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Mortimer was hunched over the sink, holding his stomach. It was a feeling he wasn't familiar with.

His lower abdominal was stiff as his muscles protested against moving with avidity. Grumbling at the pain, it was unfortunate he didn't have any potions laying around, something to help him through the day.

The cause for it is unknown. One minute he was in bed, drooling over the cushioned pillow and the next, he sprints to the bathroom where he spends approximately ten minutes trying to figure out the source of his sudden illness.

Lifting his chin, listening behind the bathroom door, a blast of noises reaches his ears.

Ignoring them, his fingers remain on the sink, gripping the rim tightly. Paying solely to the mirror in front of him, he thinks maybe he's caught something. A dumb thought, wizards were practically immune from human illnesses. And thanks to the magical core they carried, Mortimer wasn't so easily infected. Still, it didn't hurt to check.

Straightening his back, Mortimer rolled his shoulders while taking a glance at his own reflection. His skin had turned paler, due to the time spent inside. Dark circles under his eyes from the lack of rest. His cheeks were hollow, losing weight as he ignores the calls of hunger.

None of this was a cause for concern.

It was a look he wore in a previous life. Often kept in tight spaces, unable to let the sun touch his skin as he was devoided from natural light. Sleep deprived because of the constant fear that ambushed his dreams. Meals were withheld as a result of his so-called disobedience, leaving his stomach empty, crying for subtances.

Indeed the appearance he wore was not one he worried about. No. It was the eyes that stared back at him, raising the alarms in his head.

Leaning closer, Mortimer examined himself further. He thought that maybe he was hallucinating, brought on by poor sleep.

Another string of knocks.

But again, he brushes them aside. Right now, the image he's seeing needed closer inspection. Using his fingers, he expands the bags below his eyes as he looms the glass.

The center of his eyes, Mortimer stares deeply at his counterpart. Pupils that were once dark in color were no longer existent, but rather were replaced by a dark scarlet hue.

Mortimer swallowed past panic-stricken affects and unbelievable denial. Red. His eyes were turning red. A faint gasp. It was abnormal, a deformity that was not possible for any human being to carry. What would others say if they saw him? The obvious answer, they'd run. More importantly, how on earth does he get rid of it…

BANG BANG BANG

Jumping on the spot, his head snaps at the intrusion. What was so important that they felt the need to make all that noise? Now was not the time to be dealing with Potter.

Instinctively, he begins to rub his eyes. Granted it might not change anything, but what else was he suppose to do? Grab his wand and zap the eyes out of his sockets?

The tip of his fingers as he pushes his eyes deep inside his skull, he continues to rubs them until he's left temporarily blind. It wasn't hard seeing as how the minute he stops, Mortimer's vision becomes blurry with specks of light clouding his sight. In turn, takes him a while to regain his surroundings.

Here's hoping that it worked, or at least enough for him not to notice. Mortimer braces himself as he faces his own reflection for the second time.

Mortimer could not tell whether it was obvious or not, he was still rather dazzled up. In which time, the heavy knocks on the door had increased.

There was pressure, he felt like he was on a timer. With the noises outside and the unamount of weight, getting rid of this strange blotch in his eyes, he feared the person behind it will bust right in, catching him at his mosylt vulnerable.

But thankfully, today was not the day. As he let's out a heavy breath, he was relieved to find himself back to normal. The reddish color had left, his pupils returning back to its original state, he checks them again to make sure he wasn't simply fooling himself.

But again, they were dark in color.

As they should be.

Searching for any logical reason, he was unable to find one. It was easier to say he made up the whole thing. Who was he kidding? Sure he wasn't normal, by any human standards, but he wasn't completely mad. Crazy enough that he would suddenly start seeing things. Internally, he knew what he saw.

And didn't have an ounce of a clue as to what could have caused it.

Turning away, he didn't want to think about anymore. Still playing at the idea that it was catching a small fever.

With the task out of the way, Mortimer was to deal with another matter, Potter. The dolt thought it was best to interrupt him during this unusual dilemma.

Rinsing his face real quick, he tosses the soaked towel, bracing himself for the annoying nit that came to pester him as Mortimer opened the door.

A silent sigh, he rubs his eyes one last time for a good measure. Heat rising, a gust of air slips through his mouth, gripping the door knob he pulls open the door.

It wasn't Harry.

Instead, it was Ginny Weasley.

Ginny, who instantaneously, squealed before throwing herself into Mortimer's own body.

"Ginny?" Mortimer brows raised, holding her incase she falls. It would've been a pleasant surprise if the previous episode wasn't still playing in his head. "What're you doing here?"

Letting go, she grinned, noticing the appearance of what a muggle would wear. "Woah – Nice look." A small laugh, she continues. "Harry told me you were here. My family's staying over at the Leaky Cauldron!"

He stood straight, shuffling his shirt into place. "You are?"

Watching Mortimer wiggling around the fabric, she nods eagerly. "Mmhmm – Harry told me you've been here for weeks. What happened to staying over at Malfoy's?"

There wasn't an immediate respond. Ginny didn't need to know exactly why he was here, or how he got here. Nor the mentions of both 'run' and 'away'. "Important family business… I'm better off here –" Thinking carefully, he derails the topic. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"That's why it's called a surprise, silly." Giggling, she eyes the room before looking at Mortimer. "Ron's gone out with Harry and Hermione – Mum's taking me to go school shopping… Want to come with?"

As she spoke, Ginny realizes Mortimer probably had more; better things to do. Anyhow, why would a third-year be interested in hanging with a boring second-year. "Unless you have other things to do!" She says abruptly, trying to save her dignity.

Looking to the side, he smiles to himself. The plan for today was to go pick up the remainder of his books. So far, laziness and coming up with excuses, he's neglected the task for weeks, if he was smart enough, he'd go with Ginny and save himself the trip of worrying later. "Count me in. Besides, I still need to get a few textbooks."

Expressing what Mortimer believes to be relieved, Ginny nods, beaming in response. "Great! I'll go tell mum – Meet you down stairs." Without another word, she turns and runs out into the hallway, excitingly.

As she disappears, Mortimer unknowingly covers one of his eyes with the palm of his hand. The image of his red eye still remaining in his subconscious.

Securing the door, he calmly dresses himself. Picking to wear a black polo shirt and regular dark jeans. The one's he bought fitted just right, giving him the flexibility.

Heading back to the bathroom to inspect his eyes one last time. He was thankful to find them normal. Not a visible sign of those red orbs and he was slowly starting believe that it was all in his head.

Mortimer walked in the pub's dining area, sneakers leaving dusty footprints on the unswept wooded floor and the granular sounds as Ginny approaches him. "Mortimer, come. Mum wants to meet you." Seeing as his expression widened, Ginny rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, she's not all bad."

Taking hold of his hand, Ginny leads him towards three figures. Ginny's mother, who was scouting through a rather large old bag and two older boy's. Having seen them all around the school, the terrible duo were known to be the biggest pranksters to ever walk the earth.

Mortimer often avoided them, fearing they'd make him a target. It was no longer the case. Seeing as how it'll put him under their radar once they find him hanging around with the likes of their little sister…

"Ginny! Here you are. Oh, and this must be your friend. How you doing dearie?" Mrs. Weasley greeted him while the twins looked at each other, questioning Ginny's new friend.

Mortimer seemed awfully familiar to them, but couldn't be placed. To be honest, they haven't paid much attention to her, so it became a surprise when they realized she had found a friend.

Avoiding the twins' curious stare, Mortimer merely offers Mrs. Weasley a small smile, awkwardly, he replies. "I'm great. Ginny was kind enough to invite me. I hope I'm not causing any problems."

"Nonsense my dear, it's no trouble at all." Mrs. Weasley assures him, grabbing a list from a table. "Ginny tells me you're in the same year as my other son, Ronald."

"Yes." Clearing his throat, Mortimer could still feel the duo staring from the corner of his eye. "We shared a few classes last year."

A light-hearted smile, she was unaware of his identity. Knowing this had increased his nerves. It was likely that she'd ask for a name. "How lovely! Tell me, how did you come to meet my little Ginny here –" A minor tilt of her head, she asks. "I'm sorry dearie… I didn't quite catch your name."

The questioning seeming innocent, made him feel like he was under interrogation. Mrs. Weasley might not know who 'Mortimer' is, rest assured that the twins will soon be made aware. He lifts his eyes and darts them towards Ginny, searching for any assistance. And yet, she was just as lost as him.

A soft smile, he attempts to keep it as innocent as possible, replying. "It's Mortimer. . . Porton. You see, I'm a," Thinking on his feet, "…muggle," He uttered. Grateful that Draco wasn't around to hear him. "and I got myself lost – Ginny was nice enough to give me direction. We've been friends ever since."

It was believable. At least convincing enough for Mrs. Weasley as she nods, place her arm around Ginny, giving her a tight motherly squeeze. "Oh, how sweet of you, Ginny."

The loom on her daughter's face as she turns red, Mortimer chuckled in amusement.

Her mother continues. "See, I told you, making friends wouldn't be so hard." Turning her head to face Mortimer. "I told her Mortimer. She was so nervous going to Hogwarts, she thought she'd never make any friends. But I said there's always a friend for everyone. Look at her now, she's brought you here."

"Mum!" Ginny's embarrassment only increased. "Can we just go, please!"

Scratching his head, he looks away. Noting the twins as they whispered into each other's ears. He suddenly felt nervous, he expected a confrontation.

"Oh alright –" Letting go, she heads over to the pubs counter. "Fred, George." Calling out the two boys, they quickly tag along from behind.

Ginny, trying to shake off her mortification, she felt the need to apologize. "I'm sorry about that, mum can be embarrassing sometimes…"

Mortimer only chuckles, quickly changing the matter. "Will Luna be joining us?"

Rubbing her chin, she stared into space, recalling her friends words. "She said she'd meet us later, something about setting traps for pixie toads... Whatever that means."

Definitely something Luna would say.

Moving pass Mortimer she too follows them into the back of the pub. Smiling to himself, he found the Weasley's to be interesting family.

Despite their lack of wealth, they seemed content. Between his brows, they're pulled together, rather envious about the care that was provided for the children.

It made him realize how much he was missing out. In turn, made him miss the Malfoy's. Aunt Cissy and Draco might've not been the perfect family, yet, they were all he has left. Probably the last few people that actually cared about him, genuinely saw him as their own.

Once they arrived at Diagon Alley, Mortimer expected them stop at Flourish and Botts.

Caught off when they were alternately taken to a second-hand book store.

It was dusty and cluttered inside. Torn book covers and lose pages filled in the disheveled bookshelf's. Dust particles were easily exposed in the sunlight's gaze, showing the lack of cleanliness. The candle lights were dimmed leaving the back of the shop quite obscure.

While Mrs. Weasley takes out the list from her bag, Mortimer and Ginny start browsing the area. There was open cabinet containing small trinkets, varying from palm sized crystal balls to a bucket of enchanted bookmarks that were shaped like human fingers.

Twisting his face, Ginny laughed at his timid expression. Her mother calling to her, as she waves her hand. "Ginny! Dear come and help me pick out these blasted books."

Taking a step away, she nods hastily. "Ok." Whispering to Mortimer. "Be right back."

Without saying a word, he was left alone. He knows that he should probably go pick out his own books as well. He'd do it, just not in second-hand book store… It wasn't because he was better, simply to keep up with the display. Aunt Cissy would give him an earful if she ever found him with the Weasley clan, and in thrift store no less.

"Porton, is it?" The question had Mortimer quickly turn to face the Weasley twins. Again, he could never tell them apart, he was unfamiliar with the rest of them. No matter, it didn't change the chill that was currently running down his spine.

The identical boys were smirking, one of them smiling, baring his teeth, showing their own amusement. "You know you look particularly familiar, ain't that right Fred?"

The older boy name Fred nods his head, slowly. It was clear that he was enjoying it. "Oh yes George. Very very familiar… But that can't be him. No, never. Why would he hang around the likes of us?"

George, rubbing his chin, appearing as if he was trying to solve a complex puzzle. "Very true. Too good for our kind, I'd say."

"Maybe we should ask him…"

Both Fred and George turn to face him. "Well Porton? What do you think?" One of them asks just as his counterpart followed with. "Or is it, Black?"

A heavy breath, Mortimer knew the game was up. If there was ever one. The twins weren't stupid no matter how much they pretended to be and Mortimer was a fool to think they wouldn't take notice. "It depends… would confessing make the beating worse?"

"Beating?" One of them questions, striking an offensive look. "Now why would we go on and do something like that?"

Mortimer shrugs. "Everyone else has."

"Stupid people have." Guessing it was Gorge who spoke. Fred agreed. "Exactly! But we," Gesturing his arms between the two. "are the most – if not – the brightest of our age."

"So tell us, Porton," Playing along with the charade, George's curious stare bore Mortimer's own. "What's a kid, of your stature," Pointing a lazy finger at him. "hanging around our little sister?"

Uncomfortable, Mortimer's eyes darted off. He anticipated the confrontation, though didn't expect it to be so soon. He could excuse the twins, taking into account they were simply trying to protect Ginny. However, his reason might not be enough for them.

Any valid excuse, will somehow be taken as ploy to try and get back at them. A crazy idea, Mortimer didn't think there was anything to gain from messing around the Weasley's. They weren't rich or powerful, anyone worth knowing. They were simply too crowded, bland and poor. If anything, it was Ginny who has more to gain from this than him.

But he wouldn't tell them that. And the truth was, it was never about gain. It was purely about two children seeking friendship because they were both socially inept.

The thoughts going in his head, Mortimer could only shrug in response. "She was nice to me."

George squints his eyes slightly as if he was scanning for a hint of a lie. "Nice?"

Fred blinked as his gaze made Mortimer nervous. "You're telling us that you – a slippery little' serpent – wants to be friends with Ginny… because she's nice?"

Flinching, Mortimer bumps back, hitting into a desk. "Ye-Yeah. I-I'm not well liked, if you haven't guessed already, and Ginny's been nice despite everyone saying otherwise."

Preparing for the worst, his eyes glued to the floor, waiting for their threating words. Telling him to leave and never speak to Ginny ever again. It was sense of dread he was familiar with, but hasn't gotten use to it.

But those words never came.

"Gin sure does know how to pick friends. Ain't it grand George?"

"Agreed." Flashing a smile to his brother. "What kind of brothers would we be if we decided to drive off every wizard who comes in contact with our vulnerable little Ginny."

"Then again, poor Ronnikins will surely spit feathers if he finds you hanging around here."

Their smiles only grew more and more, deviously as they picture the look of their brother's face. It was thrilling, exciting, hilarious. The idea alone causes Fred to face Mortimer, exposing his amusing grin "You haven't given us a reason to not like you…"

George nods, taking over his brother. "So as long as Harry doesn't mind you…"

Coming together, they shared a glance and both finally said. "We won't either."

Straightening himself, he was disbelief. "Really? Just like that?" Eyeing Ginny, her attention on the collection of books her mother had picked out.

"As we've said, our young royal friend – You haven't given us a reason to." George wrapping his long arm around Mortimer's shoulders.

Fred, agreeing with George, does the same, squishing the boy between them. "But don't go on thinking we won't throw a dungbomb in your bag…"

"Or a stink pellet…"

"… We might even glue your head to you bottom…"

"Or hang you by your pants, right up on those chandeliers."

"Fred! George! Quit lacking about and come help me." Mrs. Weasley scowled, carrying a small pile of books in her arms.

Their answer, Mortimer felt a sense of amazement as the twins let go of him, waving at him as they mischievously smirked. Mortimer had to say, he was impressed. They didn't hurt him, or threatened him, well… not completely anyway. He wanted to say this was an overall improvement over the last year. Still, he had a few more to go before he could fully say life's never been better.

Ginny, a lowered expression, approaches Mortimer, textbooks wrapped around her arms. "All those extra chores… buttering her up… And I still get their hand-me-downs." Kicking the wooded floor, small flakes of dust shoot from the tip of her shoes.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he felt odd. New to this whole friendship thing. "Cheer up Gin, maybe later we can go get ice-cream."

Her cheeks lifted, she gives him the warmest of smiles. It was enough for both corners of her mouth to rise towards his attempt to brighten her mood. "I guess this means you'll be going to Flourish and Botts for your school books?"

Clearing his throat, he was almost ashamed to answer. A small fear, he didn't want Ginny to go on and think he was flaunting his wealth. "My Aunt would go ballistic if she found me here."

"I understand." Her chest rose and fell as she lowered her shoulders, reminded about his association. It was best to move on. "C'mon, I think we're done here. Next stop, my robes."

An hour into their shopping spree. Ginny had collected her school supplies. Mortimer had also manage to snatch his last remaining texts, leaving them back the Leaky Cauldron.

As they finished, Mortimer asked Mrs. Weasley if Ginny could come along with him and Luna for a treat. Which she had happily agreed.

Currently, they were walking along the sidewalks of Diagon Alley, doing their best not to bump into the many witches and wizards that loitered about. A sigh, Ginny was ready for the school year, however, was more than embarrassed to find how much of her items were pre-owned. Mortimer did his best to distract her, telling her about the classes he was taking this year.

The young Weasley girl had left her possessions with her mother. Mrs. Weasley, more than keen to let Ginny accompany Mortimer to the ice-cream parlour, had practically shooed the children away. Telling them to stick together and to have fun. He assumed it was because the experience of having a new friend, Ginny was in need of more socializing. And after what happened to her last year, Mortimer couldn't help but agree.

She was still shaky about it, telling him how it hurts to think about what she's done, the people that were petrified because of her. It was because of this, Ginny had secluded herself from everyone else. Even more stressful when she couldn't find a single person to discuss this with.

The only other person Mortimer could think of was Harry. But she would never go to him. His stare would melt her completely. And then there was him. Yet, Mortimer wasn't sure how much Potter had told her about him.

Did Ginny know he was a parseltongue? Had she somehow connected the dots and figured out about his parentage? It was a long trail of ideas that made him sweat. He wasn't opposed to confessing her. Believing she deserved the truth. Mainly due to Dark Lord's handy work in using the diary to control her. No one deserved to lose their free will for another person's greed.

"Have you heard about Sirius Black?" Ginny whispered, they walked pass Madam Malkin's robes.

Along side of her, he nods. "I have." Rolling his eyes, he predicts her next sentence. "Don't tell me, you think I've got something to do with it?"

Biting her lip, she stares at her moving feet. "No. Both Harry and Hermione say your not like your family. And when we first met, you said you hate this sort of fancy stuff. Now that I think about it, Hermione did say you were raised by muggles… Is it true?"

Sliding his hands inside his pocket, he takes a quick gander at Amanuensis Quills. "Partly." He spoke silently.

Noting the jitter in his voice, Ginny couldn't see any reason to feel this way. "Are you ashamed?" She asked. It seemed reasonable to ponder on. Purebloods, like the Malfoy's, would do anything to disassociate themselves from muggles and perhaps, Mortimer was no different. It makes sense why he would want to bury that part of his life.

But to her shock, Mortimer answered, and for once, she could hear his relief. "No, I'm not." Ginny was starting to feel excitement as he reveled. "I was raised by an old woman… I called her Nana…" The last word was said in a bitter tone. "She was a muggle, of course, and took me in when I didn't have anyone – I didn't even know I was a wizard until I got my letter, let alone, aware that I still had family."

Studying how his jaw clenched shut, Ginny asked, hoping she wasn't being too intrusive. "What happened to her?"

It takes Mortimer a couple of moments to reply, his hands were clenched together. "She passed away."

Peering her eyes away from her friend, she felt bad for having asked. "I'm sorry."

Mortimer was to quick to respond. "Don't be." A small twitch in his features, he seemed almost too happy. "She's in a better place…"

Before Ginny could ask what he meant, Mortimer started to zip through the crowd. "Look Ginny! It's Luna."

With Mortimer running away, Ginny had no choice but to chase after him. Forgetting his eerie response and the sudden glow in his eyes, she found him being smothered by Luna's tight grip. Luna's hair had seemed messier than ever, but was well constrained by a lavender scrunchie. Her pale skin had gotten a tan, as she could see the visible sun marks, one of which was in the shape of sea shell, resting on her forehead.

Hearing as her childhood friend greets him. "I'm glad you've gotten rid of those pesky snag flies floating around your head. I was worried I would have to rub snails all over your worried pate."

Turning to Ginny, Luna reaches around to hug her. "Sorry I couldn't visit as much. Father and I were off adventuring. He forgot I was suppose to come back before the new term starts."

Ginny giggles, surprised that Luna had remembered as well. "It's ok. You can tell me along the way. We were just heading for some ice-cream."

Luna answers them, almost too eagerly as the girl starts bouncing in place. "Ooo, how wonderful. I'd very much like to come."

The girls chattering when they begin to walk. Mortimer studied them. A smile forming on his face, feeling rather joyed. It was good to have friends. He didn't know why they stuck around, thinking they were probably better off with just the two. And somehow they thought he was the perfect addition to their little group.

Granted, he had his own little group back in the slytherin house. Truthfully, Tracey and Daphne had their own thing going, he often felt it like he was butting in. While Theo maintained his range with Draco. It made sense since they grew up together. That's not to say they were bad friends. They were the complete opposite, kind and caring, Mortimer had to count his blessings.

And tomorrow, he'll be able to see them. That is if Draco doesn't kill him first.

Returning to the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny and Mortimer, were both surprised to find Harry and Hermione here. Resting near a fireplace, the trio were whispering amongst each other. They didn't seem to notice him or Ginny as they approached both Mr. and Mrs. Weasly.

"Oh, there you two are – Mortimer, why don't you stay for a while. I'm sure Ginny would appreciate it, wouldn't you dear?"

A whine starts to escape her lips. "Mum –"

Quickly, however, Mortimer response. "I'd love to. Thank you, Mrs. Weasly."

"Will Luna be joining us as well?" She asks the two when she starts setting up the table.

Ginny, shaking her head, responds. "No mum. Her father came to pick her up an hour ago. Mr. Lovegood sends his regards."

"How lovely." She smiles. Then, Mrs. Weasley turns to her husband. "Arthur, come meet Ginny's friend."

The man, Mortimer knew to be Mr. Weasley comes over to then greet him. He remembers him from the time he had punched Uncle Lucius last year. It didn't mean that he had recognized Mortimer.

Perhaps it was the clothes, seeing as how his hand was suddenly taken into a grip, shaking it up and down. Mr. Weasley addresses him kindly. "So you're the friend Ginny has been writing letters to. You know, she's never written to anyone. To my shock when she asked me if she could borrow the family owl, I had to ask. My little Ginny here has made a friend."

"Dad!" Ginny groaned at the endless torture of her parents.

"Oh, come now Ginny." Patting her daughter's small head. "It's no fuss. Right? Um – What was you name lad?"

Clearing his throat, he said in a hush tone. "Mortimer."

"I couldn't help but notice your… attire." Mr. Weasley mentions, pointing at Mortimer's otherworldly clothes. "Are you a muggle by any chance?"

Mortimer was apprehensive to respond. Afraid, they'd see through his little disguise, they'll know he was lying and expose the real identity of the Black child. Burying his nerves, he answers. "Yes."

In a matter of seconds, Mr. Weasley's eyes widened as his expression quickly turns into excitement and fascination. "I have so many questions! You may not know this Mortimer, but I work for the department of magical law. Specifically muggle artifacts, and I couldn't help but wonder –"

Interrupting her husband, Mrs. Weasley motions Arthur out of the way, carrying a pile of plates. "Hush Arthur, Ginny's friend didn't come here for an interview. We're here for a nice meal – Ginny help me set up the table."

Just as Ginny was about to move to assist her mother, they were pleasantly surprised when Mortimer had instead came. "It's ok." he speaks out. "I can help with that."

Without being told, Mortimer coolly takes the plates off her hands before setting them down one by one. "What a gentleman, you are, your parents must have raised you right."

He didn't react, not this time. For that honor had gone to Nana, he was brought back to when he was a small child, one who could barely reach the table. It was expected from him to always stay useful, to earn his keep inside Nana's household.

With Arthur Weasley retreating towards the other side of the room, the other children helped settle the rest of the table. As Mortimer continued to set the glasses down, he was startled by Ron's rambunctious voice. "What are you here?"

Twirling his body around, Mortimer came to face Ron, Hermione and Harry following from behind. Retaining his cool, he merely beckons them amd smiles. "Your mother invited me over. It'd be rude to say no… So I said yes."

A ridiculous lie, Ron thought, "As of if she'd invite you to the dinner table, let alone a Black at that."

Mortimer observed Harry's respond, he glared at Ron's childish behavior.

Hermione did the same, but did nothing to stop him. She swiftly ignores it and attempt to move the conversation, avoiding Ron's irked cast. "Harry told us about what happened."

Sending Potter a menacing look, Harry had to peer his eyes away. "Did he now?"

"It's not his fault." Salvaging her words, Hermione rapidly began to excuse. "When Harry told us you were here, I knew there was more to it."

"And you thought you'd make it your business to meddle in on someone's personal life?"

"No! Not exactly…"

"She's just concerned." Harry came to her defense. "She finds it strange how you just randomly show up here. At the same time as Sirius Black escaped."

Folding his arms, he took a quick glance towards Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, serving the food. "And I've already told you, I don't know a single thing. I only found out the day I ran into Potter."

Fretting with endless questions, Hermione nervously plays with her fingers, dying to ask, "Then why?" she ignores Harry's warning look. "Why did you run away?"

Mortimer was staring wordlessly at the three, even Ron had gone quiet as he was probably wondering the same thing. Yet, remained emotionless, the tension in his muscles coming together, his mind telling him to walk away.

A wary glare, Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, could feel Mortimer's eyes as they ran deep into them. "That's private Granger and no one's concern."

Raising his voice, Ron hopped as he claimed. "See! It's proof that he's lying. I wouldn't be surprised if he's hiding the mad man up in his room. Isn't that right, Black?"

Unable to repress his eye roll, Mortimer found Ron's accusations humorous. "Absolutely – Matter of fact, he's still laying in bed, resting. If you want, you can come right upstairs and show Black a thing or two."

As the suggesting thought, Ron's face goes entirely pale that he had to take a step back. His friends, all the while, had to shake their heads, ignoring their no-so-subtle unimpressed looks.

"Mortimer, dinner's served." Coming from behind the four children, Ginny came into their view. Once she spotted Ron's bothered cast, her brows knitted. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He repeats. Ron couldn't believe Ginny's naivety, her question felt almost like an insult. "What's wrong is that you're hanging out with a future death eater. What have I told you about getting near him? Especially in a time like this?"

Ginny's brow pinched further. "Mortimer hasn't done anything wrong. Your friends think he's alright, George and Fred seem to be getting along, everyone except you."

"They're too trusting." Ron snapped. "I know better than to trust Black. He'll turn on you once you-know-who comes back."

"Ron that isn't fair." Hermione said. "Ginny has every right to have friend."

Harry stayed quiet as Hermione and Ron talked over one another. He didn't think it was any of his business and didn't want to get in the way of their family, especially when problems like these emerge.

Ron scoffed. "She has plenty of friends!"

"How would you know!" Holding her ground, Ginny spoke as her hand closed together. "You hardly pay any attention."

Taking a quick glance, Mortimer too had all gone but silent. Though, his eyes were seemingly glued to the wood board floor. Every now and then, he would start rubbing his eyes as if there was something lodged deep inside his head, blinking rapidly.

"I so do –"

Inserting, Hermione agreed with the Weasley girl. "Ginny's right. You've hardly paid in any attention last year –"

It was unbelievable, did they not understand the point he was trying to make. "Last year? There was giant monster attacking the whole school last year! Of course my mind was occupied with other things."

"You don't need to remind me." Ginny's tone was ridden with guilt as she was reminded.

At this point, Mortimer felt the need to intervene. However, he might escalate things further, bringing in unneeded attention of their parents. They weren't far off, just a few feet away. Even then, they too seem preoccupied with their own little discussion to fully see the extent of the ruckus.

It wasn't until Percy came strutting inside the bar, with his newly shined head boy badge that everyone became still, sounding proud of his achievement. "Hello everyone!"

"Percy! Everyone, gather around, another Weasley has made Head Boy." Mrs. Weasley announced, showing off her son. Percy bask in the attention of those watching.

"Finally!" Fred waves as George howled, a little too close to Percy's ear. "Bighead boy!"

"Get'off!" Stifled Percy, trying to shove his smothering brothers.

"Woo! Woo! Woo!" Shouted George.

"Stop it you two!" Mrs. Weasley dominant tone filled the room, prying of both George and Fred. "Your setting the wrong example to your little sister!"

The overly dramatic family was enough for Mortimer to turn away. They were a good distraction from Ron and Ginny's heated conversation. Harry and the other's laughed and giggled at their shenanigans that they nearly forgot about Mortimer. Ginny herself had a laugh until, she peacefully stood next to him. "I'm sorry about Ron. He doesn't understand."

"He really doesn't…" Mortimer agreed. The apology was brushed aside, only because he didn't think she should be the one to say it. Her brother's problem stood on the fact that he was simply too blind. Ron thought that the world's problems were in black and white. That no middle ground has ever existed. "And that's ok." He spoke softly.

It was useless to argue with the Weasley boy and it was better to forget. "I guess we should take our seats. We'll need a good rest if we're going to catch the train in the morning"

A smile playing her lips, Ginny nodded eagerly. "To Hogwarts?"

"To Hogwarts." Mortimer repeats.

After a loud, but still delicious dinner, Mortimer had decided to slip away from the room. They may have welcomed him, however, he somehow felt like an invader who had no right.

As the family was distracted by both Fred and George, he took it as a chance to head back to his room.

His stomach full, Mortimer was ready to throw in the towel and get a good rest.

There wasn't much going on downstairs. Other than the trio peering over him once in a while, he wonders what their problem was. Was he not allowed to enjoy his meal? Enjoy the company of his pal? Breathe without being investigated?

Mortimer was better off in his room. That way he'd be able to finally hear his own thoughts.

Climbing the stairs he feels a sudden itch. Dizzy, he was feeling rather drowsy, numb. Stopping in the middle if the hallway, he was pulled away from his body. He was unaware of what was going on until his mind starts playing a scene, one his never seen before.

A dark wooded forest and a cordon of trees, closed off to any passing explorers. It felt warm, close to tropical, Mortimer could almost smell the bitter scent of salt. The oceanic sounds as it filled his ears with insects of both cricket and buzzes, he felt confused. If Mortimer were to look up at the sky, he could easily tell that it was approximately night time.

The more he stood, the more he could feel himself in this strange unknown place. For some reason, the bizarre and unexpected sensation of rage caused his body to tense up. Mortimer doesn't know why he was angry, only that an urge to strangle someone filled his head with terrifying thoughts. He was scared… feeling like an absolute creep as he lumbered through the branches of populated shrubs.

Akin to watching a movie. Only being able to feel, hear, smell and see what the other figure was doing. The way his view slowly roamed the ground, eerily. Whatever – whoever – it was, it was not human.

It started to growl and thundered as it was unable to express its upmost frustration, making Mortimer believe it was because the strange silhouette form was weak, disabling any bodily movement.

There was a lot of anger and a lot of torture, so much so that it became excruciatingly overwhelming.

Lightheaded, Mortimer doesn't know what he was reaching for when his arm stretched towards something, gripping it tightly, he uses it for an anchor. Afraid that if he didn't he would fall face flat.

"Mortimer, your hurting me!"

Gasping for air, his eyes clenched shut as his fists were clenched in deeply that his knuckles had turned white. He swore under his breath, seeking for something that wasn't there.

Until finally, he opens his eyes wide, body shaking, he could feel the heat in his cheeks increasing every second. It was painful, his body felt hot, almost like he was burning alive. He ran his hands over his skin.

"Mortimer!"

When only the sight of red hair appeared and noticing he wasn't on some tropical land. There was no more rage, no more darkness, his heart rate calmed some.

Ginny's frightened, worried, face stood out in the middle of the hallway. "Mortimer, what's wrong? Let me go get mum!"

"No!" Mortimer yelled, coughing. He tries shaking off the remainder of confusion of his figment. He attempts to right himself, grasping for his reality. "I-I'm fine, honest."

Ginny stays quiet, nervously looking around from where she was standing, her voice frail. "What was that about?"

The dream's residue, as if he was there again, he blinks a couple of times. "N-Nothing. I-I –" Trying to come up with an excuse. "I'm tired that's all."

"Are you sure? Should I get mum?"

"No, no really I'm fine. I just need to go bed." Furiously, he shakes his head. Not sure who he was trying to convince. "I'm sorry… Did I hurt you bad?" he asked, unable to look at her.

Ginny pauses, her breath hitching in her throat as she tries not to tremble. "No. I'll be fine."

A small laugh escapes. "You're a terrible liar."

"I know."

Mortimer found himself sliding against the wall, going down quietly as he then sat of the floor, no doubt it was dirtying his pants. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know what happened..."

Fiddling with her small hands, she sighed. "Does it have something to do with you-know-who?"

There was a solemnness to his respond, he noted how her voice shook when she spoke of the dark lord. "We never really did talk about him, did we?"

Shaking her head somberly, she joins Mortimer on the floor. "No." she says. "I try not to think about it."

For a long time, neither attempted to say a word. The subject was a dark one. And it only took one name to ruin it all, one man. He was aware that a topic like that was best discussed with a friend, or at least someone who'd you trust, know better than anyone. And that person wasn't him. Sure him and Ginny were considered to be friends, but how far did that trust really go? Would she even believe him? Or simply disregard his words like so many have.

What could Mortimer possibly say that would make things better? Oh, sorry Ginny. Sorry that my father twisted your mind and made you do his bidding… As if that was ever going to work. Words wouldn't fix this. The only way was to destroy the dark lord, but so far, the results was a left empty by uncertainty.

Even Dumbledore isn't sure where he was currently hiding, only that he was alive. "I'm sorry. . ." Mortimer said softly, staring at the wall. "About the diary."

Quietly, she asks. "Did you put the diary in my cauldron?"

Mortimer's immediate answer was, "No."

"Then you have nothing to be sorry for." Mortimer visibly relaxed, her words providing the comfort of his innocence.

"What I mean… I'm sorry you had to go through that. Because of my…," Mortimer halts, fawning over the word father that he decides not to use it. "Because of him… horrible things were done."

"Ye-Yeah." From what she could tell, Mortimer appeared to be just as guilty for some unknown reason. It made her curious, she had to ask. "If you-know-who is your. . . father, than that means you can speak parseltongue?"

There was only a single nod.

Slowly it sent shivers, coming to the realization that she was facing the son of a very dark wizard. And that very son just happens to be her friend. "Say something."

At her request, Mortimer didn't see a problem, she was one of the few people who actually knew. "Say what?"

Goosebumps appear in her arms when she was instantly startled at the abnormal hissing noise. Though, she knew Harry spoke the language, she never actually heard him, that is until Mortimer had spoken. "It sounds so creepy!"

Smirking, he leans his head back. "I can only imagine."

She then wonders. "What about Harry?" Tilting her head, Ginny looks at him. "He can speak too. Are you able to talk to him?"

"I can understand him, if that's what you're asking."

Looking down at her hands, she asks. "Then, what does that make him?"

"A mystery." Mortimer confessed, seeming just as confused as she was. "A question for the world, that's not to mention why I was even put on the bloody planet."

"I guess it doesn't help that your mother is…" Insane? Mental? Of her rocker? There was no polite way to describe exactly the kind of witch she was.

"…Nuts." Finishing, for her, he was pretty sure that wasn't the correct phrase, least not without getting vulgar.

They laughed until the hall got quiet. Both were lost in their own thoughts. Yet, it was about the same subject. The episode that had Mortimer dozing into a dream-like state. Visualizing a strange and unknown land, one which he's never visited before.

In those prior moments, Ginny was surprised to see Mortimer upstairs. He had silently walked away from the downstairs pub. Her brothers, entertaining and captivating their dinner guests, Mortimer had used it as an opportunity to leave. It was there that she noticed, had prompted her to follow.

It wasn't long that she found him upstairs, standing in the middle of long hallway, his face was hidden underneath the shadow of a single lampshade chandelier. She was hesitant, but also worried, the way he stared into nothingness, his eyes had suddenly turned into a different color, she could tell by the way his irises were transparent, even through the dark.

Her nerves only increases when he starts growling, his throat vibrating, similar to how a dog that was ready to attack would make. Shaken, she had cautiously began to walk towards him.

In an attempt to snap him out off, she had foolishly touched him. Ginny shifted against the floor, leaning her body back, poking him with her elbow. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Your were acting different… Is it because of him?"

The outstretched silence, it wasn't horribly uncomfortable and Mortimer continued to stay in place, staring towards the ceiling. Ginny, instead, allowed him the time he needed to let it sink in.

That is until he was ready to say more. "Maybe?" He held onto his breath. "I don't know. It felt like dream, only I was able to hear and smell, almost feel everything."

"What was the dream like?" Tilting her head, she askes.

"M'Not sure." He starts stretching his head. "It was dark. I was in forest. . . close to a beach and then," he pauses. "nothing."

When Ginny didn't respond, Mortimer had gone skittish, agonizing over the possibility of her telling anyone. "Please, don't tell anyone." His voice faint.

"I won't." Ginny promised. "Do you think perhaps he's trying to do what he did to me?"

Giving her a pondering expression, he took a small break, thinking more about the chances of him ever doing that. It was hard to swallow, but the idea was there. The man would anything to stay in power. "You mean. . . mind control?"

Nodding, she sat there and waited.

The thought of the dark lord taking over his mind causes him to recoil. He didn't like the idea of someone taking over his body. "I would hope not."

Mortimer admits. "I have enough problems as it is." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head in frustration. "I shouldn't have to worry about someone taking over my brain. I should be worrying about kid stuff. Like, school… uh –" Squinting his eyes, thought more. "friends…?"

Blinking. Huh – Interesting, the list was shorter than expected. Was that all he could think of?

"Girls…" Ginny said slyly, her eyes glinting in a mischievous manner.

Frowning, Mortimer looked away from her, pulling his knees up to his chest, trying fight off the heat of the blush forming on his cheeks. "Ugh…" he groaned.

Suddenly, his lips twitched into a smirk. "Maybe, but what about you?" He began, "What do you think of Potter?"

"Wh-What?" She started, nerves battling inside of her. Was she that obvious? "What ar-are you on about?"

Grinning further, he was more than willing to answer her question. "Pfft – Please, your face practically says 'Marry me,'" he laughs. "If your faces' gotten any redder, you'd be a tomato.

"That's not funny!" Ginny swallowed hard. His teasing of her was embarrassing her immensely. She was just thankful that no one else was around to hear it. "I don't! Do not l-l-love him!"

Rolling his eyes, he jeers. "Oh! It's love now?"

"That's not what I meant!" She huffed angrily.

He almost felt bad for her as he knew how she felt about Potter, always turning into a nervous wreck whenever he entered the room. She could barely utter a word, you'd think she was mute.

It was sad really. Ginny was a small, naïve girl, believing the stories of the boy-who-lived And from the stories, everyone else had come to worship him.

Whatever it is she felt, or saw in the lanky boy, Mortimer can hope she grows out of it. "It's alright, Ginny. Your secret is safe with me." Surrendering his arms, he groans in pain when she elbows him in his lower abdomen.

"Serves you right." She closed her eyes, almost as if she was in pain. In truth, she was trying to recover from the immense fluster of her reddish face. "And. . . Thank you."

Sharing a few laughs, the two decide to leave the comfort of the dusty floor. It was getting late and the two would need to rise up early. Talking with Ginny was a good distraction for what's to come later. Tomorrow he will have to face the youngest Malfoy. To be honest, he felt guilty for nearly forgetting about him. It's only been a few weeks but somehow it's felt longer. No matter, Mortimer will find Draco, explain everything to him, and hopefully, he won't be as mad.

Saying goodnight to Ginny, he heads into his room.

At least the dream was no longer something he needed to worry about… for the rest of the night. One thing that did however was his appearance.

Finally alone, he heads towards the bathroom. The first thing he does is stand in front of the mirror. Observing his reflection one last time, giving his eyes a once-over.

Closing his them, he waited until he was positively sure he wasn't turning into some estranged half-like-creature. It was ridiculous and annoying, the timing couldn't have come at the worst moment.

Starting the forth-year, he couldn't let the other's see him this way. Not only would they see the sudden change in his appearance, but they'd see the sudden shift in those velvet eyes, one's that belonged to an evil man.

A slightest bit of movement from one of his hands, he doesn't see anything out of place. He stands there, breathing, watching as his chest rises and falls, contemplating his next move.

The part of him that was terrified was the semblance of Ginny's theory. That perhaps, the dark lord really was trying to communicate with him. Reaching and searching for help, the small lingering chance that his father could accomplish the feat, Mortimer couldn't help but clasp his hands over his ears, trying to block noises that weren't really there.

He laughs despite the remaining danger of the developing situation as it diminished the small amount of hope he had left. Gripping at the fact that even now, Mortimer wasn't safe from his own mind.

But as he laughed, he was aware that he was in over his head, unable to deal with it alone. As he thought more, Mortimer should probably tell Dumbledore. A problem like this, the headmaster would be interested. If not him, maybe Professor Snape can shine a light on the issue.

If Voldemort really was trying to talk to him, surely this will give Dumbledore the advantage to finally put a stop to him. What if he can't help? What if he's just as clueless?

Mortimer's throat tightened. No. He forced himself to not think of it, forcing he remain hopeful.

For without Dumbledore, who else will save them?

Potter?

Yeah right. . .