"Master."
A runaway. He was a runaway who had left his home over a notion that was invented by a group of one-sided wizards. It was an idea that could or could not have happened. Whether they actually went through it, it was without a doubt no longer the case. Considering Lucius' attention was now fixated on the missing boy.
"Master."
He can only imagine the heartbreak in his Aunt's face as she realizes she can longer find him. Leaving her confused, without so much as an explanation, of his own absence.
"Master..."
There was also the betrayal trickling down from Draco. Leaving him in the dark, it was undeniable that he'd ask questions. The answers, however, were one's he couldn't handle without damaging the image he had for his father.
"Master, wake up."
As he lays there with his eyes closed, Mortimer feels a warm, scaly skin rubbing against his head running down his cheek.
"Mmm. . . Five… minutes." Murmuring, Mortimer pulls the covers over his head.
"Master, you have a visitor, behind the door." The dark reptile spoke, moving above the covers. "It's the other speaker."
Hearing this, Mortimer emits a tired puff. It was too early to be dealing with Potter. Honestly, he expected once they've arrived at their destination, they would go on their separate ways. Why on earth was he bothering him now?
Small various knocks emerge from the other side and Mortimer clenches his eyes shut. Thinking the pounding will only increase, he pushes the blankets away. He wasn't descent at the moment, but didn't really care. The boy had ruined his sleep, therefor, should not make an effort to appear conventional.
Wearing only a pair of dark briefs and a sleeveless tank top, he aggressively stomps to the door. Opening it with stress, it causes his hair to be pushed back by the air.
Coming to face the chosen one, again, Mortimer gritted, his hand on the door knob. "What is it now Potter?"
Harry was unprepared to counter a cranky Mortimer that he decides to make things brief. "I wanted to know if maybe… you'd like to join me downstairs, for breakfast. Since it seems like were both staying here for a while."
Majority of his face has been covered by his dark jumbled hair that it was hard to tell his expression. "What makes you say that?"
Eyeing the inside of the room cautiously, Harry notices. "I can see your trunk over there." He points to the corner. "And your still here. You could've gone back home whenever you wanted."
Resting his head on the side of the door, Mortimer peers at Harry. "True. But then again, it's really none of your business now, isn't it?"
"I won't ask." Holding his hands up in surrender, Harry doesn't share his gaze. "I'm simply trying to be civil… remember?"
Ah, he recalls well. Yet, the agreement was meant for the school grounds. He never mentioned anything outside of Hogwarts. Than again, Mortimer could see that Potter was really trying to be friendly, a bit too much for his taste, still it was an effort Mortimer found fulfilling.
"Yeah." Scratching an itch in his back, Mortimer looks back to his room. "Give me five minutes. I'll meet you downstairs."
Nodding, Harry was relieved at his acceptance. When the door closed, he headed down to the pub's dining area.
With Harry's departure, Mortimer was able to close the door. Still groggy, he mopes to the bathroom. Washing his face and brushing his teeth, he thought more about what he was going to do.
First things first, he needed a owl.
Thinking this more logically, he knows he should at least try to make a little bit of contact. Let his Aunt know that he was safe. At which point, should probably come up with a proper reason as to why he stupidly left. Currently, there's not an excuse he could come up with, one that could justify his actions. Taking into account that it happened so suddenly, the bitter reality is he left because he was scared.
Scared of Lucius and the other death eaters, their plans for him and the results, should he refuse. It sounds stupid to admit, the last thing he wanted to be seen as was a coward. A weak, scared coward who couldn't stomach the idea of hurting someone.
Then again, violence wasn't something that was entirely new to him. He had his fair share. Yet, didn't divulge into it too much. It was easy to fall towards the temptation of crushing your enemies. Seeing the fear in the victim's face, knowing that in one movement their lives would be over.
There were still moments in his life where he had thought about it. The countless times he wanted to curse the living air out of the people who tormented him, glared at, scoffing at him in distaste. That small itch in the back of his head, still lingered. Telling him to hurt them before they could do the same.
"Stop it." He says out loud. Yet, there was no one around to hear it. The command itself was made for his own, to stop the continuing thoughts that kept him inside.
Mortimer didn't want to think about it any further. He instead leaves the bathroom and gets dressed. The clothes he had were expensive, it showed in design. Wearing it will expose his wealth, bring in attention from the other wizards. They'd stop to find out what family he resides and for that reason alone, he knew he needed a better disguise.
Maybe after he was done eating, he'd go to the muggle shops and purchase clothes far more comfortable.
For now, he wears a plain white short sleeve shirt with dark trouser. Studying the outfit, he exhales, reminded of those religious groups that'd go door to door, recruiting for potential followers, he was embarrassed to face anyone who might think he was carrying a bible.
Minutes of endless debating, he leaves the room. Moving across the small hallway, he climbs downstairs to find the pub already near packed.
There was a hand waving in the air. Getting a closer look, he finds Harry already seated with a plate being served to him.
The table was in front of pub, with a window view, he watches bystanders walking pass the bar. "I already ordered, if that's alright."
Mortimer stands for a few seconds until he popped open a seat for himself. There was a questioning expression coming from Potter. "Aren't you going to eat?"
In all honesty, Mortimer didn't think he could eat right now. His stomach in knots, wouldn't accept anything aside from a good kick. "I'm not really hungry."
"Does it have something to do with you running away?" Said Harry, swirling his plate with a spoon, he had ordered a soup, along with a basket of bread.
Resting his elbow on the table, his other hand began tapping away in distraction. "Yeah." Mortimer admitted.
"Will you tell me why you ran away?" Harry asked, if he was lucky enough, perhaps he'd a little information.
Mortimer's gaze was stuck to his hands. "No."
"Did Malfoy do something?" Harry persisted, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth.
Nettled, he kept the truth to himself. "No."
"Then why –"
"I thought you said you weren't going to ask questions." He flatly says, turning his head to the window he watches the public.
"You're right." Nodding, Harry responds. "But don't you find it strange that we bump into each other at the same time? How do I know you weren't following me?"
"I didn't blow up my Aunt if that's what you're asking." Sitting back, he watches Potter's expression turn into nervousness. "Not so fun when someone else meddles in your business, huh?"
Reaching over for his spoon, he gives Mortimer a glare before going quiet, eating his morning meal. A small victory, Mortimer smiles.
Changing the subject, Mortimer asks. "So, what do you plan to do until the term starts?"
Harry shrugs. An entirely new experience for him, he was never allowed this kind of freedom, part of him was kind of lost on what to do. "I'm not sure. I guess stay here, probably head into diagon alley. Minister Fudge says I'm not allowed to go into the muggle world."
A knowing glance was sent Harry's way, as he noticed the deep expression settle in his face at the current news. "What about you?" Harry returns the question. "How long do you plan on staying?"
"I-I don't know." Thinking back at the idea of contacting Aunt Cissy. "I need an owl before I decide to do anything."
"You could use mine." Harry offered. Regardless of who this letter might be going to, he believed Mortimer wouldn't bring any harm to Hedwig.
Pursing his lips, he thought about the potential danger in using his owl. Not only will Malfoy know he was alive – Worse, he was with Potter. "Thanks. But, I don't think that's good idea."
Harry, stating the obvious. "Because they'd know?"
Sitting rigid in posture, no longer sitting back. "Yeah. I'm already in enough trouble. And no offense, if they find me with you, I'll never see the light of day."
Thinking deeply about his words, Harry felt somewhat concerned for him. Hearing that undeniable fear in his voice he wondered what it was like to live with the Malfoy's. "Malfoy. . . They treat you… good, right?"
Pausing. Mortimer couldn't believe it. Does Potter think they abuse him? That couldn't be right. They would never. Despite what he's said about them, he knows they would never really harm him. At least not in the way that others have.
Shaking off the disbelief, Mortimer straightened his back. "They do. It's fine, they're fine – Everything is fine." A subtle, yet noticeable, panic in his tone explains. "I'm not exactly on good terms right now, considering I just ran away. So it's probably best if I don't do anything to upset them further than I already have."
"Do you have a plan?" Curious, Harry takes a sip from his bowl.
"Yes and no. . ." His forehead creased in thought. "I just need time to think."
Their table got quiet again. While Harry ate, Mortimer orders a tea to get through the day. Letting the customers do the talking, Mortimer remains with own thoughts. Harry however, appeared to be listening intently by a small group of wizards. He could tell because of the undoubted worry in their voices.
Saying his name as if it were a curse. "D'ya hear about Sirius Black?" A rugged old wizard, with a short beard muttered. "Heard he's been hiding among them non-magical folk."
Another wizard, nods, wearing the same frightened look. "Aye, I would to, had I been running away from those guards – it's only a matter of time before they catch up to him. Merlin knows, you can't outrun them forever."
"Where do you think he's at?" A bald wizard wearing glasses, asks. "He can't be just hiding all day."
"A mad wizard like him, I'd wouldn't be surprised if we were to find him here at this very spot, listening in on the conversation." The old wizard said, weary, he looks around the pub.
Now, a short restless silence spreads between the two. Harry speaks. "What do you think about him escaping?"
Mortimer's eyes were tired, he merely shrugs. "As long as he doesn't bother me, I could care less."
That wasn't the respond he was looking for. Seeing as they were family, Harry could only assume that the infamous prisoner would ask for help, by his family no less. "Would he ever come to you for help?"
It takes Mortimer seconds to frown. "No he would not. And before you ask another dumb question – No I would not help him. He probably doesn't even know I exist."
His eyes tries to catch any hint of a lie. "Did Malfoy ever tell you about Black?"
"No." Rubbing a hand over his face, he remained passive. "I already told I don't know anything. Aside from what I read, he's part of the largest, oldest, wizarding family – Practically related to every known family. I can go into depth… But I don't think you're really interested in hearing me talk about the family tree."
"What about you?" Tilting his head, he starts staring out into the window before turning back to him.
"Me? You could say I am a direct member. I was given my mother's surname after all." Stretching his neck, just mentioning the name had him timid.
A notion Harry often had to think on. Why is that exactly? Seeing the way Voldemort flaunted his Slytherin name, along with his so-called pureblood, Harry figured he'd brag at the chance to showoff his only son. And if it wasn't Voldemort being pretentious, certainly, his mother would jump at the opportunity to tell the whole world that his precious Lord lives on through Mortimer.
"What are you thinking about?"
Shaking his head, Harry noted that his bowl was now empty. "Why give you the name Black?" Careful, Harry says. "Why not your other name?"
He thinks about this for a while, "Probably because he ordered it." His father may be a showoff, but he wasn't stupid.
Lost in the endless maze, trying to escape his own thoughts, Mortimer needed to forget about the Dark Lord and his crazed fan. Instead, his attention was required elsewhere.
For starters, he'll need to head into Diagon Alley, more specifically Gringotts, exchanging his Galleons for Pounds. Afterwards, rid himself of these awful clothing and go for something more casual. And finally, go to the wizarding post, borrow an owl and with enough patience, Aunt Cissy might reply sooner.
Rising to his feet, Mortimer cones to an agreement of sorts, it wasn't much but it was something. "See you around, Potter." Placing three sickles on the table, he starts making his towards the back of the pub.
"Right – see you."
Leaving Potter behind, the keeper of pub, Tom, gave Mortimer a single nod. letting him pass the front desk that would lead him to the back.
Coming to face a plain brick wall, Mortimer takes out his wand. In one motion, he taps his wand against the material, sliding it up three and two across.
He waits patiently, watching the wall shake as it turns into a large archway, creating a passage between muggle London and the wizarding world.
Cruising in the busy streets of Diagon Alley, there were many shops promoting the latest of products for their shops. An already large crowd, that consisted of mostly children, all gazed outside the quidditch shop. Mortimer didn't need to look to know that they've brought in a new broom model for the year.
New species of owls and birds were also brought inside Eeylops Owl Emporium. Various of the creatures could be seen outside the window, flapping their wings, they attracted many customers to the stand.
But watching birds and owls wasn't the reason he was here today. Without stopping, Mortimer was drawing near the end of Diagon Alley, any more steps and he'd be heading into a much more shady territory, Knockturn Alley.
Fortunately for him, he didn't make it far as his destination to gringotts was already set.
Approaching the white marbled building, Mortimer went through the revolving doors. Quietly, he pacing to the main desk, his footsteps clanking with each step, he's ignored by goblins.
Once he arrives, the gigantic desk towers over him as he could hardly see over. "Yes?" The unknown Goblin grumbles, lowering his head for a better view.
Clearing his throat, Mortimer says. "I want to my exchange galleons for muggle currency."
Dropping twenty galleons onto the desk, the goblin led out a low growl, taking the currency, he leaves for a few minutes before coming back. "Will that be all for today?"
"Yes." He's not sure about goblin customs, but offers a low bow. "Thank you."
Stepping out of the bank, he quickly comes down the steps, heading back into the cobbled street. It was for the most part uneventful. And by the time he made it to muggle London, the afternoon had begun.
It felt strange, being out again, in the world where he grew up. A many of first, never in his life did he think he would ever find himself roaming the streets of London. Without anyone hanging over him, telling him what to do.
Regular people walking throughout the pavement of the streets. Not a wizard or witch in sight. No one wore robes or long dresses that reminded him of the Victoria era, they were people who wore plain, modern clothing. Cars driving by, honking at the ongoing traffic. With many of the folks coming in and out public stores, everything appeared relatively…normal.
The sky was dull, regardless of sunlight, the weather was still quite warm for the summer.
Gone astray, he scouts the streets in search of a clothing store, one that appealed to the youth.
Several minutes of walking, he turns the corner before spotting a little shop that resting between two other buildings. On the right side was a barber shop, while on the far left was an old family dinner.
Perfect.
Without a moment to lose he enters the department store. Spending a good hour in there, he ends up coming out with at least four bags clothes. He ends up wearing one of his chosen outfits. A red shirt with random designs in the middle, dark blue jeans and a pair of white sneakers.
Again, this was entirely new to him.
He was never allowed to pick his clothes, let alone buy one. Given a choice, Mortimer could hardly decide what fits and what matches.
Nana had always demanded he wear suits. Even in the scorching heat, he was to appear proper. Till this day, he was yet given the decision as Aunt Cissy had all but taken that from him.
For the most part, he was satisfied, but not entirely. He stands in front of the barber shop for a good minute.
A sudden choice, he goes inside.
Another hour later, he feels like a new man.
Patting his head, there was a soft fuzzy sensation as his finger tips touches his freshly new cut. Opting for a buzz cut, Mortimer was confident that no one would recognize him now. Then again, even he could hardly recognize himself now.
He's grown quite bit since last year, but just as Theo's father had previously stated, he was looking more like his parents each day, particularly his father.
The clear image of him, when he confronted him in the chamber. The resemblance was there. It was frightening at first, because part of Mortimer could see himself in his own father's deep dark stare.
Remembering the lack of warmth in his expression, Mortimer could see the disgust in Tom's features. Realizing that in the future he would go on and conceive, bringing Mortimer into an odd, bizarre world of magic.
There was a sigh.
Gazing up at the sky, he could tell it was now late in the afternoon. Thinking further, he knows he should probably head back into Diagon Alley and write to Aunt Cissy, God knows he's procrastinated enough.
He just hopes with any luck, they won't be too upset.
Walking back to the Leaky Cauldron, there was a substantial amount of people inside the bar.
Many taking to a good ol' drink, while others captivated by the many conversation that was going on. He hardly see beyond the counter until suddenly, Mortimer's blood turns cold with panic.
In front of the bar stood Severus Snape, approaching Tom, the owner of the pub, who seemed highly suspicious as to why the potion master was here today.
Quickly, hiding under their noses, Mortimer tries blending into a crowd of wizards. With their tall statures, he was easily covered, they'd never notice him.
At the same time, had attempted to get closer to Professor Snape and Tom.
The many voices surrounding the room, he was barely able to get a in a single word. Nonetheless, he managed to get a few feet closer.
Hearing Snape's agitated voice, he demands from Tom. "Did a boy come through here yesterday?"
"If you're talking about the Potter boy, I assure you Minister Fudge has –"
"Not him." He interrupts, his hand clenching at the mention of the gryffindor. "The other one. Shaggy hair, more so than Potter – Irritated look, might have been wearing fine clothing."
"Ah, yes –" Nodding his head Tom knew exactly who he was referring to. "Came through here this morning, along with Mr. Potter. Paid for three nights here."
Mortimer could only listen. Fearing if he were to look, Snape would immediately sense it. "Where is he now?"
"Hm… Came down here in the morning for some tea, he left only a couple of hours ago." Tom informed him, attending to a customer.
Snape's voice turns dark. "When he returns, I want you to call, immediately."
This seemed to upset Tom, for what ever reason, he became defiant. "And why should I listen to you? The boy means no harm."
Unfazed by Tom, he draws closer. "He's a runaway – My time already wasted, his guardians have tasked me to retrieve the troublesome boy."
His eyebrows rose, surprised, Tom set a few glasses down. "I see. Alright then, should he return, I will inform you."
"Good." Turning away, Mortimer quickly lowers his head, avoiding any sort of eye contact. He could feel Snape's eyes, scoping the pub. "Keep quiet about this, I don't want you scaring him off."
"I get it." Tom clearly states. "I'll keep a look out."
Worried, Mortimer witnesses as Snape leaves through the Floo. Huddled down, he waits until he was sure he was completely gone. Still, his nerves were on edge, fearing that any moment now, Snape would reappear, captured before he could explain himself.
Peering up, Tom's back was turned, giving Mortimer the opportunity to run towards the upstairs of his room.
The door shut closed, he breathes heavily, trying to shake the alarm bells in his head. Hopefully no one had spotted him, which in itself made things more difficult at the moment. For now, he is unable to go back towards Diagon Alley. Surely, Lucius had began to send in a secret search party for him. Without anyone to trust, he was doomed.
"Tobey." Mortimer calls out, tossing the bags of clothing to the side.
The dark snake, emerges from under the bed, a rat dangling from his mouth. "Master?"
"Did anyone enter while I was gone?" Frantically looking around, he searches for any hint of intruders.
"No." Tobey informs. "But there is an owl, it's been waiting for you for quite some time."
Peering over to the window. Tobey was right, there was hazel, white-feathered owl sitting on top of a flower pot, just outside his window.
A moment of hesitation, he wonders who could it be. The owl didn't belong to any of the Malfoy's, nor he doubt Professor Snape would send one so quickly. Treading softly, Mortimer approaches the window, opening it the owl comes flying in, settling on small round table.
There was a little note attached to the owl's leg. Delivering the message, Mortimer carefully takes it. Wrapped around the small piece of parchment was a simple brown button.
Confused, Mortimer read the note.
Hold on tight, and don't let go.
The button resting on his palm, he clutches it. Before he could even question it, Mortimer is suddenly pulled into a whirlwind of air.
He lets out a scream, unaware of what's going on, he feels a surge of wind and a massive hit of dizziness. Clinging to the button, the movement finally ends with Mortimer landing on a hard floor.
His eyes were still closed when he heard a voice coming from behind. "There you are my dear boy." A voice Mortimer knew well. "I was starting to worry you've ran before seeing my little note – I see you've gone for a new look, a strange choice, I admit. Still, rather fitting."
Opening his eyes, Mortimer turns his body over to face Dumbledore. Studying his surroundings, he's realizes that he's landed in Hogwarts, more specific, the headmaster's office.
He ignores the compliment and starts rubbing his temples. Mortimer get's up from the floor. "Dumbledore." He acknowledges.
"How are you my boy?" Dumbledore, resting behind desk. There were various of books flying around him. It appeared to be organizing itself. "Take a seat, I'm sure you're tired from your journey."
He's right. Mortimer was indeed tired. Tired of running that is, what he wanted was a second to stop to hiding, to explain himself.
He accepts the offered seat, sitting in front of Dumbledore, careful to not let the levitating books hit him.
Folding his hands together, Dumbledore speaks lightly. "I was hoping I'd catch you first. Seeing as how you've avoided Professor Snape, along with your relatives. I thought now would be a good time to have a chat."
"I agree." For once, Mortimer wanted to speak to someone who might actually believe him.
"Deek." Dumbledore calls out. "Would you bring Mr. Black here some refreshments – " Turning over to Mortimer. "I assume you haven't eaten all day?"
Mortimer merely nods.
Speaking aloud, again, Dumbledore commands. "And plate of food."
In only a few seconds, a pitcher of juice along with a plate of turkey sandwiches. All of which, Mortimer was glad to accept. While he ate silently, Dumbledore began to talk to the boy.
"You've ran away." He said almost in disappointment.
There was no point in lying, so Mortimer only confirms it by saying. "I did." Taking a bite.
"Why?" Curious. Dumbledore believed everything was going well for Black.
Wiping his mouth, Mortimer stares at his food, his lips pursing as he organizes his thought. However, it was useless, so instead, he throws out a single name. "Lucius."
"Mr. Malfoy?" Tilting his head, Dumbledore questions him a little further. "Has he done something to upset you?"
He's done more than that. Mortimer thought. Still, iffy about what he's heard, he has hard time putting it into a sentence. "Lucius – He… wanted me to do something." Stuffing his mouth.
Dumbledore could practically hear Mortimer's voice shaking. "No need to rush. Please, take your time – Start from the beginning."
Nodding, Mortimer takes a drink, motionlessly staring as he begins. "Aunt Cissy was throwing me a party – Everything was fine. But then, I noticed Lucius, him and a few others, being quiet, suspicious. So I followed him. I found them inside Lucius' study – I heard talking, talking about me…" Gripping the glass around his hands, he continues. "Lucius thinks I'm weak…"
Mortimer doesn't know why that particular statement bothered him so much. Out of everything that was ever said to him, it was that word alone that made him red in lividity. "Corban Yaxley was there an-and Theo's dad! They wanted to prove to Lucius that he was wrong. Yaxley came up an idea. He wanted Lucius to take me out with the others and go on a night raid – Said the future 'Dark Lord' will teach the others to do the same."
Mortimer tried not to sound too upset, though he felt a quavering sensation of nausea in his gut as he was failing to do so.
Dumbledore wasn't entirely fooled, he appears to have noticed this. The question now was whether he believed him or not. "I apologize, Mortimer." Dumbledore, his voice was hush. "I was aware of your uncle's involvement during the first war…"
Refusing to look up, the shaky boy asks. "How did he avoid being captured?"
"Mr. Malfoy has many connections. But ultimately, would go on to claim he was under the imperius cursed. The court would go on and accept this. But I knew him, and the others far more to know it was a completely false – Your mother could have avoided this as well." Shaking his head at the recollection. "Despite it all, her loyalty out weighed her other senses. And instead, would praise her work and the mission of your father's."
Mortimer was silent, momentarily stuck by the expected words. It was not hard to believe, yet had still manage to throw him off.
Dumbledore notes the strangled panic that he decides to change the topic. "I believe you, Mortimer."
Snapping his head up, merely stifled a sigh of relief. There was some sort of astonishment that he'd put forth his trust but was reminded that he wasn't entirely safe. "Then you know why I left? I don't want anything to do with them. I also don't want them to think less of me. They'll tell him the minute he returns!"
Holding his hand up, he silences the frantic boy. "I understand. But tell me this, how far are you willing to go to end this war?"
"Wh-What do mean?"
"I mean – Eventually, the war will breakout." Scratching his long snowy beard, he advises. "When it does, you will have to choose a side. In situations such as these, you can not act so recklessly. A move like this, can bring detrimental consequences. Tom is no fool, he would very much go after those that are closer to you."
Clenching his hands, he once again lowers his head, nearly snarling. "So what? You're telling me I should play along? What ever happened to not following in his footsteps?"
Shaking his head, Dumbledore wanted to avoid any worry for Mortimer. "I am merely suggesting you be more mindful before acting. In this situation, had you felt endangered, you should have called for Professor Snape. He would've notified me."
"And then what?" Mortimer's voice threatened to go shrill at the state of things.
"Then, I would've taken a proper course of action." He imagined that his words would bring in a sense of comfort, but one look at Mortimer's face, it was obvious he wasn't.
In fact, Mortimer didn't reply, didn't move. He was not one to be easily brightened, not by a few measly words. But words was all Dumbledore could afford, for he cannot be fully seen associating with the heir. "You may barrow one of the owls." He said quietly. "Worry not Mortimer. They will understand."
Mortimer found himself unsure of what Dumbledore was on about. He was confident that his life was now completely over. Still, if the headmaster had agreed with him on Lucius, then perhaps he was saved and his worry was merely paranoia.
An near empty school, Mortimer approaches the west tower. Even in the summer time, it still felt somewhat chilly inside.
Climbing the creaky steps of the tower, he could see many of the owls flying in and out of the cobbled building. The rancid smell was still there but by now Mortimer had already gotten use to it.
Pacing at the dirty old desk that settled underneath a few resting owls, disgust swiftly casts on his face when owl droppings land next to the ink bottle. "Gross."
Fearing they might aim at him next, Mortimer quickly begins to write his letter.
Somehow the first step became the hardest. Not knowing where to begin, the quill in his hand freezes.
Frowning, Mortimer stood while the feathery birds watch.
Pale sunlight filtered in through the slits of the tower, dust specks in, blurring the expression of the boy.
Dear Aunt Cissy…
Scratch that, he squishes the parchment before tossing it back.
Hey, Aunt Cissy…
Nope – Another try.
Hello there, it's me, your nephew!
Scrunching the note, he facepalms.
Close to a hour, he bangs his head against the palms of his hand.
How many times has he tried? He stopped counting after thirteen… nervous than ever before, he couldn't waste anymore time. The further he avoided it, the more he sure they'd worried.
Letting out a heavy breath Mortimer stops thinking about it and decides to speak truthfully, without much consideration or thought.
Aunt Cissy,
I've ran away. Through no fault of your own, I have decided to stay at the Leaky Cauldron. I am no position to make demands, but I would appreciate it if you could withdraw Professor Snape from retrieving me. I need some time alone for myself. Again, through no fault of yours. Know that I am safe. I will discuss the reason for my actions in a more private setting. For now, I ask that you let me bear my thoughts.
On another note, I would also like to apologize to Draco. His Nimbus, for the most part, is still intact.
Cherish you all,
Mortimer.
Signing his name. Mortimer hopes it was enough.
Rolling it, he walks towards the closets owl. A gray, rather young owl, with deep brown highlights and a pale yellow beak.
"Take this to Narcissa Malfoy – It's for her and her only." He takes out a piece of ham, giving it to the owl, he clucks it before flying out of the tower.
That was that.
For what seemed like hours, there was nothing but the flapping of distant wings, and the many hoots echoing the paved walls of the tower. Mortimer watches the grey sky, knowing he'd have to wait now.
And that was the worst part of it all.