven't lost interest in the story...YET. Anyways, Thanks for reading. Follow/Fav/Review.

"Sit still Mortimer. I'm trying to get rid of all these knots in your hair." Narcissa stern, yet annoyed, told. "I swear – You'd think with enough magic, your hair would finally sit still."

"Aunt Cissy…" He started, "Wouldn't you agree that I'm old enough to groom myself? I don't need you to – OW!" It felt as though his aunt had pulled a piece of his scalp.

"Old enough?" She laughs. "You wouldn't need me if you'd simply kept tidy." Grabbing a silvery comb, she starts pulling back his dark hair. "Today is a special day for you and I want you to look your best."

"Then let me decide what to do. I want to – Ow ow ow…" He hisses again.

Narcissa's forehead creased, struggling to pull the comb back. "Too late. I've already made the arrangements and everyone's arrived by now; your friends should be there as well."

Her nephew's face was being lifted by the dastardly rake. "But not my friends friends, right?"

"My sweet boy, you don't need those kinds of friends when you have perfectly good ones here." A hard brush back. "Now sit still will you? I'm nearly finished." She hummed.

Adding final touches, she ends it by spraying him down with a strong cologne scent that causes the boy to cough.

"Perfect." She smiles proudly, setting the bottle aside, Narcissa moved closer. "You'll make the perfect gentlemen one day."

"Ugh. . ."

Moving pass him, she moves to one of the closets. "Oh stop fussing Mortimer. It's not all bad - Or would you prefer I hold onto the gifts?"

Folding his arm, the boy was unimpressed. "You're resorting to threats?"

"That's not a threat dear." Still digging, she swipes over the various of jackets. "This is – " There was a dangerous tone in her warning. "You will have wonderful time and will treat our guests as such – OR – You can stay in your little box, mope all day, and spend it with that Parkinson girl you like so much."

Afraid of what that would mean for him, his eyes widened as hers gleamed. "Now – " Presenting two colored dress jackets, she asks. "Brunswick Green or Midnight Blue?"

Unable to reply, he merely points at the midnight jacket, bringing her much joy. "Good."

"I will be heading down now." Moving for the door, she turns the knob. "I'm sure you can find your way down? You are - after all - old enough?"

A grunt escapes the boys lips, bringing a small snicker from the woman.

Once Narcissa had left, the boy goes to the nearest mirror, inspecting himself to see any signs of growth, but couldn't seem to find any. If anything, he notes how well groomed he was. Spick and span from head to toe, he appeared to be the perfect picture of the average ritzy snob that ever existed.

Before he could move his feet, he goes near the drawer beside his bed. It was there that he takes out a few of his letters he's received from his friends, his real friends.

Ginny, for the most part, was doing well. Bored, for the most part, she often spent her days helping her mother around the house. This year she tried being on her best behavior, hoping with enough influence, her mother would buy her actual new supplies. No hand-me downs. Items that weren't used by her brothers, or someone else in their lifetime. There was also the excitement in her writing when she expressed how much she couldn't wait till they'd meet at Diagon Alley.

Setting aside Ginny, he picks up Luna's latest letter. She was somewhat sad she wasn't able to visit Ginny as much as she wanted. At the same time, was having a wonderful time. She and her father had left to go travel in New Zealand, exploring the pacific ocean in search of fire crabs. Her father believed there was a spirit in their home, the wooded floorboards of their house creaked anytime they walked, so he thought taking crystals of a fire crab would fend them off. Mortimer didn't actually believe her father but was glad for her. Sending him photos she took of the beautiful ocean, she appeared happy as can be, waving at the camera.

Tracey had sent Mortimer a little something the day before. Her sense of humor, amazing him, when the owl presented him with a dark green neck pillow. A note, wishing him the best and hoped the pillow will stop the aches in his neck. This of course had been taken as him always rotating his neck. A thoughtful gift, he hid it underneath his pillow, fearing his Aunt or Uncle might confiscate it.

Then there was Daphne, compared to Davis, she only managed to send out handful of letters. All of which were based on her doing fine, nothing worth writing, at least in her eyes. Nevertheless, he was delighted to hear from her.

Placing the letters back in his drawer, he's stalled enough. Deciding to grab his robes, he leave the comfort of his room.

Heading down the white marble stairs, he goes towards the back of the manor where are all the guests have gathered. It was an outdoor ball, where the sun shined and the colors popped with exaggerated brightness. Birds that singed songs and the bright blues of the skies brought in good moods. There was already a decent amount of people socializing on this special day.

He cracked his neck.

On the month of August, where the birthday boy stood, Mortimer Black walks outside into the crowd where he is bombarded by the many wizards who whished him a happy birthday.

A strictly private celebration, both Lucius and Narcissa were determined the public not find out his existence. However, didn't stop them from telling their inner crowd, bringing them here today to celebrate his birth.

Mortimer smiled and waved, thanking his guests for coming.

Having contact with Nott Senior, he shakes his hand before saying. "Thank you for coming Sir. I'm sure you have better places to be."

The man laughs. "Nonsense my boy. This is a special occasion after all, worth celebrating. And you've grown since the last time I saw you. Yes – I can see it now. You're starting to look like your parents each day."

Mortimer cringes, "That means a lot to me Sir. Please enjoy the rest of the party. I'm sure we'll have plenty to talk later."

"Of course. Your uncle has asked a few of us to stay over. I'm sure after we've concluded our little business here, we'll have plenty to talk." The man gives him a wink, leaving Mortimer curious as to what he means.

Seconds later, Mortimer was being approached by Aurelian Avery. "A day for celebration! Happy Birthday Mr. Black."

A painful smile, he says. "Thank you – Sir…"

Calmly walking away, it didn't take long for him to be dragged again, this time by a witch.

Sabella Selwyn, here to pinch the boys cheeks until they turn red. "Oh my dear handsome boy~ But I guess I shouldn't be calling you a boy anymore, now should I? A man." She squealed. "Look at you – You're a man!"

The burning in his face as she squeezed harder, he could barely talk. "Phaank ouuu –"

Sighing in relief, her talons lets go of his now swollen face, "Which reminds me!" it then leads to her gripping his arm, energetically pulling him across the crowd, they make it towards another witch.

This was one however, was a lot younger. "Ooo Mortimer, I'm so excited! I want you to meet my lovely daughter Samuela Selwyn."

Her daughter?! Trying to pry her hands away, he couldn't escape the tight hold she had on him. "She'll be attending Hogwarts this year! I'm sure you two will be very close friends."

In those measly second, the atmosphere becomes very uncomfortable for Mortimer when he forces the words out of his mouth. "H-Hello Miss. . ."

Numbly waving his hand, the pale skinned, white blond, little girl greeted him back in the same manner, equally mortified. "H-H-Hi."

"Selwyn? How many times do I have to tell you? Mortimer isn't taking betrothal contracts… Not yet." Narcissa voice coming out from a group, saves Mortimer from further conversation.

"Pish-Posh, Narcissa my daughter is simply trying to be polite." Turning to her daughter, she gives her a warning stare. "Isn't that right, sweetie?"

The girl, terrified, didn't respond. Mortimer took this as a chance to distance himself away. "Right! It was nice seeing all of you again BUT, I think I hear my name being called over there." Pointing who knows where, he quickly runs before he's captured.

Almost an hour goes by and he slowly strikes conversations with the other witches and wizards that shown up. One's he's never met but nonetheless, welcomed. His Aunt had at some point dragged him across the gardens, introducing to him to the most random of guests.

Something he isn't quite use to, but was determined to learn all he could from wizarding society. Yet, was aware that most only came due to the people he's surrounded with.

After talking to members of the Rosie family, he decides to look for Theo who was sitting with Draco at the many tables that were set up.

Draco wears nothing but grey, while Theo added some color by sporting a robe that was dark red. The two were obviously engaged in conversation that they don't notice Mortimer approaching them.

He plops down before letting out a heavy breath. "There's the birthday boy."

Theo's jokingly voice causes Mortimer to slump down in misery. "I would've been fine with just the presents. . ." He grumbles.

"But then you wouldn't be suffering, now would you?" Theo jeered.

Draco, smiling slightly as he joined in. "Exactly. One of us has to bear the burden. And luckily, that person is you."

Resting his elbows on the table, Mortimer gave them a very droll stare. "Very funny guys."

"Worry not my depressed friend, you've only got let see…" Lifting his head, Theo pretends to be studying the sky. "Hm – six more hours to go."

Like I didn't know that already! Which only added more prolong groans from the birthday boy. And more laughter from those two idiots he called friends.

Later that day, the party had dwindled down. Many of the guests had left. Those remaining were one's Lucius had asked to stay, members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were all huddled together in Lucius' study, where majority of their time was being spent.

This could only mean they were plotting something. With Lucius involved, it has to be bad.

Scrutinizing over what it could be, Mortimer could not deny the temptation sprawling over his head.

Unfortunately for him, right now he's found himself in rather tight predicament.

"You're such a great dancer Mortimer." Pansy Parkinson, squeezing his hands roughly, had dragged Mortimer towards the dance floor. "I hope I'm not making Draco jealous."

Little did she know Draco and a few other of his friends were off laughing at the sight of Mortimer's own misery. His eyes drooping, his forehead creased and his nostrils flared anytime her screeching laughter pounded inside his ears.

Enduring, but barely, his mind was better off thinking more about Lucius and his group of socialites.

What could they be talking to about? Since they've arrived the group of wizards were quiet and overall cryptic. Lucius even failed to show his face within the first hour, his excuse being simply business. Mortimer didn't quite believe him, it was never simple with him. As a Malfoy, Lucius always felt the need to stay in the limelight. To be the picture perfect figure of what a pureblood wizard should be. Including being the spokesperson for said movement.

Mortimer restrained a small twinge of concern. Concern for those who might fall to victim. He didn't want stand back, if he's able to help, he would. And if there was chance to catch even a glimpse of their conversation, he would need to act. Yet, insolent behavior was certainly something that could not be allowed, not currently, least he wanted attention brought to him.

"What's wrong?" Pansy huffed annoyingly, noticing his lack of movement. The boy wasn't even looking at her! His eyes were off dozing to the right side of the manor.

Stopping in his feet, Pansy was startled when Mortimer politely smiled. "Sorry Pansy. All this moving around has gotten me tired." Letting go of her hands, he begins moving away. "I think I'll just head back and rest for a while."

Pansy stepped forward, her ego bruised. "But it's only been fifteen minutes."

Her hands resting on her hips, her lips pursed as she waited for Mortimer. "Right… You see – I've been noticing Draco." He excused. "He's been giving this dirty look. I'm worried that we've made him jealous."

A horrible gasp, Pansy immediately bought it. "Oh no! I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea."

Sharing her concern, Mortimer rubbed the back of his head. "I don't know Pansy… Do you see him around here? I'm pretty sure he ran off. You know? Couldn't bear to see you with anyone else."

"Your right!" A grave mistake, Pansy quickly panics at the prospect of upsetting the blond. "I have to find to find him and explain to him that this –" Gesturing her hands between them. "Does not mean anything."

Mortimer absolutely agreed, resting a hand on his chest, he continue to say. "Of course Pansy. I would never want to come between the two of you. No matter how tempting."

As dramatic as she was, Pansy covered her mouth holding her non-existent tears. "Please, say no more…" She sniffs. "I'm going to go look for him."

Eyes widening in bewilderment, witnessing her run off into the gardens, lets out a chuckle. I can't believe that actually worked!

Better now that she was out of the way, he could turn his attention away from the celebration.

Further scouting, he could see Aunt Cissy sitting at a near table with a couple of other witches. Appearing to be drinking tea and eating a small tray of pastries, she was, for the most part, distracted, good.

It was a good time to wander the area. As he walks back inside the manor, he made sure wasn't seen.

Not to rouse suspicion, Mortimer remained quiet. Thinking further, where Lucius and other could have gone, Mortimer consciously went the second-floor of the manor. It was where he was sure they were having their meeting. The constant reminder of being stealthy, he made it pass the cold empty hall. Turning the corner, it's where spots the doors leading to his study showed.

Eyes glued to door, he doesn't feel his body moving until he starts noticing how close he was getting. Anticipation, his mouth starts watering for the information.

Once he makes it to the outside of his office, Mortimer was disappointed to find the doors sealed shut. His hands clenching. They were telling him to take hold of the door knob, just one turn, and the entrance would surely open.

There was fear, fear of being caught, seen, questioned. And yet, determination, to know, finding out what devilish plans they have in store.

Without a moment to lose, he does what he came to do. As quiet as he could muster, a hand reaches the gleaming door knob. But soon stops in his tracks. Noticing how his hand was shaking.

This won't work.

A small obstacle, however easily manageable when he digs inside his robes to retrieve his wand.

Gripping it tightly, he mutters. "Alohomora."

The knob jiggling, the doors slowly open. Not too far, only slight that an eye could fit. Yet, it was enough for him to see inside the cold room. The only source of light coming from the fireplace.

There, they were resting in arm chairs while other's were standing back. Mortimer could easily find Nott Senior, laughing away with Bulstrode. The male Carrow talking to Flint.

Right in the middle of room stood Lucius, annoyance casting straight on his face. Yaxley seemed highly amused when he spoke. "Come now, Malfoy, I'm sure you've mistaken young Black's intentions."

"Intentions?" Rolling his eyes, he scoffs. "That boy is becoming more troublesome than he's worth. Forget being a Black – A Slytherin? Far from it. I've slowly come to realize the boy's spineless nature. I'd go as far and call him a mudblood lover."

Yaxley thought it was unlikely. The boy's parent's were anything but – The apple does not far from the tree. "Did you ask your son?"

Behind the door, Mortimer was listening carefully, gripping hands when he hears Draco's name being called. There was a small twinge of betrayal but unsurprisingly believable, it made sense that Draco would report to his own father. The question now is, how much did he reveal?

Mortimer didn't need to hold his breath any further.

"I did." A slight nod from Lucius. "He insists it isn't true but does admit Mortimer's confusion when it comes to traditions – An excuse I assure you."

A small huff of breath, Mortimer was stunned to find Draco's concealment.

Tapping his chin lightly, Yaxley reflects on his words. "Your son may be on to something… Think about it, you and your wife mention the boy was raised by their kind. It's only natural he'd find comfort in their barbaric environment."

Coming to the two men was Theo's father. "I agree with Corban. The boy's been brainwashed, fooled by those good for nothing, stealing mudbloods."

Lucius lowers his brows, "What do you suggest?" he was all ears. "It's not like I can force the boy to change. I would've done it so had that not been the case."

"Not necessarily." Corban said, smiling at the idea developing. "Remember when the Dark Lord would make us go on those nightly raids?"

Lucius merely nodded.

"I say, we gather around, like old times, and show those pathetic creatures we are still a force to be reckon with."

Yaxley's smile became contagious when Nott senior had joined in with a passion. "The dark lord may be gone, but, we are still here. And we can't have them thinking they're safe! They all need to know we are still watching them."

Carrow, a split wide grin, was overjoyed. "Exactly! And what better way to do this, is by bringing along our Lord's very own heir!"

"And who knows… Maybe your nephew will come to enjoy it." Nott said confidently.

The men in room all let out a laugh and cheer.

Eyes widened, he takes a step back. A horrible expression played across his face, Mortimer didn't want to hear anymore.

Lucius' laughter came through with the rest. However, one problem remained. "As much as I enjoy the idea, Narcissa will never allow it."

Rolling his eyes, Corban, pats Malfoy lightly on the shoulder. "Your wife doesn't need to know anything about what we're going to do – That's why it's done during the night, when every women and child is asleep."

Nott nods eagerly. "Indeed. A great and wonderful opportunity to show the next generation of wizards. And who better than their next lord. . ."

Their loud boasting bravos muted the sound of Mortimer closing the door.

"Tobey? Tobey!" Mortimer calls out, the door to his room busting open.

The sound of the door slamming shut brings out the dark, white striped, reptile to come from its enclosure. He watches the panic in his master's face. "Master?"

"Tobey, pack your things." Without ever looking at his companion, he digs in his closet to retrieve one of his trunks.

Lucius was crazy to think if he'd ever agree to do such awful things. The raids Yaxley had mention, Mortimer knew what that meant. Setting places on fire, kidnapping muggles from their homes, spreading unnecessary fear among the innocent.

Shaking his head, he couldn't do it – Wouldn't.

Plopping the heavy trunk on his beside, Mortimer proceeds shoving clothes and personal items inside. "We're leaving."

Aware that this idea is incredibly stupid and will only enrage the Malfoy's, Mortimer didn't think he could face them. Now that Lucius had made his intentions clear, he couldn't wuss out. The other wizards would reconsider their opinion, inclining to believe Lucius, he needed to keep a low cover.

"Where?" Confused, the snake can only watch as the boy tosses a bunch of briefs.

"I don't know – Somewhere far away."

Where specifically? He had no clue. If he really wanted to hide, he'd go to the muggle world. They would never look there. Than the idea to go to Diagon Alley, the nearest place from here. An issue with that is he'd probably be recognized by some of the wizards, maybe even run into a few classmates. Than again, going back to the non-magical world, he'd be even more blind and without the assistance of magic, he wouldn't last the day.

For now, Diagon Alley, seemed like the best bet.

As puzzled as Mortimer was, he was glad to find Tobey obeying the very least.

Doing what he was told, Tobey didn't really have any possessions he'd call his own.

The glass cage he was kept was forest themed, where a log settled in the corner, it was where he kept most things. Those things being food and strangely the cowboy hat Luna had made him.

"Ready."

His hands in a cold sweat, he was done packing when he forces his own weight on top of the wooded trunk.

Retrieving his wand, he aimed and casted. "Reducio."

Immediately, his trunk shrinks and rests lightly on the mattress. Finishing, he removes the annoying, irritating dress robes and decides to change into darker, concealing, attire.

Grabbing the palm sized case, he puts it inside his pocket and then moves to grab Tobey. Before leaving, he went to a small cupboard that rested near his beside. Secretly, it's where he kept a small bag of galleons, should he ever need it.

"Let's go."

Once he felt satisfied, Mortimer made his way throughout the home's corridors. Eyeing every corner, he didn't want to risk being spotted.

He was quite aware that there were still people roaming around the outside of the mansion. The party may have been partially over, but at this point in the night, it became a sort of casual hangout.

Tobey, resting on over his shoulder, was beginning to worry. Had his master lost his mind? Of course, he was in no position to be questioning, he was here to serve. "Let me roam the grounds. I will call when it is safe."

A nod, Mortimer grabs his companion and lets him slither ahead.

The area was mostly secured, empty. By the time he made it to the outside of the door, a problem emerges.

How was he going to get out of here? They were in a secluded, isolated area. Surrounded by a large forest, he doubted civilization was beyond those woods. And he also didn't think walking was an option, least he wanted to get himself lost.

The floo; perhaps? No – They'd immediately sense it. An idea then pops.

Draco's Nimbus…

Recalling, Draco often left his broom inside a storage shed just passing the gardens. He'd have to be extra careful, both Draco and Aunt Cissy were still out there, and so were the other death eater's.

Frowning, he quickly ran to the side of the grounds. There was series of bushes that provided the perfect cover. He could still hear music playing in the background, while the voices of socializing witches rang. He could almost see aunt cissy talking with Mrs. Parkinson. Not far off was Theo and Draco watching as Crabbe slowly fell asleep.

"Where'd Mortimer go?" A low tone, Mortimer could hear Theo asking.

"Probably already went to sleep." Rolling his silver eyes, let it be known that the birthday boy would leave his own party and rest on an early night. "A real drag, I tell you."

Theo laughs. "Maybe he went to go hide from Pansy. Did you see the way she dragged him? Who knew she had strength."

"Also a possibility."

Fearing he'd be caught, Mortimer wastes no time as he rapidly leaves the garden. Running towards the little shed, it didn't take him long to reach before finding himself digging frantically inside until he found it.

The nimbus two thousand and one.

Nervous, he wasn't an expert flyer like Draco. He could barely get a grip on the handle."Right, Tobey. . . Say goodbye to this cruel world." Dramatically placing his arm over his forehead.

Nervous, he was really going to go through with this. He was actually running away. Funny. He didn't think he'd ever consider doing it, least not with Malfoy. With Nana, he's always dreamed of leaving. Sadly, being a mere boy and having no sense of direction, it didn't seem possible.

However, this was different. The Malfoy's were his family. They took him in, provided for him, cared for him. What about Aunt Cissy? Was he really going to hurt her over something that may or may not happen? Perhaps they won't go through their plans. If they do, than they can do it without him.

Gripping the broomstick tightly, there was doubt. Was he really going to turn his back on them?

"Bye, Bye." Tobey says, hiding inside his masters shirt.

No, of course not….This was temporary. Nodding to himself, he tries to convince his guts into thinking this was for the best. He'll come back once the idea of drafting him into becoming a death eater leaves his uncle's foolish mind.

In one swift move Mortimer lifts his legs up and steers the broom. Automatically, whisking himself up to the night sky.

The was a bad idea! A very bad idea!

Struggling to stay a float, the speed at which he was flying was untamable. The wind hitting his hair, air pushing back his cheeks, causing him to squint to regain some sort of vision.

The air becoming too much, he nearly loses control several times. He's not sure how far he's gotten or whether he was even remotely close to his destination.

Maybe he should've paid more attention in flying classes.

The idea of being lost didn't bode well with him either that he decides to descend towards better ground. Lowering his head, he can spot various of orbs of light. Unfortunately, being the driver he was, bunglingly lowers the broom and in turn, loses his balance.

The fall wasn't as bad, just humiliating to anyone watching. He ends up tripping and stumbling onto a hard wet concrete road, the broom sliding far left while his wand bounces off a near pavement, setting off random sparks of light as it cools down.

Studying his surroundings, he could tell he was somewhere in London. Street light posts were on, visibly showing a near empty cul-de-sac. The row of buildings appeared as clones, look alike houses that used burgundy bricks for their exteriors.

Thankfully, no one around to see him. Yet, that wasn't forgetting the fact that he was completely lost.

Composing himself, he wipes of the wet grovel over his trousers, grabbing Draco's now smudged broom. He starts walking towards the sidewalk, heading down towards the next street.

"Are we lost?"

Catching Tobey's question, he murmurs to his companion, eyeing for any strangers. "Lost? Pffft – No way."

Bringing the broom closer to him, he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. The outside skies was all but bathed in stars of the early night and from Mortimer's grimace, he wasn't pleased to find himself in this situation.

In a few strides, Mortimer crossed the street, driving vehicles passing by. Cold wind blew pass him, he appeared frailer somehow. The would-be traveler had never thought he would come to this point, and later regret it. Now he was soon to call himself homeless, with no plan, no solution, nor a single idea as how to avoid sleeping on the street.

Maybe he should have thought this through. . . No matter, he'd find a way.

Fifteen minutes of continuous silence, a loud horn sound had him on his feet.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

Turning his head, he's suddenly blinded by a bright harsh light that was approaching him with great speed. It occurred to him then that the vehicle in question was a big tall bus. A triple-decker bus that was purple in visuals.

Disheveled and wobbly, the bus stopped with a hard force, he was sure everyone inside had been thrown down against the floor.

Another loud honk, Mortimer peers around before coming towards the questionable bus. Once he does, the doors slide open, he was greeted by a sight of scruffy looking man, who had dirt smudges over his face.

"You comin' in or what?" The man questions, scratching his nose as he waits.

His head tilts to the side. "Excuse me?"

When the slattern man noted Mortimer's confused expression, he suddenly turns to his coat pocket.

Patting himself down, the man starts digging inside his pockets. Cursing, Mortimer observed the dusty man until he finally took out what appeared to be a card note.

Nonchalantly, he holds the card to his face before reading out loud. "Welcome to-to the knight bus. . ." Muttering. "e-emergency trans-transport for the stranded witch and wizard –"

The man's fumbling words, the only thing audible was his name. "My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be you-your con-co-cond –"

Mortimer's dull expression was kind enough to finish for him. "Conductor."

"Right – That word." Placing the card back into his coat, he offers his hand. "That'll be el'ven sickles."

His eyes were half-lidded, body beginning to wear down, Mortimer decides to pay, curious to where this might take him. "Destination?" Shunpike asks.

Exasperated, mostly with how things were going, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Diagon Alley."

Stepping inside bus, he was surprised there were no chairs to sit on, only beds, one of which was occupied by another fellow.

Not wanting to question things any further, he moves towards the end of the bus, angrily pushing pass the many curtains that were smacking his face. Ignoring the snoring passengers, brushing off many of the arms that were dangling from the beside. Setting the broom in a corner, he was able to plop himself on one of the dusty worn off mattress. He believed his request was short and simple. Little did he know, it was not the case. For soon, Mortimer found himself flying across all directions of the bus.

The driver spent the traveling time from an empty neighborhood to a crowded town within seconds. Mortimer wasn't sure how far they were going, only that they were going through unbelievable, dangerous, speeds.

Another five minutes passes until he was able to tolerate the speed. At which point, had thrown his body onto the un-sanitized bed.

He continued to detach himself from the environment by staring straight into the ceiling.

I am so dead.

Words that kept repeating. He wonders if they've been aware of his absence. Picturing what kind of faces Draco was making when he finds his Nimbus gone. The panic Aunt Cissy might go through and Lucius' growing resentment for him.

It wasn't worth thinking about. It was too late. He's went through the plan, damning himself to punishment when they find him, there was no point in wondering further.

And yet, dread seeped right through his bones. Mortimer had thrown away his second-chance at life. Turning away from the family that took him in, that only wanted to help him as well as keeping him from worse fates. The continuing pattern would only help in isolating them back, there'd be no trust. Making him miserable for the rest of his life, swallowed in guilt.

Maybe if he explained to Aunt Cissy why he did it, the fallout wouldn't be as bad. Would she believe him? A different story. Draco refused to hear the fact that his father was the one to cause the events of the chamber being opened. If Draco didn't believe Mortimer, whose to say his wife would do the same? They were a family that strongly believed in one another. Nothing could separate them from their devotion. Who was he to ruin that?

"Mortimer?"

Immediately, his body goes cold. Tensing when he realizes who it is.

All thoughts, swiftly snatched at the sound of a nosy meddlesome gryffindor.

A single huff of air, he sits up.

Harry Potter, appearing unsure and uncomfortable, staring down on him with genuine bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"

Mortimer didn't react to his sudden appearance, rather, moved his eyes to the side. "Resting."

"I mean what are you doing here – at the bus? Aren't suppose to be with the Malfoy's? Where's Draco?"

Mortimer's fingers twitched. Coming up with a lie, he answers. "I went off for an adventure."

Wearing an annoyed, but curious, expression, Harry took his response with a grain of salt. "Did Malfoy sent you to track me?"

Completely false, Mortimer was sure it was what Harry believed in. Because everything in this world has to revolve around the chosen one. It was infuriating. "No." Clearing his throat. "I really did wanted to go out. . . It's my birthday."

Harry was taken aback, feeling near bad for accusing him. "Your birthday? Today's your birthday?"

Mortimer nodded. "Yeah. My aunt threw this giant party – It was mostly for the sake of reputation – I just wanted a day to do what ever I wanted. What about you? What are you doing out here so late?"

It was now Harry's turn to share in the nerve-wreaking interrogating game he's created. "I –"

The bus turns a corner and both boys were thrown on the right side. In Mortimer's case, the bed he laid glided aggressively, crashing while Harry was tossed like an old sack.

Mortimer was quick to recover. When he did, he jumps off the bed to help Harry of the floor. "Are you ok?"

Adjusting himself, Harry nods. "Yeah, thanks." Fixing his round spectacles, he mutters. "Uh – Happy Birthday."

Dragging his gaze away from the thoughtful gesture. Not mentioning Lucius' part, he was somewhat truthful in his confession. That's not to forget why Harry refused to go back to the subject.

"Do-Do you want to join up front?" Potter asked. "A lot more space." Gesturing his hands, he points to the many bodies that surrounded them.

Normally he would say no and send him off – However, being unkind or unfriendly, Potter would start thinking he was hiding something. "Sure."

Turning over, Harry starts walking to the front. "Where were you heading anyways?"

Following him, he sets aside about today's events. "I'm not sure. I've never celebrated my birthday –"

Crap! Mortimer internally curses.

Harry stops to face him. "What do you mean? What about your muggle family?"

"I-I meant – I don't see why people make a big fuss over birthdays. You know? Why can't we have cake and call it a day? Seems a bit excessive." Mortimer shrugged.

This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. Nor did he want stand in the middle of this chaotic vehicle, having to make up lies.

"Right." Harry said flatly, his narrow gaze flickering over him with intrigue and consideration.

If he excuse was dubious, Harry made sure to keep it to himself. Mortimer was just relieved to find him walking again.

When they reached the front of the bus, they both sat beside one another. In an effort to kill the awkwardness, Mortimer decides to move the conversation. "How's the summer treating you?"

Studying Harry's tightened body, Mortimer could tell something was weighing him down. "Fine. I'm a bit relieved to be going back to Hogwarts, if I'm being honest." Harry responds.

That makes two of us. Mortimer thought. Haven't forgotten about Lucius and his parade of fanatics. "You won't have to wait any longer. A few weeks and we're back at it again, right?"

"Yeah." Sitting back, Harry relaxed for a bit. "Ready to go back to being rivals?"

Never recalling ever being enemies, Mortimer was sure he was joking. It wasn't as amusing as he might've found it. That is because Mortimer had tried keeping the pureblood image away from himself. Hoping the other children would take notice and make them second guess their opinion.

"You know, we don't have to be enemies." Mortimer pushing an idea.

The conductor, Stan, thought this would be good place to relax as he takes out a wizarding newspaper.

"You mean like… What? – Be friends?" Harry asked, looking back at him in puzzlement.

"I wouldn't go that far. . ." Mortimer quietly said, playing with his finger. "I mean – Be civil. I may not like you and you might feel the same, but that doesn't mean we can't act like normal people. We have a few years together before we actually graduate and with Draco not making this any easier… Why not make it tolerable?"

Harry pauses, attempting to see a flaw in Mortimer's blank stare. "That would be great. Do you think you can get Malfoy to shove off while your at it?"

Shaking his head, Mortimer chuckles. "Not all the magic in this world could ever get him to back off."

Sharing the same reaction, he was quite sad to hear this as well. "If only it were possible."

Things were progressively quiet. The ride was tolerable, it became crazier when the bus turned at every corner, still enough to bear. Mortimer was just happy to avoid motion sickness.

Harry began talking to the conductor, taking notice of the news article he was reading, "That man – He was on the muggle news."

Pointing at the article, Mortimer was able to view the picture of a man with a hollowed out face, appearing grim and empty.

Mortimer wasn't too sure about this particular person he was seeing, he seemed familiar but couldn't quite place it. "Who?"

"What're you livin' in a cave?" Stan said in disbelief. "What abou't you Neville? You really ought' to read the newspaper more."

Handing the newspaper to Harry, he held it so that the two of them could read.

The title of the article, 'Black Still At Large', followed by the words Sirius Black and infamous prisoner. The man has apparently avoided being captured after his escape. Known for the murder of thirteen people, in broad daylight, he accomplished this with a single curse. Those from the muggle world were notified about this as well, only difference here that he was described as a mad man carrying a gun. The minister himself fearing the escapee, he made sure everyone was aware of Sirius Black.

"Scary lookin' thing, ain't he?" Stan quietly told, noting their observation of the man.

Harry was at a loss the further he examined the prisoner's dangerous, ghostly appearance. "So, he murdered thirteen people. . . with one curse?"

"Right, he did." He explained, "In front of witnesses n' broad daylight. The mess was massive! Ain't that right, ern?"

The man Ern grumbles behind the wheel.

"Black was a supporter of you-know-who." Nodding adamantly. "He was –"

"A supporter of Voldemort?" Harry asked carelessly.

The conductor, Stan, squeaked in terror. At the same time, Ern, the driver, turned the wheel tightly, causing the bus to be violently pushed.

Mortimer nearly falling off his seat, rumbles his throat in annoyance. "What are you trying to do? Get us killed?"

Stan agreeing with the nameless boy, nodded, nearly grousing, his body shaken. "Blimey, why'd chu say his name for?"

Harry, apologizing immediately, had forgotten the effect it had on the public. "I'm sorry! I forgot."

"Forgot? You did?" Holding his chest. It was clear, Stan was still trying to compose himself. "Think' I can still hear my heart goin' fast."

Harry didn't want to lose the conversation, so he went on to ask. "So, you're saying Black supported you-know-who?"

Stan, letting out a heavy breath before responding. "He did – Very close to him, he was. After baby 'Arry Potter sacked you-know-who off, most of his supporters came in quietly. They knew it wos over, but not Sirius Black." Telling the story was giving him the chills. "Heard he was you-know-who's second-in-command."

Hearing the conductor talk, Harry's attention was glued to every word he was hearing. Mortimer sat back, avoiding any eye contact, staring at the view window.

"They found Black in the middle of the street, full of muggles and everythin'. Black took out his 'wond and blasted the whole thing apart! A wizard got it, an' so did a dozen muggles, those in the way. Horrible ain't it." He finished, grief-stricken, he asked Harry. "An' you know what he did next?"

Harry, sharing the same doleful expression, replied. "What?"

"He laughed." Stan said quietly, gobsmacked that someone was capable of such a thing. "He stood there an laughed. Even when support came in, he wos still laughing. Mad ain't he? Jus' bloody mad, right Ern?"

"If he wasn't mad then, Azkaban will surely do it." Ern suddenly spoke. "I would rather blow myself up than ever stepping foot in that sorry sordid place." Shaking his head. "After what he did. . . he deserves to rot in there."

Mortimer, his arms folded, couldn't help but ask. "And what did the muggles have to say about this? A whole street? Wouldn't be so easy to cover up."

Expecting Stan to respond, it was Ern who had the answer. "Gas explosion."

"That's right Ern'" Stan confirmed. "An' now he's out an' about. No one's ever escaped Azkaban befor', wonder how he manage that, you reckon? Frightin'" He shook. "Think he can go against them azkaban guards, Ern?"

Ern, watching the wheel, quivered. "Now there's a scary thought. Those guards are something else – Give me the shivers, they do."

Ultimately, Stan took back his newspaper before silently residing himself to silence.

It was big story, no doubt. Unable to rid the thoughts of what that could mean for him, Harry sat back.

Unknowingly, he turned his head to study Mortimer, who has all but avoided their faces.

"What?" Mortimer grumbled.

Making sure Stan, or anyone else, wasn't hearing, Harry made an unpleasant inquiry. "Do you know anything about this?"

Immediately, his face turns grim. "What makes you think I know anything? Thought we already talked about this?"

"We did. But. . . I thought maybe you might have heard - known something."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mortimer was already regretting civility with the gryffindor boy. "I live in the middle of nowhere. Aside from the fact, my Aunt would never allow me to find out. She says it's to protect me, but really, it's just her not wanting me to find out the truth."

Harry's dark head, hopped in interest. "Truth? What truth?"

"About everything." Spreading his arms in gesture. "About my mother, my father. . . everything I hate about being the renowned heir."

Before Harry could say more, they were soon interrupted by Stan's query. "Say, you guy's hear abou' 'Arry Potter? Bloo up his Aunt. 'Robably rode the knight bus to make a run for it, eh? Ern?"

A single questioning brow rose from Mortimer as he stared at Harry. Mortified, Harry had shielded his eyes with a flat palm, ashamed.

"You don't say?" Mortimer gasped, feeling chipper. "Please, Tell me more."

Stan nods, preparing to tell him yet another exciting tale of the boy-who-lived and how he came to blow up roly-poly, Aunt Marge.

Arriving at dawn, Mortimer and Harry carried dark bags under their eyes. Having the roughest sleep of their lives. Unfortunately, it was hard to fully rest when you were constantly being thrown around.

Regardless, they were all too happy to be leaving. Harry, studied the sky while Mortimer stretched, cracking his neck a few times.

"Tobey?" Mortimer called, opting not to use parseltongue in front of the public.

"I'm here, Master." Tobey responded underneath his shirt.

Hearing the familiar sound of the serpent sound, Harry stops and asks. "You brought your pet?"

Still trying to wake up, Mortimer rubs his eyes. "Of course, I wouldn't just leave him. Just like you probably wouldn't leave your owl."

Nodding, Harry could relate and so, didn't comment any further.

They were dropped of at Diagon Alley, more specifically, a battered-looking pub known as the Leaky Cauldron. Stan and Harry went to retrieve his trunk. During which, Mortimer had decided to carry Hedwig's cage. Surprised when the bird didn't protest, he rested the cage outside the pavement when they returned.

They haven't been out of the bus for more than a minute before Harry's name was being called by a man, who appeared to have been waiting for him. "There you are, Harry."

The name escaping the man's mouth, Stan Shunpike jumped in excitement. "What was that? Whaddya say? Minister –" He pointed. "about Neville?"

"Neville?" The man, known to be Minister Fudge himself, seemed confused. "You mean Harry Potter, here." He places a hand on his shoulder.

Stan yelled towards the inside of the bus. "I knew it! Ern' Ern' C'mere! Look! It's 'Arry Potter! I can even see the scar' n' everything."

Embarrassed for his life, Harry was somewhat relieved when Minister Fudge pulled Harry inside the Leaky Cauldron.

"Would you reckon that?" Stan told Mortimer. "'Arry Potter, here, riding the knight bus, can you believe it?"

Responding to the star-struck conductor, Mortimer sarcastically said. "No I do not."

"Yeah me either'." Staring at where Harry and Fudge had disappeared. "Say. . . I never did ask, wot's your name?"

Staring at his own feet, Mortimer responded coolly, "Mortimer. . . Porton." leaving the knight bus, Mortimer went on ahead to enter the Leaky Cauldron.

He approaches the front desk. Behind it, was the pub's owner, Tom. "Aye', what can I do for you, boy?"

Mortimer simply states, dropping a gallon on top of the desk. "A room."

Seeing the tiredness in his eyes, Tom gave a mere nod, taking the gallon. "That'll do you good for three nights."

His voice drowsy, he responds. "Great."

"Are you alone here?" Tom probed. "Aren't you a bit young to be off on your own?"

"I," Mortimer boldly says. "happen to be very mature for my age. And besides, aren't you a bartender?"

"I am."

"So. . . tend. . . the. . . bar." He voiced, exhausted, he holds his hand out for a key.

Tom, grumbling underneath his breath, turns around and walks near a small cabinet. Taking one of the keys, he closes it before making his way towards the tired boy. "Room Nine."

The keys handed to him, Mortimer graciously takes them, heading towards the stairs, he expected his room to look as foul as it did downstairs.

Once he makes it to room nine, he was pleasantly amazed to find it quite welcoming. Despite it not having the luxurious furniture and high end space he had back home, it was seemed enough for him to get comfortable. A basic bed with Lavender blankets resting on top, a cardinal sofa that was set on the side of the room. A dark wooded cabinet for essentials along with a bathroom that seemed relatively clean. An overall bland room, which was more than enough for him.

Taking out his trunk, he places it down on the wooded floor. Retrieving his wand once more he waves it and points. "Engorgio."

For nearly an hour, Mortimer planted all his possession away. It was more of a distraction. To keep him away from thinking about what he had just done a couple of hours ago.

Surely by now, they've noticed he was now missing. He wondered what they were doing this very moment. Were they looking for him? Have they alerted anyone about his disappearance?

Ruffling his hair, he looks out the window. It was still too early for anyone to be up. Deciding to take a nap, Mortimer removed what little clothes he had and jumped right into bed.

"Tobey, wake me up if there's any trouble." He yawned, wrapping himself around the covers, he tussled before closing his eyes.

The last thing he heard was Tobey's obeying tone as he slithers out of his neck. "Yes, Master."